Chapter 9 — The Call That Locked My In-Laws Out

I demanded that Manh Thoi Vien return the vehicle registration documents, provide a detailed breakdown of all expenses charged to the supplementary credit card, cease his unauthorized entries into the residence registered in my name, and cover the repair costs for the damages sustained by the car. Once he acknowledged these terms, I instructed him to send both the digital and physical copies of the required paperwork. Past eight o'clock that evening, Manh Thoi Vien arrived again. This time, he did not ring the doorbell. He stood outside the door and attempted to use the old passcode to unlock the electronic lock. The device beeped, signaling an error three times in a row. On the screen, I watched his expression darken. I initiated a video call.

Do not bother trying anymore; the code has been changed.

Manh Thoi Vien stared intently at the camera lens.

Ha Thanh Hoa, you are truly heartless.

I replied.

Not as heartless as using my car as collateral for your family’s debts.

He gritted his teeth.

The wedding was ruined because of you. What else do you want?

It was not ruined by me. You all pretended to be wealthy when you were broke, flaunting cars that were never yours to begin with. When your fraudulent schemes fell through, you choose to blame the one who exposed the truth?

His chest heaved with suppressed rage.

The Lam family is demanding that Thoi An pay over one hundred thousand for the losses incurred by the wedding banquet.

That is his problem to deal with.

I am his brother.

Then you should pay it for him. But do not expect me to fund your burdens ever again.

Manh Thoi Vien looked down at his phone, his posture stiff, as if he were trying to contain a volcanic eruption of temper.

Let me access the supplementary card just this once, so I can settle this matter.

I looked at him coldly.

Manh Thoi Vien, are you incapable of understanding simple speech?

He looked up at me.

What about Tham Man? Then?

I asked the question suddenly. The person outside the door fell silent. I did not give him time to gather his thoughts.

She sent me a message.

As soon as those words left my lips, the look on Manh Thoi Vien’s face underwent an immediate transformation. He quickly demanded, What did she send you?

I watched the desperate intensity in his eyes. In that moment, I knew for certain: Tham Man was in possession of something that he was terrified for me to see.

I did not answer Manh Thoi Vien. I simply ended the video call. There was silence outside for several seconds, followed by the sound of him kicking the door violently. The baby, startled by the noise, began to cry in the bedroom. My mother picked up the child and walked out, her face deathly pale with anger. I immediately called building security.

There is someone kicking my door. Please send guards up here immediately.

Manh Thoi Vien heard me from the other side, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl.

Ha Thanh Hoa, do not push me to the brink of insanity.

I spoke through the door.

I have already recorded that statement.

He stopped kicking. By the time the security guards arrived, he had retreated to the elevator lobby. He claimed to the guards that he was the husband of the homeowner. I presented the property deed and the lawyer’s formal notice.

Without my explicit consent, he is not permitted to enter this home.

The guards reviewed the documents, and their demeanor shifted immediately to one of professional deference. Sir, you need to leave.

Manh Thoi Vien remained standing where he was, his gaze fixed on my face past the shoulders of the guards. You will regret this.

I closed the door. My mother took the baby back to the room. She did not urge me to endure his presence, nor did she ask if I was afraid. She simply placed a bowl of warm porridge in front of me. Eat something first.

I ate half the bowl, finally feeling some warmth return to my stomach. The phone on the table lit up. A strange number had sent a message: If you want to know why he did not come home that night, come to the Park Hyatt cafe at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon. I stared at the text for a few seconds. This time, I did not just take a screenshot and put the phone away. I forwarded the number to my lawyer friend and asked if it was safe to attend. She replied: You can go, but do not go alone. I said: Come with me. She answered: Agreed.

The next morning, Manh Thoi Vien did not appear. However, Phung Le Binh arrived at the apartment complex gate with two relatives in tow. The management office called me first, reporting that they were causing a scene demanding entry. I opened the management’s customer service portal in the resident group chat and submitted a formal request to restrict access. Aside from myself and my mother, no one was to be granted entry under the pretense of being a family member. Phung Le Binh created a disturbance at the gate for over ten minutes before the security guards finally managed to turn them away. Once she returned home, she posted a long complaint in the extended family group chat, claiming that Ha Thanh Hoa was blocking the husband’s family from visiting during her postpartum recovery, refusing even to let the grandmother see her grandchild.

People in the group quickly chimed in with advice: A family should not make things so ugly. A woman is temperamental after giving birth; the man should just yield a little and it will pass. I had originally left the group, but Manh Thoi Vien had added me back, likely wanting me to witness their condemnation. I offered no explanations. I simply sent three images. The first was the supplementary card statement showing an eighty-thousand charge on the day the child was born. The second was the log of three phone calls and the subsequent disconnected calls on the day I was discharged from the hospital. The third was the GPS location showing the car sitting at a rental agency.

The group went silent immediately. A few minutes later, a cousin from the Manh side sent a single question mark. I sent one final message: Please stop circulating false information. All future matters will be handled by my lawyer. I left the group immediately after sending the message. My mother watched me, then said quietly, That is the right thing to do.

I used to be so afraid of what others might say, I admitted.

Now, I only fear that my child will suffer any injustice.

At two-thirty in the afternoon, my lawyer friend drove over to pick me up. My mother stayed home to care for the baby. Before I stepped out the door, she tucked a small voice recorder into my pocket. Your father used to use this when he handled his business, she whispered.