One hour after I signed the divorce agreement, the two hundred million yuan arrived.

I looked at the banking notification.

Then pressed Accept.

I wasn’t going to perform some ridiculous act of pride and throw his money back.

Co Dien Chau wanted to pay two hundred million to erase his wife and two sons from his life.

Fine.

I would keep the money.

Consider it the cheapest lesson he would ever buy.

Lam Tieu Nha smiled when she saw me checking my phone.

“Sister Tham Ngu, now that you’ve received the money, you should keep your promise.”

I looked at her.

“Which promise?”

“To leave Hai Thanh.”

She stroked her stomach.

“After my son is born, I don’t want him hearing rumors about two sick children fighting with him for the inheritance.”

Dien Chau didn’t correct her.

That hurt more than her words.

I nodded.

“Don’t worry.”

Then I looked directly at my ex-husband.

“From this moment on, even if you kneel before me one day, I won’t bring those children back to the Co family.”

He laughed.

“You think too highly of yourself.”

Perhaps.

I called one number.

“Brother.”

There was silence on the other end.

Then a man’s voice became tense.

“Where are you?”

“St. Anne Private Hospital.”

“Which room?”

I told him.

Twenty minutes later, the entire VIP floor changed.

Hospital executives arrived first.

Then the director of neonatology.

Then four men in dark suits entered the corridor.

And finally my older brother, Tham Kien Minh, walked through the doors.

Dien Chau frowned.

He recognized him.

Everyone in Hai Thanh did.

Kien Minh was vice chairman of Tham Global Holdings.

The man whose photograph appeared on financial magazines.

The heir to one of the most powerful families in the capital.

He walked straight past Dien Chau.

Then stopped beside my bed.

When he saw how pale I was, his expression hardened.

“Ngu.”

I hadn’t heard my brother call me that gently in twenty years.

My eyes burned.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head.

“You don’t apologize for coming home.”

Lam Tieu Nha’s smile had disappeared.

Dien Chau stared between us.

“Why are you calling President Tham your brother?”

Kien Minh slowly turned.

“Because she is my sister.”

Silence.

Dien Chau laughed once.

As though the sentence were absurd.

“Impossible.”

My brother took out his phone.

A photograph appeared.

Twenty years earlier.

A little girl standing between my parents.

Me.

The same birthmark beside my ear.

The same eyes.

Kien Minh’s voice became cold.

“Tham Ngu, youngest daughter of the Tham family. Lost during a kidnapping incident when she was six. Found again seven years ago.”

Dien Chau’s face changed.

Seven years.

Exactly when I met him.

I had just recovered my identity then.

But after spending most of my childhood with an ordinary adoptive family, I had refused to suddenly live as some wealthy heiress.

Then I fell in love.

And made the worst decision of all.

I hid everything.

Dien Chau whispered:

“You knew?”

“Yes.”

“And you never told me?”

I smiled faintly.

“You were always telling me how much you hated rich women who depended on their families.”

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Kien Minh looked toward the NICU.

“Where are my nephews?”

The hospital director personally stepped forward.

“We are preparing their transfer.”

Dien Chau immediately frowned.

“Transfer?”

“To the Tham Children’s Medical Center in the capital.”

The director lowered his voice respectfully.

“A specialist team is already on its way.”

Lam Tieu Nha suddenly said:

“There’s no point wasting resources. The doctors already said their condition—”

My brother turned toward her.

She immediately stopped.

Kien Minh’s gaze was frighteningly calm.

“Who are you?”

Dien Chau answered before she could.

“Lam Tieu Nha.”

“My fiancée.”

The word reached me clearly.

Fiancée.

Our divorce agreement had been signed less than an hour earlier.

Kien Minh smiled.

It wasn’t pleasant.

“So this is the woman for whom you discarded my sister and called my nephews trash.”

Dien Chau’s jaw tightened.

“This is family business.”

“No.”

My brother stepped closer.

“You made it business when you valued their lives according to their usefulness as heirs.”

Then the NICU director entered.

He was holding two medical files.

His expression was strange.

“Mrs… Miss Tham.”

“Yes?”

“We repeated the twins’ examinations at your brother’s request.”

I sat straighter.

“How are they?”

“Premature, certainly. They require monitoring and treatment.”

He hesitated.

“But the prognosis given to you earlier was inaccurate.”

My heart stopped.

“What do you mean?”

“The report stating a survival probability below thirty percent does not correspond to their current clinical findings.”

Dien Chau frowned.

“That’s impossible.”

The doctor opened the original report.

“This document also lists neurological findings that were never confirmed by any diagnostic test.”

I stared at him.

“So my children…”

“They are fragile.”

He smiled gently.

“But there is currently no basis for calling their future hopeless.”

My eyes filled with tears.

For the first time since giving birth, they were tears of relief.

Then I looked toward Lam Tieu Nha.

She had taken a step backward.

Just one.

But I saw it.

So did my brother.

Kien Minh asked:

“Who issued the original assessment?”

The doctor checked.

“Dr. Lin Wei.”

Tieu Nha dropped her handbag.

Dien Chau turned.

“Do you know him?”

“No.”

Too fast.

I had spent seven years watching that man negotiate.

He caught lies almost instantly.

Now his eyes narrowed.

“Tieu Nha.”

“I said I don’t.”

My brother’s assistant entered.

“President Tham.”

He handed Kien Minh a tablet.

“We checked Dr. Lin.”

My brother looked at the screen.

Then at Tieu Nha.

“He received three transfers during the last month.”

Tieu Nha went white.

“From an account belonging to Lam Medical Consulting.”

Dien Chau stared at her.

“Your brother’s company.”

She began shaking her head.

“It’s a coincidence.”

I closed my eyes.

So there it was.

She hadn’t merely replaced me.

She had helped create the excuse for my children to be abandoned.

Dien Chau grabbed the report.

“You told me their condition was almost hopeless.”

Tieu Nha started crying.

“I repeated what the doctor said!”

“And the doctor was being paid by your family?”

“I didn’t know!”

Dien Chau looked at her stomach.

For the first time, there was no tenderness in his eyes.

Before he could question her further, his phone began ringing.

He ignored it.

It rang again.

Then his assistant called.

He answered angrily.

“What?”

The voice on the other end spoke so quickly that even from my bed I could hear panic.

Dien Chau’s face changed.

“What do you mean the credit line was withdrawn?”

A pause.

“Which fund?”

He slowly looked at me.

The assistant answered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Deep Blue Capital.”

Silence.

Three years earlier, Co Group had almost collapsed under expansion debt.

A foreign venture fund had entered quietly.

It refinanced two major projects.

Connected Co Group with international partners.

And backed the acquisition that tripled Dien Chau’s personal fortune.

Deep Blue Capital.

He had called its founder a genius countless times.

He had simply never met that founder.

Until now.

I looked at my brother.

“Did you do it?”

Kien Minh shook his head.

“No.”

Then smiled slightly.

“I don’t control Deep Blue.”

Dien Chau’s eyes slowly moved toward me.

I removed the hospital bracelet from my wrist.

“Correct.”

My phone rang.

I answered.

“Proceed.”

The person on the other side replied:

“Understood, Chairwoman Tham. All financing connected to Co Group will enter risk review immediately.”

Dien Chau stopped breathing.

I ended the call.

For seven years, he had called me a gold digger.

He believed he had fed me.

Clothed me.

Given me a life I could never have earned.

Meanwhile, the woman cooking dinner in his kitchen had secretly approved the financing that kept his company alive.

His voice was almost a whisper.

“You’re Deep Blue?”

“Yes.”

Tieu Nha stared at me.

“That’s impossible.”

I smiled.

“You’ve been saying that a lot today.”

The hospital staff arrived to transfer my sons.

I pushed myself upright.

Kien Minh immediately came to help me.

As we reached the door, Dien Chau finally spoke.

“Tham Ngu.”

I stopped.

He looked through the glass toward the two incubators.

Something had changed in his expression.

Fear.

Regret.

Maybe both.

“Those children…”

“No.”

I knew what he was about to say.

I turned toward him.

“You signed away every claim you wanted to abandon.”

His face tightened.

“You can’t erase the fact that I’m their father.”

I held his gaze.

“No.”

Then I glanced at Tieu Nha.

“But before worrying about my sons, perhaps you should verify the child you decided was worthy of replacing them.”

Tieu Nha froze.

Dien Chau slowly turned toward her.

My brother’s assistant stepped forward and handed him one final envelope.

“What is this?” Dien Chau asked.

Kien Minh answered:

“A laboratory report delivered to us this morning.”

Tieu Nha’s lips lost all color.

Dien Chau opened it.

He read the first page.

Then the second.

His hands began shaking.

Because Lam Tieu Nha had indeed been pregnant.

The child was healthy.

Male.

Exactly as she had promised.

There was only one problem.

The preliminary paternity screening excluded Co Dien Chau as the father.

And when he looked up again, I was already walking away with the two only children he had ever truly had.