Chapter 3 — The Fateful Oath

I snapped back, my voice sharp enough to draw blood, leaving Thuong Vi rooted to the spot. The submissive, gentle mask I usually wore had vanished without a trace. Perhaps in this moment, he was silently congratulating himself for finding a "side piece" who was far more obedient and soft than I was. But who cared? My mother-in-law shot up from her chair with a speed that defied her age, screeching, "What do you mean by that? My son works himself to the bone all day, and now he’s supposed to cook and wait on you? Who do you think you are?!" I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Oh, so he actually goes to work? Then tell me, how much of that paycheck does he actually bring home?" Everyone in that room knew the answer—not a single cent. I had three hundred million in a fixed deposit; the annual interest alone was over four million, meaning that every single day I spent lounging around, more than ten thousand flowed into my account. I couldn't care less where Thuong Vi’s measly six-thousand-dollar salary went. The entire Thuong family ate my food, lived in a villa registered in my name, and used the premium ingredients I bought for their meals. And yet, they had the nerve to tell me his job was "important"?

"He... he works so hard, and for whom?!" the old woman wailed, though her voice lost a significant amount of its bravado. I showed no mercy. "If he can’t cook, then what about you? What about Thuong Tam? Why isn’t anyone else in the kitchen?" "If a mother-in-law has to cook her own meals, then what’s the point of having a daughter-in-law?!" she countered, her eyes bulging. I curled my lip in a mocking sneer. "Oh, I see. So marrying me was just a way to secure a free maid?"

Before the words fully left my mouth, my sister-in-law, Thuong Tam, planted her hands on her hips and joined the fray. "Even if you weren't married to do housework, you should at least produce an heir for the Thuong family! You've been married for two years and your belly hasn't shown a single sign of life! I think you're nothing but a hen that can't lay eggs!" I scoffed, hitting back without hesitation. "Fine, so I'm a hen that can't lay eggs. That’s still better than a hen that lays duck eggs!" It was no secret—the child she gave birth to belonged to another man, and her ex-husband had divorced her on the spot, throwing mother and child out into the street without a second thought. And she had the audacity to stand there and lecture me?

"You... you! To Thanh, you bitch! I’m going to tear you apart today!" Thuong Tam completely lost control as I exposed her deepest shame. She lunged forward, hand raised to slap me, but she wasn't fast enough. I swung my arm and pivoted—SMACK!—a thunderous slap landed square on her face, leaving a vivid mark. In that moment, I genuinely regretted not mastering the "Invincible Rapid-Fire Slap" technique I'd seen in movies. Seeing the rest of the Thuong family bristling and preparing to swarm me, I knew I couldn't win a three-on-one fight. With a swift, snake-like move, I ducked past them, retreated to my bedroom, and slammed the door shut, turning the lock. Then, I threw open the window—and fled my own home.

Behind me, the sound of rhythmic pounding on the door echoed, accompanied by a stream of filth and curses that could make one's ears bleed. By the time I reached the gate of the villa complex, I was stumbling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I saw two familiar security guards on duty. "Oh, sister-in-law, why are you running so frantically?" I didn't bother answering; I just kept my head down and sprinted toward the main road. Some of these guards were from the same village as Thuong Vi. I used to think having "acquaintances" at the gate was reassuring; now, it just sent a chill down my spine. I flagged down a taxi and barked at the driver as soon as I climbed in, "To the police station, please!" At that moment, the police were the only ones I trusted. But as the engine roared to life, I was seized by a violent fit of coughing. With a sickening "ugh," I vomited a mouthful of blood. The driver’s eyes widened in horror. "Ma'am, I think you should go to the hospital instead!" "...Fine. The hospital!"

After a thorough examination, the doctor informed me that my body contained traces of a chronic poison that had been accumulating for months. It was likely because I had gone for an early morning jog for the first time today—and the frantic adrenaline of my escape—that my blood circulation had been thrown into a frenzy, revealing the abnormal symptoms. If I had continued to ingest it for a few more months, even a miracle wouldn't have saved me. Now I understood why I’d been feeling so short of breath lately, plagued by constant coughing and exhaustion after the slightest movement. I was being poisoned.

"You are my only family," I had told Thuong Vi on our wedding day. He had held me close, his eyes tender and his voice firm. "I will love you with all my heart. Let us take care of each other for the rest of our lives." When he said those words back then, my jade pendant hadn't vibrated, proving he had once loved me truly. Today, I asked him again: "Do you still love me?" Thuong Vi replied, "I don't." The jade pendant vibrated: "He's lying." There was a time when I felt that wearing the jade while living with him was an insult to our relationship, so I hadn't worn it for over a year. But as Thuong Vi's behavior became increasingly intolerable, I decided to put it back on—to see exactly what game he was playing. I never expected to be the main character in such a melodramatic tragedy. The Thuong family must have realized I had no living relatives left and hatched a wicked plan to inherit everything I owned.

The most urgent task was to detoxify my body. I immediately froze all the secondary and credit cards under my name. Opening my phone app, I activated the home surveillance system—cameras I had installed in every corner. It was almost funny; I had originally installed them to catch my nephew, a brat who would break things in the villa and then lie through his teeth while the rest of the in-laws accused me of slandering him. Out of sheer frustration, I had wired the whole house. I never imagined it would be used to monitor this nest of vipers. As soon as the feed flickered to life, my blood boiled. A woman with a bulging belly was lounging in my villa as if she owned the place. I knew her all too well—Co Minh Nguyet, my college roommate. A "best friend" who had spent years mooching off me, treating me like a walking ATM. And now, it seemed, she was "mooching" off my husband, too.