To Nha Cam’s words made the entire room fall silent.

Even Tieu Hoa stopped crying.

Tong Chi Vien stared at her as if she had slapped him in front of everyone.

“Nha Cam,” he said sharply. “Enough.”

But she had already lost control.

For years, she had hidden behind weakness, tears, and that soft voice that made everyone believe she needed protection.

Now jealousy had torn the mask apart.

“Why should I stop?” she cried. “You let me live in your house. You take care of me whenever I’m sick. You remember what medicine I need, what food I like, even when I can’t sleep. Are you going to tell me that means nothing?”

I looked at Tong Chi Vien.

He didn’t answer.

And his silence was more useful than any confession.

I bent down and took Tieu Hoa from his arms.

This time he didn’t stop me.

“Now you understand why I’m leaving,” I said.

His face hardened.

“Uyen Thu, things aren’t as simple as you think.”

“They’re simpler.”

I looked at To Nha Cam.

“She wants you.”

Then at him.

“And you have spent years making her believe she can have you.”

To Nha Cam’s face changed.

Tong Chi Vien stepped toward me.

“I never promised her anything.”

“No?”

I smiled.

“Then tomorrow, ask her to leave the house.”

He stopped.

Exactly as I expected.

There it was again.

That hesitation.

That tiny pause that had stolen twenty years from me in my previous life.

I nodded.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For answering.”

I took both children by the hand.

“You should go.”

Tong Chi Vien’s voice lowered.

“Uyen Thu, don’t force me to fight you for custody.”

My hand tightened around Tieu Quan’s.

In my previous life, that threat had destroyed me.

This time, I looked directly into his eyes.

“Then fight.”

He froze.

“You think your position guarantees you’ll win?”

His expression darkened.

I continued calmly.

“My father is already coming.”

To Nha Cam suddenly laughed.

“So what if your father was once a military-region commander? He’s retired.”

I turned toward her.

“You’re right.”

Her smile grew.

Then I added:

“But he kept records.”

Her smile vanished.

Tong Chi Vien’s eyes sharpened.

“What records?”

I didn’t answer.

Because in my previous life, after losing my children, I had discovered something far too late.

My father had never trusted To Nha Cam.

Years earlier, he had investigated how she obtained special housing privileges, medical referrals, and family allowances despite having no legal relationship to Tong Chi Vien.

At the time, I became angry with him.

I accused him of interfering in my marriage.

I even begged him to destroy the investigation.

He agreed.

Or so I had believed.

Before dying, my father told me:

“Uyen Thu, if one day you regret protecting the wrong people, open the green box in my study.”

In my previous life, I never opened it.

This time, I would.

A knock sounded outside.

Three firm knocks.

Tong Chi Vien frowned.

Before anyone could move, the guest-house manager opened the door.

An elderly man stood outside in a dark coat.

His hair had turned almost completely white.

But his posture was still straight.

“Dad…”

The word escaped my mouth before I could stop it.

Lam Quoc Khanh looked at me.

Then at the children.

Then at Tong Chi Vien and To Nha Cam.

His expression became cold.

“I heard my daughter was divorced.”

Tong Chi Vien immediately straightened.

“Commander Lam—”

“I’m retired.”

My father entered.

“You don’t need to call me commander anymore.”

His gaze moved to To Nha Cam.

Strangely, she stepped backward.

That reaction did not escape me.

My father noticed too.

“So you’re still here.”

Still.

I turned toward him.

“You know her?”

To Nha Cam quickly interrupted.

“Commander Lam, we met before—”

“Not you.”

My father’s voice cut through hers.

“I was asking why a woman who was supposed to leave this district six years ago is still living under my daughter’s roof.”

Tong Chi Vien’s face changed.

“What do you mean?”

My father looked at him.

“You don’t know?”

For the first time, To Nha Cam truly panicked.

“Uncle Lam, please…”

He ignored her.

He took a worn green file from inside his coat.

The same color as the box he had once mentioned.

My heartbeat accelerated.

My father placed it on the table.

“Six years ago, Nha Cam applied for permanent relocation to the southern medical district.”

Tong Chi Vien frowned.

“That application was canceled because of her health.”

“No.”

My father opened the file.

“It was approved.”

Silence.

Tong Chi Vien slowly turned toward her.

“Nha Cam?”

She shook her head.

“I can explain.”

My father placed another sheet down.

“She also received housing.”

Another document.

“A medical placement.”

Another.

“And enough financial support to live independently.”

Tong Chi Vien’s face became increasingly pale.

“Then why did you tell me you had nowhere to go?”

To Nha Cam began crying.

“I was afraid…”

“Afraid of what?”

She couldn’t answer.

I suddenly understood.

She had never stayed because she needed him.

She had stayed because she wanted my place.

But my father wasn’t finished.

He removed one final envelope.

“This is the part my daughter never knew.”

He looked at me.

“I investigated Nha Cam because her application contained the name of the person who guaranteed her transfer.”

I frowned.

“Who?”

My father didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he looked at Tong Chi Vien.

And for the first time since entering the room, his expression showed something deeper than anger.

Disappointment.

“The guarantor used your military credentials.”

Tong Chi Vien went rigid.

“That’s impossible.”

“I know.”

My father pushed the document toward him.

“Because on the day this was signed, you were stationed three hundred kilometers away.”

Tong Chi Vien grabbed the paper.

His face changed instantly.

At the bottom was his name.

His identification number.

His authorization seal.

And a signature almost identical to his.

Almost.

To Nha Cam stopped crying.

I looked at her.

“You forged his signature?”

She backed toward the door.

My father shook his head.

“No.”

Everyone turned toward him.

“That’s what I thought too.”

He reached into the envelope and removed a photograph.

“But Nha Cam wasn’t the person who submitted the documents.”

He placed the photograph on the table.

Tong Chi Vien stared at it.

Then all the color disappeared from his face.

I stepped closer.

The photograph showed To Nha Cam standing outside the military administration office six years earlier.

Beside her was another man.

Someone I recognized immediately.

Someone who, in my previous life, had visited my home countless times and called Tong Chi Vien his closest brother.

Deputy Commander Zhou Ming.

My father looked at me.

“Uyen Thu, your divorce may not be the real problem.”

He tapped the photograph.

“Someone has been trying to break your family apart for six years.”

And suddenly, To Nha Cam turned toward the open window instead of the door.