Chapter 17 — The Call That Locked My In-Laws Out

The photograph had been taken in our former master bedroom. Resting atop the nightstand was a photo album—a relic I had always kept buried deep within the bottom drawer of the bed frame. It held our wedding photos, portraits from my pregnancy, and snapshots of me with my parents. Beneath the picture, he had left a message: "Did you really think changing the locks would keep me out?"

My blood ran cold. I bolted into the bedroom. The bed drawer had been pried open. The album was gone. My mother stood at the bedroom door, clutching my child, her voice trembling as she asked, "When did he get in?"

I did not answer. I pulled up the cloud storage logs for the home security system. There was a twelve-minute void in the footage from the afternoon, right after I had left for the bank. It was not a network failure; someone had used the administrator credentials to disable the cameras. Only I and Manh Thoi Vien possessed that code. No, there was one other person—a friend of his who had helped with the installation. I immediately sent a screenshot of the logs to my attorney friend. Her reply was succinct: "Call the police immediately. Do not touch anything at the scene."

Just then, the doorbell chimed. The screen lit up to show Manh Thoi Vien standing outside, the album gripped in his hand. His face was devoid of remorse, wearing only the chilling desperation of a man backed into a corner.

"Thanh Hoa," he said, "let us have one final talk. If you refuse to speak with me, I will make sure everything your parents left behind disappears, piece by piece."

I did not open the door. I placed my phone on the floor by the entryway, the recording function already engaged. Outside, he held the album up to the camera lens. "Your father loved you so dearly. If he knew you had turned out like this, he would likely regret ever giving you this house."

My mother, still holding the baby, felt her eyes well with tears. But I merely let out a hollow laugh. "Manh Thoi Vien, you have truly sunk low enough to threaten me with the memory of the dead."

His expression darkened. "I only want you to be calm."

"Calm enough to withdraw the legal notice? Calm enough to open a secondary credit card for you? Calm enough to sign over half the house to you?"

A heavy silence fell in the hallway. He did not deny it. I continued, "You broke into my home this afternoon. You disabled the cameras, pried open my furniture, and stole that album. Now, you are using it to extort me."

He stared intensely into the camera. "Are we not husband and wife? Is taking a few personal items considered theft?"

"You are no longer just taking items," I countered. "You are trespassing, committing destruction of property, and engaging in criminal intimidation."

He offered a cold, mirthless smile. "Ha Thanh Hoa, do not always hide behind the law. Making a scene will not be good for the child."

The baby in my mother's arms stirred. She hurriedly carried him into the bedroom. I stared at the man on the screen. I had once believed he was merely biased toward his own family, then later, that he was simply greedy. Only now did I see his character for what it truly was: fundamentally, irrevocably malicious. He knew exactly what I cherished, and he struck at it every time.

I lowered my voice. "Manh Thoi Vien, put the album down and leave. I am waiting for the police."

His face paled. "You called the police?"

"You are standing outside my door threatening me. Why would I not call the police?"

He glanced behind him. The floor indicator on the elevator at the end of the hall was moving upward. Manh Thoi Vien finally panicked. He threw the album onto the floor. "Do you really think I am afraid of them?"

I said nothing. The elevator doors opened, and two officers stepped out, accompanied by the building manager. Manh Thoi Vien’s demeanor shifted instantly. "Officers, this is a private family matter. I came to retrieve my own property from my house; she refused to let me in and is now framing me."

The officers looked to me. I produced the property deed, the records of the lock change, and the timestamps showing the camera blackout. "I did not authorize his entry. The cameras were disabled using an administrator account. The furniture was forced open. He has been outside threatening me, and the recording is right here."

After hearing the audio, the officers’ expressions grew stern. Manh Thoi Vien started to stammer. "That is my father-in-law's album. I wasn't going to sell it."

I knelt and retrieved the album through the gap in the door. The cover was gashed. Inside, the old photo of my father holding me had been creased so sharply the paper had turned white. My fingers trembled, but I forced myself to remain steady.

"How did you gain entry?" I asked.

Manh Thoi Vien stayed silent. The building manager spoke up softly, "Ms. Ha, we have checked the system logs. This afternoon, someone used the backup administrator account from the installation company to disable the cameras. The login originated from outside the complex."

I immediately thought of his friend who had assisted with the installation. My lawyer arrived just then and addressed the police directly: "We request a full extraction of the system logs to investigate the unauthorized access. Furthermore, there are missing documents from the residence."

The police ordered Manh Thoi Vien to open the bag he was carrying. He refused. "On what grounds?"

The officer’s tone turned sharp. "You are currently suspected of illegal trespassing and intimidation. You will cooperate."

Manh Thoi Vien’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the bag. Finally, he surrendered it. A brown kraft paper envelope fell out. The moment I saw it, I recognized it immediately.