Chapter 14 — The Call That Locked My In-Laws Out

Man Thoi Vien’s expression flickered, but Tham Man suddenly let out a sharp, brittle laugh. She stared at him, her voice low and icy.

So it turns out you were not just deceiving me. You even dared to touch your own daughter’s legal documents.

Man Thoi Vien whipped his head around, snapping, Shut your mouth!

Tham Man’s eyes reddened under his roar, but she hurriedly tapped her phone screen, playing a recorded clip. Phung Le Binh’s voice crackled through the speaker: First, get the papers sorted for the child. As long as she carries the Man name, we will find a way to secure the house and the car. Besides, she is just a woman; can she really fight our family to the bitter end?

Silence descended instantly. Man Thoi Vien’s face turned deathly pale. At that very moment, my mother’s call came through. Her voice was trembling, though she kept it hushed: Thanh Hoa, come home quickly. Your mother-in-law has brought people up to our floor.

I hung up and sprinted toward the elevator. My lawyer friend was simultaneously calling the police and demanding the building manager pull the elevator security footage. Tham Man stood frozen, her face drained of color; she seemed to finally realize that Phung Le Binh was never helping her—she was merely using her as a disposable tool. Man Thoi Vien tried to stop me. Thanh Hoa, listen to me first.

I halted and looked at him. Your mother is at my door. My daughter is inside. What exactly do you want me to listen to?

His lips moved, but no words came out. Suddenly, Tham Man interjected, I am coming up with you.

Man Thoi Vien turned sharply. Are you not causing enough chaos already?

Tham Man laughed coldly. The chaos belongs to the Man family, not to me.

The lawyer refused to let us share the elevator. She guided me and the building manager up first, while the security guards held Man Thoi Vien and Tham Man back for the next trip. The floor indicator ticked upward, each floor a strike against my nerves. My palms were slick with sweat, yet my mind was chillingly clear. I could not panic. If I faltered, they would claim I was suffering from postpartum emotional instability.

When the doors slid open, several people were already crowding the hallway. Phung Le Binh stood directly in front of my door, flanked by two middle-aged women and a man in grey overalls carrying a heavy toolbox. My mother stood inside, clutching my baby; the security chain was latched, leaving the door only slightly ajar. My mother was pale, but her arms remained iron-steady, shielding the child.

Seeing me, Phung Le Binh raised her voice immediately. You have finally returned. I only wanted to see my granddaughter, yet your mother treats me like a common thief.

I glared at the man in the grey overalls. Who is he?

The man’s eyes darted away. I am a locksmith.

I pressed him. Who called you?

Phung Le Binh cut in, I called him. This is my son’s home. He wants to retrieve his belongings, and since the locks have been changed, they must be opened.

My lawyer friend stepped forward. This property is under the sole name of Ha Thanh Hoa. Any attempt to force entry without the owner’s consent constitutes a criminal offense.

The man in grey turned pale, his demeanor shifting instantly. I did not know that. She told me her daughter-in-law was in her confinement period and had simply forgotten her keys.

I turned to Phung Le Binh. A moment ago, you said you were here to visit the baby, did you not?

Phung Le Binh’s face stiffened. One of the relatives standing nearby tried to mediate, saying, We are all one family. Let us not blow this out of proportion.

I ignored her, holding my phone out toward the locksmith. Please explain clearly who contacted you, who is paying you, and who instructed you to break into this specific apartment.

The locksmith waved his hands frantically. I will not open it. I am leaving right now.

As he turned to go, the building manager blocked his path. The police are on their way. You will need to stay and explain yourself.

Phung Le Binh panicked. Who are you trying to scare? Is it a crime for a grandmother to visit her grandchild?

Finally, my mother spoke, her voice steady: Visiting a child does not require bringing a locksmith.

The hallway fell into a deafening silence. The baby, startled by the noise, let out a small, whimpering cry. My heart twisted, and I reached out to take her, but Phung Le Binh suddenly lunged toward the gap in the door. Let me hold her!

My mother pulled back instantly, the security chain rattling. I stepped forward, blocking the threshold. If you take one more step, I will report you for the attempted abduction of an infant.

Phung Le Binh’s eyes widened. I am her grandmother!

I whispered coldly, Last night, you said you would simply snatch her away.

Phung Le Binh’s expression faltered. She instinctively glanced at the relatives behind her. When did I say that?

The lawyer pulled out a digital recorder. Phung Le Binh’s voice rang out through the hallway, sharp and clear: Tomorrow, go directly to the house and take the child.

As the recording finished, the relatives’ expressions shifted; the woman who had urged mediation took a half-step back. Phung Le Binh’s lips trembled. That was just talk fueled by anger.

I stared at her. Was bringing a locksmith to my door also just talk fueled by anger?

The elevator doors opened again. Man Thoi Vien rushed out, followed by Tham Man and two security guards. He surveyed the scene in the hallway, his expression darkening with terrifying intensity. Mother, what are you doing here?

Phung Le Binh looked at him as if he were her last lifeline. Thoi Vien, tell them! This is your house!

Man Thoi Vien looked at me, his eyes unreadable.