Chapter 14 — The Secret Pension

Duc Hai, back then you told me you were only transferring the account temporarily. You claimed your older brother was in poor health and you feared he would spend the money recklessly. You even insisted that Director Han himself had given his approval.

Deo Hai’s expression grew pitch black and menacing.

When did I ever say such a thing?

I held the approval documents up directly before his face.

If you never said it, then how is it that these documents bear your proxy signature?

Deo Hai offered a cold, mocking laugh.

My brother trusted me and asked me to handle the paperwork for him. Is there something wrong with that?

My father stared at him fixedly.

I asked you to handle my retirement paperwork. I never asked you to swap my allowance card, and I certainly never gave you permission to use my hard-earned money to buy a car and remodel a house for your son.

I had no idea when Han Viet had rushed over, but he was now standing behind the crowd, his face as pale as a sheet of blank paper. Hearing my father bring up the car, panic instantly seized him.

Uncle, I didn't steal that car. My parents bought it for me. What does that have to do with me?

I turned my gaze upon him.

When you were sending text messages instructing people to deactivate the card, you certainly didn't look like someone who was clueless about what was happening.

Han Viet was left completely speechless, unable to muster a single rebuttal. The police officers instructed everyone to stop arguing and immediately proceeded to seal the documents gathered at the scene. La Minh handed over the printed pages from the social security bureau, the detailed bank transaction histories, and the original records discovered in the storage room for official registration. Throughout the entire process, my father stood close by, his posture straightening by the degree. He gazed at the official notice suspending the trial run, his fingers gently brushing against his own name printed on the paper. At that fleeting moment, a profound realization washed over me: it was not merely that age was catching up to him; rather, he had simply been bowed beneath a crushing weight for far too long. Lu Kien Quoc was pulled aside for questioning by an officer, while Deo Hai desperately attempted to maintain a facade of bravado.

It was merely routine family management. Do you really intend to use a few tattered old papers to pin a crime on me? Think very carefully before you act.

La Minh cast a sharp glance in his direction.

Whether or not this constitutes routine family management is not something you get to decide with a single word. For twelve full years, there have been regular, fixed transfers moving outward, with massive sums continuously flowing straight into your household. The asset transfer records are missing a critical photograph. The dates listed on the joint confirmation form directly contradict the medical records. And today, unauthorized notes were even smuggled into the system database. Whether or not all of this constitutes sufficient grounds for a formal investigation is something you know quite well in your own heart.

The corners of Deo Hai’s mouth twitched uncontrollably. Ma Xao Van hurried over as well. The instant her eyes landed on the police officers and the evidence bags, she burst into loud, theatrical tears.

We are completely innocent! For all these years, we took care of his older brother and sister-in-law. If we had no great merit, we at least had bitter toil! Now that their daughter has finally returned, she immediately wants to drive us straight to our graves.

Not a single soul in the surrounding crowd uttered a word in her defense. Even the elderly night watchman from the factory gates approached the scene. Clutched in his weathered hands was an old factory newspaper and a heavily worn duty logbook. He walked straight up to my father, his eyes bloodshot and brimming with emotion.

Engineer Han, I truly should have brought these things out into the light long ago.

My father paused, completely stunned.

Old man Tan, what is it that you are holding?

The elderly watchman flipped the duty logbook open to a yellowed page dated twelve years ago.

On the exact night of the accident, past ten o'clock in the evening, you came back to the factory. You went straight to the administrative office because you wanted to submit supplementary safety re-inspection documents. I was the one who unlocked the door for you. The record is right here in black and white.

My father took the book with trembling hands. Right there on the page, the three characters of his own name were written clearly in the night-shift entry register. The recorded time was ten twenty-five in the evening on the day of the tragic accident. The stated reason was the submission of the re-inspection report for the trial run. My father’s hands shook with such violence that the pages fluttered.

I genuinely believed this logbook had been lost forever.

The old watchman let out a long, heavy sigh.

When the factory was transferring its archives, I saw that they were preparing to throw it away, so I secretly kept it. I was simply terrified that one day, no one would remember that you had been wrongfully accused.

Deo Hai’s complexion turned even more ghastly. A sharp ache pierced through my heart. It turned out that not everyone had chosen to forget. It was simply that the decent people had been consumed by fear, while the wicked were far too busy covering up their tracks. The police formally logged the duty logbook into evidence. La Minh lowered his voice to inform me that the social security bureau would immediately initiate a comprehensive audit process, while the bank would cooperate fully to investigate the long-term transaction histories and over-the-counter paperwork. I gave a firm nod in agreement. Yet, deep down, I knew that documentary evidence alone might not be enough. Twelve years was an eternity. So much of the stolen money had already been squandered, and countless individuals would inevitably try to shift the blame onto others. My father looked directly at Deo Hai.

The money, I will recover every last coin. And my honor, I will reclaim as well.

Deo Hai suddenly let out a sharp, cynical laugh.

Honor? Older brother, do not forget that the person injured in that accident twelve years ago was not only Cao Kien Dan.

My father’s expression shifted subtly, and I quickly turned my gaze back to Deo Hai. Taking a slow step forward, Deo Hai lowered his voice to a whisper that only those of us closest to him could catch.

There was someone else involved, and there is no guarantee that person will be willing to help you now. If that person steps forward and claims that you were the one who ordered him to alter the parameters back then, then all of these scraps of paper will become utterly worthless.

A cold shiver raced down my spine, tightening every muscle in my back. Having delivered his parting threat, Deo Hai stepped backward, the shameless, defiant sneer returning to his features. At that precise moment, my phone began to ring. It was Duong Vy. Her voice was pitched exceptionally low, yet she could not entirely mask her breathless urgency.

Han Thanh, your mother has regained consciousness. She says she has finally remembered. During those hospital days twelve years ago, the thing that Deo Hai brought to her room was not a container of food, but an inkpad and a stamp.

I clutched the phone tightly, my ears ringing with numbness.

An inkpad?

Duong Vy’s voice came through in broken fragments. She just woke up and lacks the physical strength. But she keeps repeating the exact same thing over and over again.