Chapter 3 — The Divorce ATM

Last night, I called the property management office. For unit 1802 in building seven, the registered owner is Zhou Yan. I feigned a complaint about a water leak, and the management staff checked their system and provided me with the details.

Phuong Vien flipped through the documents on the table.

So, there are two properties. Regarding the home you two share, you paid four hundred and fifty thousand for the deposit. What about the deposit for the unit at Thuy Dinh Garden?

I do not know.

I will look into it.

Phuong Vien made a few phone calls. Half an hour later, she had the results. Thuy Dinh Garden, unit 1802. The contract was signed online last June. The total price was one million two hundred thousand. The deposit was three hundred and sixty thousand. The monthly mortgage payment is four thousand three hundred.

Three hundred and sixty thousand for the deposit, Phuong Vien noted, looking at me. His salary card shows a monthly income of twelve thousand, with five thousand transferred out consistently. Where did he find three hundred and sixty thousand?

I remained silent.

Out of your four hundred and fifty thousand deposit, how much of that flowed into this second property?

I still said nothing. I could not calculate it precisely, but there was one thing I knew for certain. Two hundred and eighty thousand was transferred to Tham Dao. Of the four hundred and fifty thousand for our deposit, he had only contributed two hundred and thirty thousand. I had advanced one hundred and twenty thousand for renovations that were never repaid. Every month, I cover more than three thousand of his share of the mortgage. When all these sums are added together... he used my money to buy a house for Tham Dao. Phuong Vien watched me closely.

What do you want to do?

Divorce. Demand back the two hundred and eighty thousand. Reclaim my own deposit money. Divide the property at Thuy Dinh Garden.

Anything else?

I want him to arrive at the airport only to discover there is no place for him.

Phuong Vien smiled.

When are you requesting the refund?

Tonight. The flight is tomorrow at ten in the morning.

And after the refund is processed?

I will not tell him.

Phuong Vien nodded.

I will prepare the documents for asset preservation today.

She gestured toward the screenshots.

In the group chat, your mother-in-law's comment about it being excessive can be used. And the way he referred to you as a cash machine to Tham Dao...

Can we use that?

When the court rules on dividing marital assets and awarding damages, these chat logs will serve to prove his subjective malice. Once the judge sees the phrase cash machine, it will influence their judgment.

I nodded.

There is one more thing, Phuong Vien continued. The risk of forgery you mentioned...

What kind of forgery?

If your husband realizes you intend to divorce, he may very well fabricate documents. Things like prenuptial agreements, loan notes, or debt certificates.

Would he go that far?

It is better to be prepared. I will obtain your marriage registration details to establish a timeline. If he produces any supposed agreements, I can verify their authenticity immediately.

Phuong Vien’s work was always meticulous. This was her eighth year as a lawyer.

Now, go home. Act as though everything is normal.

Act normal. I returned home. Zhou Yan had already finished packing. A large suitcase sat by the door. Two sets of personal toiletries were still inside: one blue, one pink. The sticky note on the pink set had been torn off. He knew he had to wipe away the traces, but he did not know that I had already taken pictures.

Did you not pack your suitcase? he asked.

I will pack it tomorrow morning.

Fine, just do not forget...

My passport, I finished for him. I know.

He smiled and walked over to hug me.

Just the two of us. First class. Paris.

I leaned against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent on him. It smelled the same as any other day. It was the same scent he wore when he returned from the third floor after hearing the heartbeat of our child. It was the same scent he wore when he brought me porridge and laughed, telling me to drink up. His kindness and his cruelty shared the same detergent.

Yes, I said. Just the two of us.

Eleven o'clock at night. He was asleep. I picked up his phone. Two first-class tickets. Beijing to Paris. Passengers: Zhou Yan, Tham Dao. I clicked the button to request a refund. The system prompted a confirmation box.

A cancellation fee of five percent applies.

The tickets cost seventy-six thousand. The fee was three thousand eight hundred. Seventy-two thousand two hundred would be refunded. I pressed confirm. The page refreshed. The refund request was submitted. His phone also received a notification message from the airline. He turned over in his sleep but did not wake up. I reached out and flipped his phone face down. The screen remained hidden against the surface. He slept soundly. Tomorrow, he would drag his suitcase out of the house. He would go to the airport. He would stand in the departures hall waiting for Tham Dao. Then, they would go to the check-in counter together. The agent would verify their information and say...

Sir, your ticket has been refunded.

I sent a text to Phuong Vien.

It is done. He will be at the airport tomorrow morning. Could you arrange for someone to record the scene?

Phuong Vien replied immediately: My colleague, Trieu Nguyet, happens to be flying to Shanghai tomorrow and will be in the international departures area at terminal three. I will tell her to keep an eye out.

Good.

The asset preservation documents will be filed tomorrow morning.

Understood.

I put the phone down and stared at the ceiling, then at his suitcase. That pink toiletry set. He thought she would still be able to use it. He did not know that tomorrow, that pink set would not even get the chance to be unwrapped.

The next day. Seven o'clock. Zhou Yan's alarm went off. He got up, washed his face, and changed his clothes.