The phone rang only once.

Then someone answered.

No greeting.

Just a low male voice:

—Who is this?

My throat tightened.

—My name is So Dao.

Silence.

Then something changed on the other end.

The man’s breathing became heavier.

—Say that again.

—So Dao.

Another silence.

This time, longer.

Then he asked:

—What is your mother’s name?

—So Van Thanh.

The sound on the other end stopped completely.

Several seconds later, the man’s voice became strangely hoarse.

—Where is she?

I looked at the portrait surrounded by white flowers.

—She died.

A chair scraped sharply against the floor on the other end.

—What did you say?

—Today is her funeral.

The man didn’t speak.

For several seconds, all I could hear was breathing.

Then:

—Send me your location.

I hesitated.

—Who are you?

He answered slowly:

—Someone who should have found you twenty years ago.

The call ended.

I stared at the old phone.

Twenty years?

Before I could understand, one of my friends rushed toward me.

—Dao Dao, people from the Co family are here.

I raised my head.

Mrs. Trieu walked into the funeral hall wearing an expensive dark coat.

Behind her were two lawyers.

No flowers.

No condolences.

Only documents.

She glanced at my mother’s portrait and frowned.

—Let’s finish this quickly.

She put the divorce agreement in front of me.

—Sign.

I looked at her.

—At my mother’s funeral?

—Moc Phong and Tuyet Nhi are waiting for the formalities.

Her voice lowered.

—Don’t make things difficult for everyone.

I almost laughed.

—Everyone?

—Your son betrayed me with my best friend.

—My mother died after learning the truth.

—And you’re worried that I’m making things difficult?

Mrs. Trieu’s face darkened.

—Watch your attitude.

One lawyer pushed the pen toward me.

—Miss So, the compensation terms are already generous.

Five hundred thousand yuan.

I looked at the number.

Then remembered that four years earlier, my mother had sold the only apartment she owned to help Co Moc Phong through his company’s financial crisis.

He had promised to return every cent.

He never did.

Now his family wanted to buy my silence with less than what my mother had once given him.

I picked up the pen.

Mrs. Trieu smiled.

Then I tore the agreement in half.

Her smile vanished.

—So Dao!

—Tell Co Moc Phong that if he wants a divorce, he can come kneel in front of my mother’s portrait and ask for one himself.

She raised her hand.

—You—

Before she could continue, the doors of the funeral hall suddenly opened.

Everyone turned.

Three black cars had stopped outside.

Men in dark suits entered first.

Then an elderly man stepped through the rain.

Silver hair.

Black cane.

A face I had only ever seen once before.

On television.

Chairman Kieu Minh Duc.

Founder of Kieu Holdings.

One of the richest men in Giang Thanh.

Mrs. Trieu’s face changed instantly.

—Chairman Kieu?

He ignored her.

His eyes went directly to my mother’s photograph.

For the first time, the powerful man everyone feared looked as though he had forgotten how to breathe.

He walked toward the altar.

Slowly.

Then stopped.

His hand trembled on the cane.

—Van Thanh…

My entire body went cold.

He knew my mother.

Mrs. Trieu forced a smile.

—Chairman Kieu, what brings you—

He turned toward her.

That one look silenced her.

Then he looked at me.

—Are you Dao Dao?

I nodded cautiously.

His eyes reddened.

He reached inside his coat and took out an old photograph.

My mother.

Very young.

Standing beside him.

And in her arms…

a baby.

Me.

My fingers began trembling.

—What is this?

Chairman Kieu stared at me.

Then said something that made everyone in the room freeze.

—Your mother never told you?

I shook my head.

His voice broke.

—You’re my granddaughter.

Mrs. Trieu stumbled backward.

—Impossible.

Chairman Kieu slowly turned toward her.

—You were just forcing my granddaughter to sign what?

Nobody answered.

The torn divorce papers lay on the floor.

His gaze fell on them.

Then on the five-hundred-thousand-yuan compensation clause.

He laughed.

A cold laugh.

—The Co family has become very brave.

Mrs. Trieu immediately changed her tone.

—Chairman Kieu, this is a misunderstanding—

—A misunderstanding?

He struck his cane against the floor.

The entire room fell silent.

—My daughter disappeared from the Kieu family twenty-three years ago.

—Today I found her funeral.

His gaze moved toward me.

—And the first thing I see is your family bullying her only child in front of her coffin.

Mrs. Trieu’s face was completely white.

At that exact moment, another car stopped outside.

Co Moc Phong rushed in.

Behind him was Lam Tuyet Nhi.

She was holding his arm.

Moc Phong looked irritated.

—So Dao, what nonsense did you tell my mother—

Then he saw Chairman Kieu.

His voice stopped.

—Chairman… Kieu?

The old man turned toward him.

—You’re Co Moc Phong?

Moc Phong swallowed.

—Yes.

Chairman Kieu looked at the woman holding his arm.

—And this must be the pregnant mistress.

Lam Tuyet Nhi immediately released him.

—No, sir, it’s not—

I almost smiled.

Only an hour earlier, she had been carrying the heir of the Co family.

Now suddenly she didn’t want to stand too close.

Moc Phong looked at me.

Confusion.

Then anger.

—So Dao, what exactly is going on?

I hadn’t answered when Chairman Kieu’s assistant approached him and whispered something.

The old man’s expression changed.

He looked at me.

—Dao Dao.

—There’s something else.

My heart tightened.

—What?

He handed me a sealed envelope.

My mother’s handwriting was on the front.

For my daughter. Open only after K finds you.

My fingers turned cold.

I opened it.

Inside was a DNA report.

Two names.

Mine.

And another man’s.

When I saw the second name, I forgot how to breathe.

Because it wasn’t Chairman Kieu.

It wasn’t anyone from the Kieu family.

It was—

Co Jian Guo.

The deceased father of Co Moc Phong.

I slowly raised my head.

Moc Phong was staring at the same page over my shoulder.

His face had gone completely gray.

—That can’t be…

Chairman Kieu’s voice became terrifyingly calm.

—Now I finally understand why Van Thanh disappeared.

He looked directly at Moc Phong.

—And why your father spent twenty years making sure this child never returned to the Kieu family.

Moc Phong stepped back.

—What are you saying?

I looked at the DNA report again.

Then at the man I had called my husband for four years.

And suddenly, the divorce was no longer the biggest secret in that funeral hall.

Because according to the paper in my hand…

Co Moc Phong and I might never have been husband and wife in the way either of us believed.