Chapter 7 — The Divorce ATM

This is our prenuptial agreement.

His tone shifted. The earlier flicker of guilt had vanished, replaced by a cold, steel-hardened edge.

Niem Co has already signed it.

Phuong Vien picked it up for a closer look. I leaned in, too. My name was indeed on the document. The signature was a perfect imitation of my own. The text read: Both parties agree that any residential property acquired after the marriage belongs solely to the husband. In the event of a divorce, the wife voluntarily waives all claims to said property.

The date of signing: May 12, three years ago. The exact day we had registered our marriage. His aunt glanced at the paper, a look of profound relief washing over her face.

So, it is settled, then.

His cousin leaned in to peer at it. My mother-in-law’s eyes brightened. See? She signed it herself!

In a heartbeat, the situation had turned against me. His sister studied the agreement, her brow furrowing slightly. I looked at Phuong Vien. She remained entirely composed. She picked up the document and flipped to the signature page.

May 12.

Correct, Zhou Dien said.

On what day did you two register your marriage?

May 12. A Tuesday.

Phuong Vien nodded. May 12, a Tuesday. She checked the calendar on her phone. That is incorrect. She turned the screen toward the room. Three years ago, May 12 fell on a Saturday.

A heavy silence descended upon the living room.

The Civil Affairs Bureau does not process marriage registrations on Saturdays. It was impossible for you to have registered on that day.

Phuong Vien looked directly at Zhou Dien. Your actual registration date was May 14. A Monday. I have checked the records.

Zhou Dien’s face went deathly pale.

This agreement is dated May 12, a day when the government offices were closed. The document is a forgery.

Phuong Vien set the papers back down on the table. If you have notarized records, I can verify them. She looked at him again. Do you have notarized records?

Zhou Dien remained silent.

You do not. Because this agreement is a fabrication.

Phuong Vien’s voice was not loud, yet it resonated clearly throughout the room. The gleam of triumph in my mother-in-law’s eyes flickered out. His aunt bowed her head, and his cousin leaned back, deflated. His sister stared at him.

Dien, you even resorted to forging a legal agreement?

Zhou Dien opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. Phuong Vien slipped the document back into her briefcase. Forging legal documents is a serious offense. If introduced in litigation, the court can impose fines or warnings; in severe cases, it leads to criminal prosecution for obstructing the judicial process. She fixed her gaze on him. Are you certain you want to move forward with this?

Zhou Dien dropped his head and said nothing more. I stood up and looked at him.

You once said, ‘What does it matter whose name is on the deed?’

He remained silent.

You said, ‘Let’s just save a little money.’

He said nothing.

You said, ‘You are the best choice I have ever made.’

Still, he did not speak.

Did you say the exact same words to Tham Dao as well?

He stayed silent. I turned to my mother-in-law. Mother. It was the last time I would ever call her by that name. You didn't urge me to come home early to cook because you were worried about the food getting cold. You were afraid I would catch you in the act.

Her face turned deathly white.

You told me I was just a temporary placeholder, I continued. Very well. The transition period is over.

I looked at each of them in turn. As of today, the ATM is closing its account.

His aunt rose, clutching her purse. She didn't say a word as she walked out. His cousin followed. His sister glanced at Zhou Dien, sighed, and said, Deal with this yourself. I cannot help you, before leaving as well. Only four of us remained in the living room: Zhou Dien, my mother-in-law, myself, and Phuong Vien. My mother-in-law’s lips were trembling, and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but Phuong Vien beat her to it.

There is one more matter, she said, turning to Zhou Dien. This morning, you went to the real estate center, attempting to transfer the deed of the Thuy Dinh Uyen property to Tham Dao.

He looked up, startled.

The transfer failed. The asset freeze order arrived before you did. But your actions have been formally recorded. In divorce proceedings, if one party maliciously attempts to transfer assets, the court will award them a smaller portion, or potentially nothing at all.

She slid a thick folder across the table. A divorce petition. We are demanding the recovery of two hundred eighty-one thousand, four hundred in marital assets that you attempted to divert, plus interest.

She pushed another folder forward. A demand for the division of all real estate. Our primary residence will be divided based on capital contribution. The property at Thuy Dinh Uyen, purchased during our marriage, is a joint asset and will also be divided.

She pushed a third folder forward. Evidence regarding the forgery of the prenuptial agreement. If you attempt to use it in court, we will formally file for penalties regarding your obstruction of justice.

The three folders lay in a neat, menacing row on the coffee table. Phuong Vien looked at me, and I nodded.

The net is cast.

Zhou Dien did not sign the divorce papers. It was not because he held any advantage; he simply could not accept the reality of the situation. He sat in the living room all night long. The next morning, he knocked on my bedroom door.

Niem Co?

Yes.

Let’s talk.

There is nothing to say.

Give me your conditions.

The conditions are all in those three folders.

I... I can pay you back.

Two hundred eighty thousand. Plus interest.

Fine... I will pay it back slowly.

Four hundred fifty thousand for the down payment. Divided by our respective contributions.

Fine.

And the property at Thuy Dinh Uyen. It is a marital asset. We split it fifty-fifty.

He hesitated. But that house is...

Is what? Bought for your ex-girlfriend?

He stopped talking.