Chapter 5 — The Call That Locked My In-Laws Out

I only wanted to help Thoi An organize his wedding properly, I said.

Using my money, my car, and my time—at a point when I had just given birth to our child. I paused for a moment to steady my breathing. Thoi Vien, the one you are helping is your younger brother, but the ones suffering are me and your daughter.

Phuong Le Binh suddenly began to wipe away her tears. Why did I ever end up with a daughter-in-law as ungrateful as you? There is a joyous occasion in this family, and you are determined to turn it into a living nightmare.

I did not listen to another word. I called the building management office. Please, send security up immediately. There is a disturbance in front of my home.

Thoi Vien’s expression turned deathly cold. Ha Thanh Hoa, are you calling security to kick me out?

This is my residence, I replied.

Do not forget that the child is also my daughter, he said, his voice laced with a predatory threat. I lifted my gaze to meet his. Did you only just remember that she is your daughter?

He was left speechless by my retort. From the bedroom came the soft, rhythmic crying of the baby. My mother walked out holding the infant, her face as cold as ice. She did not scold Phuong Le Binh, nor did she lash out at Thoi Vien. She simply spoke one sentence. If any of you says one more word, I will call the police immediately.

Upon seeing my mother, the air left Phuong Le Binh, and her momentum faltered. In-law, you have come at just the right time. Please, talk some sense into Thanh Hoa. Husband and wife should not keep such strict accounts of one another.

My mother, cradling her granddaughter, walked toward the door. My daughter gave birth in the hospital while your son drank at a hotel celebration. My daughter was discharged from the hospital, and your son told her to take a taxi home. If your family does not know how to live with decency, do not expect my daughter to suffer in silence.

No one spoke outside the door. Security arrived quickly. Thoi Vien, unwilling to lose face in front of outsiders, had no choice but to lead them downstairs. Before leaving, he looked at me through the gap in the door. Thanh Hoa, take two days to calm yourself down.

Return the car tonight, I said. He did not answer. After the door closed, the house finally fell into silence. My mother placed the baby back in her crib and sat by the bed for a long time, motionless. I called a friend of mine who is a lawyer. After listening to the situation, she gave me simple advice. Send a formal written notice demanding the return of the car and the registration documents. If they continue to use it, call the police immediately and document the damages.

I followed her instructions. Less than twenty minutes after the notice was sent, Thoi An sent me a voice message. I did not open it. He sent a text instead: Sister-in-law, I really cannot return the car right now. After we finish picking up the bride tomorrow morning, I promise I will return it to you. I replied: Send me the parking location within twenty minutes. If you do not, I am calling the police. He went silent. I opened the vehicle's GPS. The car had left the wedding venue, but it was not heading home. It was driving straight toward the western outskirts of the city. Finally, it stopped in front of a car rental agency. I stared at the location, my heart turning to ice. My mother asked, What is happening?

I handed her my phone. She looked at it and immediately grabbed her coat. Let’s go.

What about the baby? I asked. She looked at the crib. I will stay here; you go.

By the time I took a taxi to the rental agency, it was nearly ten o'clock. Several wedding cars were parked outside, their red decorative ribbons still attached. My Porsche was parked at the very end. The ribbon on the hood was askew, and there was a fresh scratch along the side of the door. Thoi An was standing by the car, arguing with a man in a black coat. My sister-in-law is just being difficult; once we are done with it tomorrow, there will be no problems at all.

The man in the black coat frowned. Unless the owner signs in person, this vehicle cannot be used as collateral.

I stepped forward. The owner is here.

Thoi An turned around abruptly. His expression soured instantly, as if he had been slapped across the face. I ignored him, pulling out my identification and the vehicle registration papers. This is my car. Any attempt to use this vehicle as collateral or a guarantee of any kind will not be recognized by me.

The man in the black coat immediately changed his attitude. Miss Ha, in that case, please take your car and leave.

Thoi An rushed to block me. Sister-in-law, don't do this! If you do, my life is over tomorrow!

I looked at him coldly. Whether your life is over or not is of no concern to me.

I opened the car door. The interior reeked of cigarette smoke. The child safety seat I had carefully installed had been ripped out and tossed onto the floor mats in the back. Beside it lay a hotel receipt. The date on the receipt was the night before my daughter was born. The last four digits of the payment card were 6912. Listed under the guests, besides Thoi Vien, was the name of another woman: Tham Man.

I bowed my head, staring at that receipt, my fingers slowly tightening into a fist. The night before my child was born. I had been in so much pain that I could not even sit upright at home, and Thoi Vien had told me the company had an emergency meeting. I had believed him then. Because I was on the verge of labor, I had no strength left to doubt, and in my heart, I had not wanted to doubt. But now, in black and white, his name was clearly written. And the other name was Tham Man. Seeing where my eyes were fixed, Thoi An’s panic deepened. He reached out, trying to snatch the paper from my hand.