Chapter 3 — Whispers of Lu Xiao

The handsome man standing next to Ve Thu Tinh displayed a clear flash of dissatisfaction. "Miss Ve is a high-level recruit I headhunted with a substantial salary," he stated firmly. "I would ask that any uninvolved parties refrain from making slanderous remarks. Otherwise, the legal team at the Hoa Group is not just for show." His commanding presence was enough to make To Due take two steps back, shrinking behind me. At that moment, our sales manager came rushing over. I had treated him to several meals at a seven-star hotel just to secure an appointment with the Hoa Group. Before I could even speak, the manager bowed respectfully to the man. "CEO Hoa, this is President Luc of the Luc Group. He has come personally today to discuss a potential partnership."

"There is no need," Hoa Thoi Nghien replied coldly, rejecting the proposal outright. "I do not collaborate with individuals of poor character." Upon hearing this, I couldn't help but steal a glance at Ve Thu Tinh, wondering if she had played some trick behind the scenes. However, she remained perfectly composed, not even bothering to spare me a look. A wave of unease washed over me. After managing to coax To Due into leaving first, I waited until noon. When I saw Ve Thu Tinh heading down for lunch with her colleagues, I pulled her aside into a secluded corner. "The Hoa Group only recruits top-tier talent. You were a housewife for six years—how on earth did you get in here?"

Ve Thu Tinh looked down and let out a faint, bitter smile. "Luc Tieu, have you forgotten? I was admitted to the same university as you, graduating in the top six of our entire class. While I was at home taking care of Phi Phi, I still found time to earn certifications in nutrition and psychology, and I took on freelance work related to my major." I froze as a memory surfaced. Phi Phi was allergic to so many things—shrimp, crab, shellfish, even wheat and mango. When she was three, Ve Thu Tinh had intended to return to work, but a mistake at daycare led to a severe allergic reaction. Phi Phi had struggled to breathe and suffered from relentless diarrhea. It took an emergency room visit to save her life. At the time, I was so consumed by grief that I lashed out at Ve Thu Tinh, accusing her of neglecting our daughter for the sake of a meager paycheck. She had blamed herself deeply. Then my mother fell ill with cancer, and I asked her to stay home to help. Thinking back on it now, my throat felt as though it were being squeezed. It had been a long time since I heard Phi Phi mention an allergy. I had assumed she had simply outgrown them. I remembered a time when Triet Triet gave her a piece of candy—a mango-filled one, I think—and I hadn't thought twice about it. When Ve Thu Tinh saw it, she had swatted Triet Triet’s hand away. I had scolded her for overreacting. But while packing during the divorce, I had seen hospital admission forms for allergies in a drawer. Nothing had changed. The only thing that had changed was me—the man who had neglected his family and stopped caring enough about his own daughter.

Three months had passed since I last saw Phi Phi. To Due had enrolled Triet Triet in numerous extracurricular classes, and she insisted I accompany them every single time. After his lessons, we would go to the zoo, the arcade, or the movies. In the past, I had been too preoccupied with my career to spare time for such things with my daughter. Now, however, I was desperate to see Phi Phi. I wanted to ask her about Hoa Thoi Nghien. Ve Thu Tinh didn't prevent me from seeing our child; she was far too busy with her own work. Chen, the young woman she hired to care for Phi Phi, was youthful yet incredibly attentive. When I mentioned I would take Phi Phi out for a meal, Chen—likely following Ve Thu Tinh’s instructions—had already packed a bag with pre-cut fresh fruit, bottled water, and small sandwiches, as if she feared I would feed her something dangerous.

"Phi Phi, do you know the man who is often with your mother?" I asked. "Do you mean Uncle Thoi Nghien, Daddy?" she replied. The intimacy of the name stung. "Yes, him." "Of course! He said he and Mommy grew up together. They went to primary and middle school together—they’re very, very close friends!" I was stunned. Ve Thu Tinh had mentioned this years ago. She once told me about a neighbor boy. "His mother was very frail, but he was incredibly handsome," she had said. I used to pretend to be jealous, asking why she hadn't chosen her childhood sweetheart. "We were just kids then," she’d replied. "Later, I heard his father had an affair and his mother took him away. There was an accident later, and the father’s illegitimate child died. When he was eighteen, his mother passed away, and several luxury cars came to take him back to inherit the family estate." At the time, I thought she was just reciting a plot from a romance novel. She had acted regretful, saying he had been sent abroad and they lost touch. It seemed the circle had completed itself. Life was playing a cruel joke. Yet, I told myself, a divorced woman with a child would surely never catch the eye of the CEO of the Hoa family.

To Due called me. "Triet Triet heard you were taking Phi Phi to the amusement park, and he wants to go too." Upon hearing that Triet Triet was coming, Phi Phi’s expression immediately soured. Not wanting to ruin To Due’s mood, I tried to coax my daughter. "Triet Triet didn't have many chances to play when he was little. Aunt To worked very hard to raise him alone. I promised him that whenever we go to the park, I’d bring him along. Phi Phi is a sensible girl; you can understand that for Daddy, right?" The soft little hand in mine suddenly tried to pull away. I gripped it tighter, afraid that if I let go, she would vanish. Phi Phi lowered her head. "But Daddy, you were always busy before. You rarely took me out to play." "You were often sick," I countered. "I was afraid you would get too tired." Phi Phi’s constitution had always been weak. When she was four, I took her to the zoo, and she ate something she shouldn't have, resulting in a high fever and days in the hospital. I had decided then that it was better for her to stay home and watch television than to suffer outside. But her reaction now left me bewildered. "Mommy never worries about me getting tired," she said. "She prepares masks and brings food. I haven't been sick in a long time." I was speechless. Just then, To Due arrived with Triet Triet.

"Daddy!" Triet Triet shouted, immediately grabbing my arm with an expression as if someone had tried to steal his favorite toy. He clung to me, demanding to be carried. To Due gently but firmly stepped in front of Phi Phi, remarking that Triet Triet was closer to me than he was to his own mother. I saw my daughter turn her face away. A sharp, inexplicable ache filled my chest. Since she was small, Phi Phi had always been well-behaved, even taking her medicine without a fuss. She had grown used to a father who was always busy; her rare moments of clinginess were usually just requests for me to draw with her. Forgotten memories came rushing back. I remembered her bringing a family portrait she had drawn to my office. Triet Triet had been sitting in my desk chair. I didn't know what they had argued about, but Phi Phi claimed he had taken her things and torn her drawing. At the time, I only saw a plain piece of paper in the trash, shredded into bits. I didn't think it was a big deal. Triet Triet had cried piteously, and I focused on comforting him first, knowing that if I didn't, To Due would be heartbroken. That had sparked the first major argument between Ve Thu Tinh and To Due. Now, it hit me—Phi Phi hadn't drawn a family portrait in a very long time. It felt as though someone had struck me in the chest. A heavy, dull pain tightened around my heart without warning.

After a full afternoon of playing, I suggested going to Pizza Hut. Triet Triet cheered with excitement, praising me for knowing he loved the deluxe pizza and honey-glazed ribs. Phi Phi offered no reaction. The food in her bag was almost gone. I placed a slice of pizza in front of her. She glanced at it and pushed it away, whispering, "Daddy, I can't eat seafood. Mommy warned me, and Auntie Chen reminded me too." Flustered, I called the waiter to order something else. "I'm sorry, I was careless." Before the new food could arrive, an earthquake struck. The crowd panicked, surging toward the exits. I moved to pick up Phi Phi, but To Due grabbed my arm. "Triet Triet is heavier. You carry him; I’ll look after Phi Phi." Watching the chaotic mass of people, Triet Triet began to wail in terror. I didn't hesitate; I gripped Phi Phi’s hand and thrust it toward To Due. "Follow Aunt To!"

But when we finally made it outside, I realized To Due was not behind me. Word spread that a stampede had occurred. Panic seized me. When I finally spotted To Due pushing through the crowd, I breathed a sigh of relief—until I saw she was alone. Before I could speak, she burst into tears. "Tieu, it's my fault. I wore high heels today and could only hold her hand. Somehow, she let go and just disappeared." Seeing her so distraught, I couldn't bring myself to blame her. I charged back inside to find my child. The moment I saw Phi Phi lying motionless on the ground, my mind went blank. I rushed to her and scooped her up. I don't know what I had been thinking. I had held someone else's child to escape, leaving my own daughter in the hands of a stranger. Phi Phi’s eyelids fluttered. I held her tight, her small, limp arm dangling in the air. I had to get her to a hospital. I prepared to run, but Triet Triet grabbed my coat. "Daddy, my tummy hurts. Carry me." My footsteps faltered. From a distance, Ve Thu Tinh appeared in her business suit, with Hoa Thoi Nghien by her side. They looked as though they had just come from a meeting. Losing all her usual composure, she rushed over, nearly knocking me down. Her eyes were bloodshot as she snatched Phi Phi from my arms, her movements incredibly tender. Hoa Thoi Nghien stood beside her, his gaze filled with pure contempt. At that moment, Phi Phi’s tears finally spilled over. She buried her face in her mother’s chest and sobbed.

"Mommy, my tummy hurts, and my heart hurts, and my arm hurts too," she wailed. "If my arm is broken, will I never be able to draw again?" Ve Thu Tinh closed her eyes, fighting back the agony of her emotions. Her voice trembled, but she remained gentle. "No, darling. Mommy will find the best doctor. We will make you all better." I wanted to follow them, but Hoa Thoi Nghien took Phi Phi into his arms, and the three of them climbed into a waiting Maybach. I stood there, frozen and hollow, as if my soul had left my body.