Chapter 9 — The Silence Between Two Loves

Chu Nghien Bach said, his voice lowered.

"The car your father was driving on the day of the accident... also went to that workshop for maintenance."

“The time… is three days before the incident.”

The air seemed to freeze.

“Nghien Bach… do you think my father had this evidence that he was—”

“Possible.”

“But the problem is… what your father has in his hand is just a copy.”

“Where is the original… he doesn't know.”

“He only took notes during the investigation, but before they could hand them over to the authorities... something happened.”

“It was those records that Tham Tri Ngam took away…?”

“Very likely.”

“But what he took was just a copy.”

“If the original exists… it's still out there somewhere.”

“Why are you sure you have the original?”

“Because during the call with the driver named Liu, your father once said—”

“‘I have kept the original in a safe place. If anything happens to me, please take it out and give it to the right person.’”

"But driver Luu... before he could get it, he was taken abroad."

“So… where is that safe place?”

“Don't know.”

“But I think… your father will definitely hide it in a place where only he can find it.”

I closed my eyes. What habits did my father have before...? Where do you often go? Is there any place... that is your own secret? An image appeared. When I was a child, my father had an old iron chest. Put it under the bed. In there were all the things he considered "treasures" - Old photos, military discharge papers, a few miscellaneous papers. I used to be naughty and he scolded me very harshly. After he passed away, I opened that box. Just normal old stuff. Nothing special. But if there really was something to hide— Where would he hide it? An old saying... suddenly popped into my head.

"Under the kitchen of the old house... there is an iron box buried. That is the root of our house."

I opened my eyes.

“I know.”

“Nghien Bach, I know where it is.”

“Under the kitchen.”

“Nghien Bach, I have to go now.”

“Don't go alone.”

“No way.”

I tightened my grip on the phone.

“If Tham Tri Ngam is also investigating… I have to get it before him.”

“I'll go with you.”

“I go alone.”

“I continue to investigate the shell company network and Ma Cuong.”

“Let's split up.”

“Tong Van—”

“This is my father's story.”

I interrupted.

“I have to do it myself.”

That evening— I sent Niem Niem to my mother. Using the excuse of going to the city for work. Then I drove alone... back to my ancestral home. The house is in a small village below the district. Abandoned long ago. The fence collapsed in half. The field is overgrown with grass. I took the flashlight... went straight to the kitchen. The clay stove is old. The outside is plastered with a layer of lime and cracked. I picked up a stone— Started pounding. Hit more than a dozen times in a row. The lime layer broke off. Exposed brick crack. I used my hands to pry. Broken nails. But I don't stop. Each brick was removed by me. I touched something cold. An iron box. The size of an A4 sheet. Patchy rust. My hands trembled. I opened the box. It's a stack of documents. And a USB. First page— It's my father's handwriting. Neat, square. Each line is as strong as a soldier.

“Recording evidence of law violations compiled by Tham Group - Tong Vien Son.”

I turned the pages. Time. Location. Figure. Incident. Copy of bank transaction. Email photo. Recording content. The “traffic accident” of the rival director— In this document— It is clearly recorded:

“Suspected murder.”

Last page— Is an additional paragraph. Recorded two days before his death.

“I feel like someone is watching.”

“If something happens to me... it's definitely not an accident.”

“Please hand this document over to the police.”

“Signed: Tong Vien Son.”

“The last autograph.”

The two words "last autograph" - Written in red ink. Has faded over time. But each stroke— Like engraving on paper. Carved into my heart. I hugged the iron box. Sitting next to the collapsed kitchen. Crying until my whole body trembled. My dad… knows. He knew he would die. But he didn't run. Leave all evidence behind. Then still live like a normal person. Waiting for the truck... to come. He did not die by mistake. Exterminated. As for Tham Tri Ngam— He took the copy. He knows everything. He knows— Who killed my father. But he— Never told me. He chose to stay silent. I drove through the night back to the district. It was three o'clock in the morning when I got home. Niem Niem slept very soundly. My mother sat on the sofa waiting, her eyes red from being awake.

“Van Van, I—”

“Mom, I'm okay.”

I hugged her.

“I found what dad left behind.”

My mother stopped. Then tears fell.

“Your dad… I know… he couldn't have been just an accident.”

Her voice choked.

"A few days before the incident, he was very strange. At night he didn't sleep, he just stood on the balcony smoking. Mom asked him and he said... 'It's okay, it's just that there are a few things I can't think through'."

“Mom, why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“What's the use of talking?”

My mother wiped her tears.

"Your father is gone, the driver who caused the accident has been prosecuted. I'm alone... what else can I do?"

“Mom didn't even dare to go look for the Tham family... she was afraid—”

She didn't finish. But I understand. She is afraid of the Tham family. Afraid of that powerful family. My father worked as a driver for them for thirty years— He knew best… how scary they were. That's why he hid the evidence. Don't dare hand it over directly to the police. Because he knew— Before he could hand it over… he would die. I spent the whole night— Reading all the documents in the iron box. The more I read... the colder I became. Tham Group's problem— Much more serious than I thought. Transnational money laundering. Those things… are just the surface. What makes my scalp numb— Are “accidents”. In addition to that rival director— There were also two of Tham's internal employees. Both were preparing to denounce the company— Then they had "accidents". A person "slipped" and fell from the construction site. A person "suddenly died" at home. All were concluded to be accidents or illnesses. There are no criminal investigations. But in my father's documents— There is one thing in common.