Chapter 1 — Wedding's Off, Take the Dowry Back!

To put me in my place, the Pho family shut the doors of their hotel for five hours straight on our wedding day. I sat inside the wedding car, counting every single second, listening to the mocking laughter of the crowd outside. The seventy-two chests of dowry my father had meticulously prepared were left baking under the scorching July sun for those five whole hours. I was supposed to marry into the Pho family with grand honor and dignity; instead, I became the laughingstock of the entire city of Hothanh. I waited until the very last second of the fifth hour, then tore off my bridal veil, pushed the car door open, and stepped out.

"The wedding is off. Take everything back."

Those tightly shut doors swung open the exact moment the words left my mouth, but the wedding car had already turned around. The news instantly set all of Hothanh ablaze.

When the wedding car had first stopped in front of the main entrance of the Boyue Hotel, the sun had been directly overhead. The July heat was so brutal it felt as if it could melt the asphalt on the road. I had only rolled down the car window for a brief moment, yet sweat was already trickling down my chin. Outside, the welcoming band had abruptly stopped playing halfway through their song, followed by a flurry of rustling footsteps. The wedding coordinator’s voice was hushed, but I could still hear every word clearly.

"CEO Pho said to have the bride wait in the car for a moment. The banquet hall decoration isn't finished yet."

Not finished yet? Our wedding date had been set five months ago, the betrothal gifts had been finalized last month, and only yesterday, the Pho family had repeatedly confirmed every detail of the itinerary. And now they were telling me the decorations weren't finished? I gripped the velvet clutch in my hand, keeping silent.

Outside, my assistant, Ayu, grew anxious, her voice cracking.

"Mr. Truong, what on earth do you mean by that?!"

The coordinator let out a couple of awkward chuckles.

"Don't be hasty. CEO Pho is busy with urgent business. Just wait a little longer, it'll be fine."

I spoke through the car window.

"It's fine. We will wait."

Ayu choked back her words. I could hear her stomping her feet outside, though she didn't dare do it too forcefully. In truth, I understood the situation better than anyone. Unfinished decorations, urgent business—it was all a facade. Pho Tac Du was clearly putting me in my place, setting his rules. He was sending me a clear message: so what if I was the precious daughter of the Ngu family? Once I married into the Pho family, I had to keep my head bowed and learn my place. From the very moment I crossed their threshold, my dignity was to be trampled beneath his feet.

I placed the clutch on my lap and closed my eyes. Very well, let us wait. I wanted to see exactly how long he intended to leave me baking out here.

The first hour passed. The crowd of onlookers outside the hotel grew thicker by the minute. The Boyue Hotel was located in the most bustling commercial district of Hothanh, and the scale of this wedding had been made exceptionally grand. My father, renowned for doting on his daughter, had prepared seventy-two chests of dowry, which had been transported all the way from the old Ngu estate, their white silk drapes stretching down half the street. Who in Hothanh's elite circles didn't know what lay inside those sandalwood chests?

The first chest held a complete set of pigeon-blood ruby jewelry, a collector's item acquired from Sotheby's, with a hue more vibrant than the Pho family's own heirloom set. The eighth chest contained the deeds to three floors of prime commercial office space in the city center, with annual rental income starting at an eight-figure sum. From the twentieth chest onward, it was entirely filled with property deeds in tier-one cities and shares in private equity funds. The last few chests held rare books kept by my late mother during her lifetime, alongside oil paintings she had painted with her own hands. While these final items might not have commanded the highest market value, to me, they were heavier than anything else in the world.

At this very moment, those seventy-two chests of dowry were lined up neatly across the plaza in front of the hotel entrance. The July sun beat down on them without mercy. I heard whispers rising from the crowd.

"It's been almost an hour. Why hasn't the Pho family let them in yet?"

"Oh, haven't you heard? CEO Pho never wanted to marry Ngu Thanh Nghien in the first place. This marriage was forced upon them by the patriarchs of both families."

"Still, they shouldn't do this! Leaving seventy-two chests of dowry out in the blistering sun like that—whose face are they slapping?"

"The Ngu family's, of course. CEO Pho is making sure all of Hothanh knows that the daughter of the Ngu family isn't worth his personal welcome."

My nails dug deep into my palms. Ayu's voice drifted in from outside the window, thick with tears.

"Miss, let me call the Chairman..."

"Do not call him."

"But..."

"I said, do not call."

If my father found out, a massive scene would undoubtedly erupt on this plaza today. With his fiery temper, he would bring his men, storm right inside, and drag Pho Tac Du out. And what would happen then? Relationships would be utterly severed, the collaborative projects between our families ruined, the Ngu Group's stock would plummet, and the entire game would be lost.

Pho Tac Du knew this all too well. He knew I wouldn't dare make a scene, knew the Ngu family couldn't easily call off the wedding, and knew the hundreds of millions riding on our joint venture were weighing heavily on us—forcing me to meekly endure this humiliation.

I took a deep breath, squeezing my palms even harder until they bled. Fine. I would continue to wait.

The second hour arrived. The world beneath my bridal veil grew increasingly stifling, and my lips were dry and peeling. Ayu slid a bottle of cold water through the gap in the car window, but I pushed it back. If I lifted my veil to drink water, by tomorrow, all of Hothanh would whisper that the Ngu family's daughter couldn't even wait, lifting her own veil like an uncultured bride who was desperate to throw herself into the Pho family.

What Pho Tac Du wanted was precisely this: to make me lose my composure first, to make me lower myself.