Chapter 5 — The Second Proposal

At that exact moment, Luc Trach spoke up, his voice cutting through the air with a chilling coldness.

“Mother, Lam Vi Vi was the one who spilled the soup.”

His voice wasn’t loud, yet it struck like a thunderclap in the middle of the quiet living room. The entire space fell into a deathly silence, so profound that one could have heard a pin drop. The expression on Vuong Le Binh’s face froze instantly, looking as though she had just been dealt a stinging slap. Lam Vi Vi’s face went pale in a heartbeat. Her eyes welled with tears, making her look utterly pathetic and fragile.

“Trach… I… I really didn't mean to…” she stammered, her voice trembling as if she were on the verge of a breakdown.

Perhaps Vuong Le Binh hadn't expected her own son to publicly expose Lam Vi Vi for my sake, especially in a way that caused her such embarrassment in front of everyone. The older woman was momentarily speechless, standing there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. Luc Trach didn’t spare them another glance. His entire focus was fixed on my burned hand. He squeezed out a bit of clear ointment and used a cotton swab to carefully apply it to the swollen, reddened skin on the back of my hand. A cooling sensation spread through me, dulling the stinging heat. His movements were clumsy, even a bit rough, but they carried a strange, intense seriousness. He kept his head lowered, his long lashes casting shadows beneath his eyes that masked whatever emotions lay hidden in his depths.

“There. Done.”

He finished by wrapping my hand in a simple gauze bandage, tying a crooked knot that looked almost comical. Then, ignoring the ugly expressions on the faces of Vuong Le Binh and Lam Vi Vi, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me directly upstairs.

“Stay away from her from now on,” he tossed the words over his shoulder once we entered the room.

I stared at his rigid back, my heart a chaotic mess of emotions. This was the first time he had publicly taken my side. It wasn't for the sake of the Luc family’s reputation, nor was it just because he wanted peace and quiet. It was… for me. The realization made my heart skip a beat. I looked down at the ugly knot on my hand, and for the first time, a strange new sensation flickered within me. It felt as though something was quietly shifting. The transparent wall that had always stood between us seemed to have developed a crack. I began to feel uncertain about our future. This man—my husband in name only—how was I supposed to treat him now?

After Luc Trach had fully recovered, he immediately returned to his duties at the Luc Group. He had been in a coma for two years, and the internal dynamics of the company had long been simmering with unrest; countless problems had piled up, waiting for him to resolve them. He spent almost the entire day in his study. There were endless video conferences and a mountain of documents to read. Consequently, the atmosphere in the villa became solemn and tense. Vuong Le Binh and Lam Vi Vi, likely cowed by the previous warning, remained much quieter. Although Lam Vi Vi still visited frequently, she no longer dared to play tricks on me in front of Luc Trach. As for me, I continued my life as a “high-end caregiver,” only the person I was looking after had transitioned from a patient into a workaholic.

One night, as I brought him a late-night snack, I happened to overhear him on a call in his study. His voice was laced with irritation and suppressed anger.

“If the proposal isn’t good enough, do it over! I don’t want to hear any excuses!”

“The other party's stance is clear. If they don't see a satisfactory plan, the negotiations are over.”

“What on earth does that old man want?”

After hanging up, he rubbed his forehead wearily and leaned back in his chair. I quietly placed a bowl of lotus seed soup on his desk. He opened his eyes and glanced at me.

“Not asleep yet?”

“I saw the light was still on in your study,” I replied calmly.

He picked up the bowl and took a sip, the tension in his face easing slightly.

“Company matters?” I ventured to ask.

Perhaps the pressure was too great and he needed an outlet, because this time he didn’t remain silent as usual. He gave a brief nod.

“An overseas acquisition. The CEO on the other side is an elderly Frenchman. He’s as stubborn as he is difficult to please. A real headache.”

“Does he have any specific requirements?”

Luc Trach looked at me, seemingly thinking there was no point in telling me, but he answered anyway.

“He’s a gourmet. His standards for food are strict to the point of being nitpicky. He’s rejected every hospitality plan my team has put forward.”

An elderly Frenchman… a gourmet… something stirred in my mind. I thought back to my late mentor, Luc Kien Quoc. During his lifetime, he loved researching culinary arts, especially fusion dishes that blended Eastern and Western techniques. Studying by his side, I had learned a great deal. I remembered a dish he used to make called “Southern Splendor.” It used Chinese ingredients and techniques but captured the refinement and soul of French cuisine. I recalled a French Michelin-starred chef visiting once; after tasting it, he couldn't stop praising it. Perhaps… it was worth a try.

The next day, Vuong Le Binh and Lam Vi Vi somehow caught wind of the situation and started making a fuss again. They went out of their way to hire a chef from a high-end Western restaurant to come to the house and prepare an incredibly lavish feast, claiming it was to help Luc Trach find inspiration. Lam Vi Vi stood in the kitchen giving orders like she was already the mistress of the house. I didn't join their performance. Instead, I stayed in my own small kitchen, working quietly.

Relying on my memory, I attempted to recreate the “Southern Splendor” my mentor had taught me. From selecting the ingredients to the knife work and the heat control, I was meticulous with every step, not daring to make a single mistake. This dish wasn't just a tribute to my mentor; it was also something I wanted to do for Luc Trach.

When Luc Trach’s team presented another exquisite culinary proposal to the Frenchman, Luc Trach, in a last-ditch effort, had my dish sent along as well. The food was placed in a classic container. Amidst the silver forks and luxury plating, it looked entirely out of place. No one pinned any hopes on it. But when the old Frenchman opened the box and saw the dish, his eyes immediately lit up. After taking a single bite, he instructed his assistant to clear away every other dish on the table. He kept only mine. He ate slowly, his expression solemn, as if he were savoring a work of art. After finishing the last bite, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and spoke to Luc Trach’s team leader.

“Tell your CEO, Mr. Luc, that I am very interested in this proposal. Tomorrow, I wish to meet the chef who prepared this meal.”

When the news reached the Luc household, everyone was stunned. The lavish Western feast that Vuong Le Binh and Lam Vi Vi had painstakingly prepared was returned untouched. Meanwhile, my unassuming fusion dish had unexpectedly opened the door to negotiations. When Luc Trach returned from the office, he walked straight up to me. The gaze he leveled at me was filled with an unprecedented sense of shock and scrutiny.

“That dish… you made it?”

I nodded. “I learned it from Uncle Luc.”

He fell silent. This time, I was no longer the Chu Tuyet who only knew how to serve tea and pour water in timid silence. I had used my own way to prove my value. It wasn't flashy, but it had hit the mark perfectly. The feeling was strange—calm, yet filled with a quiet sense of triumph.