Chapter 11 — The Secret Pages of Room Seven

For a week after the first break into Room Number Seven, Bách Nguyên tried everything to arrange another opportunity to return, while Nhã Vân devoted her efforts to finding out more information about Mạc Vĩnh Điền's death through indirect channels - thanks to Ngọc Diễm quietly collecting official forensic records, comparing them with what the family lawyer had provided.

Ngọc Diễm sent her, through an encrypted communication channel that the two had previously agreed upon, a copy of Mạc Vĩnh Điền's death certificate. Nhã Vân read each line carefully, and one detail stunned her: the place where the death certificate was issued was not the central general hospital where the ambulance took him that night according to her mother, but a small private clinic in the suburbs, a completely unfamiliar name that she had never heard mentioned in any of the family's medical records.

She immediately texted Ngọc Diễm, asking to learn more about that clinic. The answer that came two days later made her even more confused: although that private clinic had a valid operating license, it was very small in scale, mainly examined regular outpatients, and did not have enough emergency resuscitation equipment to handle a case of serious brain injury as described in the initial report. A patient in such a critical condition should have been immediately transferred to a large hospital with full neurosurgical facilities, but could not have been confirmed dead in such a small clinic lacking equipment.

When recounting this discovery to Bách Nguyên, they both sat silently in the dark garden, trying to piece together the entire chain of events.

"If he was really that critical, no one would have taken him to such a small clinic that lacked equipment, unless it was on purpose," Bách Nguyên said, his voice was slow as if he was rearranging the pieces in his head. "Unless the person who took him there knew in advance that the clinic wouldn't be able to save him, or worse, they never intended to save him there in the truest sense."

"What do you mean, doctor?"

"I think that clinic was just a place to confirm death on paper, and the real treatment — if any — was done somewhere else, much more private, before he was brought there just to complete the legal process." Nhã Vân felt cold all over her body. That hypothesis, although it sounded bold, completely explained all the contradictory details that she had wondered about - the unusual haste in handling the case, the fact that the body was quickly cremated just two days after death under the pretext of "according to a previously made will", leaving no one, including the investigation agency, with the opportunity to conduct a thorough autopsy to independently verify the cause of death.

"If that's true," she said, her voice trembling with both anger and fear, "then the ashes in the family tomb, where my mother used to burn incense every week, might not be his."

Bách Nguyên did not answer immediately, just looked at her with eyes full of sympathy for the emotional burden she was bearing. "We need to find more specific evidence, we can't just rely on inferences. If possible, I want to go back to Room Seven again, find out if there are any records directly related to his transfer somewhere after the night of the incident."

The opportunity came earlier than expected. Three days later, on a weekend evening when most administrative staff were off and Tưởng Nhã Kỳ returned to her hometown to visit her family on a regular leave schedule that Bách Nguyên accidentally learned about through the duty roster, he decided to take action. This time, he was more prepared, bringing a small flashlight and more time to thoroughly search every box of files in Room Seven.

Nhã Vân, according to a previous agreement, acted as a remote guard, pretending to walk in the hallway near the stairs leading to the basement, ready to signal with a short text message if she detected anyone appearing unusual.

Inside Room Number Seven, Bách Nguyên carefully searched each iron shelf, finally finding a box of records marked with a different symbol than the rest — not the usual patient code, but a string of abbreviated letters "M.V.D — special records". His heart pounded when he opened the box, inside was a thin folder of documents detailing a "secret emergency transfer" on the night of the incident, with the destination not being a private suburban clinic as shown on the public death certificate, but a completely different address - a private villa in the northern suburbs of the city, noted as an "internal, non-public treatment facility".

Attached were several pages of handwritten medical notes, describing the patient's condition with a serious head injury but had passed the critical stage after emergency surgery, and the signature of a doctor Bách Nguyên had never heard of in An Tâm's official team.

He took a photo of all those document pages, his hands shaking with excitement and shock at the truth that was gradually appearing before his eyes. Just as he was about to close the file box, the phone in his pocket vibrated - a text message from Nhã Vân, just one word: "Withdraw".

He quickly rearranged everything to its original position, locked the door carefully, and left the basement through the side passage that he had memorized after many observations. As soon as he reached the ground floor, a group of security guards passed through the hallway, seemingly conducting an unusual patrol outside of regular hours. He hid in a hidden corner, his heart pounding, waiting until the security group was gone before daring to breathe a sigh of relief.

That evening, when they met Nhã Vân again, they both reviewed the photos they had just taken in heavy silence. The villa address in the northern suburbs, the note "internal treatment facility, not public", all pointed to a truth that neither of them dared to say out loud right away.

"He's alive," Nhã Vân finally spoke, her voice cold as ice. "Mạc Vĩnh Điền never died. The entire case, the death, the funeral, it was all just a stage staged to frame Diệu Kỳ for murder and help him escape from something."

"I believe so." Bách Nguyên nodded, his voice also lowered heavily. "And if that's true, he's still out there somewhere, probably still controlling this entire network from the shadows, through Chu Bảo Hạnh and others."

Nhã Vân clenched her hands, feeling anger rising stronger than ever. Her sister is suffering from murder charges, being detained and injected with drugs every day, just to cover for a man who faked his death to avoid responsibility for his own huge financial crimes. This was no longer just a simple financial scheme, but the most cruel betrayal she had ever witnessed in her life — a stepfather willing to sacrifice his wife's daughter's life and future just to preserve his own safety.

"We have to find out the exact address of that mansion," she said, her voice more determined than ever. "And we must find a way to get this evidence to the right people, before they find out we know too much." Bách Nguyên nodded, but his eyes still contained a deep worry. "The closer we get to the truth, the greater the danger. From now on, we must be even more careful, Miss Lam. Because if they discover that someone has touched this biggest secret, I'm afraid they will no longer keep any reservations."

That night, returning to her room, Nhã Vân could not sleep. She lay looking up at the ceiling, imagining every moment she had stood in front of Mạc Vĩnh Điền's altar, lighting incense to say goodbye to a person she thought was at peace, when in fact he could be sitting somewhere, safe, healthy, continuing to control his chess pieces from the darkness. She thought of her mother, the woman who cried her eyes out next to her husband's coffin, still unaware that pain could be just part of a cruel drama staged to serve the greed and cowardice of the very person she once placed all her trust in.

She also thought of Diệu Kỳ, her innocent nineteen-year-old sister, who now had to bear the charge of murder alone while the person who was really responsible for all this suffering was still living leisurely somewhere out there. The more she thought, the more she felt a smoldering fire of anger burning in her chest, an emotion she had never experienced with such intensity before during her twenty-seven years of quiet life as a well-protected heiress.

She told herself, no matter how dangerous the road ahead is, she will not back down. Because behind this truth lies not only her family's honor, but also the freedom and life of her sister, along with the fate of countless other innocent victims imprisoned in the darkness of Room Seven.