Pho Han Chau called seventeen times that night.

I knew because when I finally turned my phone back on, the notification screen was filled with his name.

Seventeen missed calls.

Three messages.

And one voice recording.

For a moment, I stared at the screen.

Three years ago, seeing his name appear would have made my heart race.

I would have wondered if he was angry.

If he was tired.

If he needed me.

Now, I only felt calm.

I pressed play.

“Tri Y, what exactly are you doing?”

His voice was no longer cold.

There was frustration.

Confusion.

Even a little panic.

“The company accounts are frozen. Several investors are asking questions. Explain what happened.”

I almost laughed.

Explain?

That word was interesting.

For three years, I had explained everything.

I explained why the Pho family survived.

I explained why certain projects needed support.

I explained why his company needed my connections.

I explained why his reputation existed because many people behind the scenes protected him.

But he never asked.

Because he believed everything happened because of his own ability.

I deleted the recording.

Then I received another message.

This time from Tong Khinh Khinh.

“Sister-in-law, did you really sell your shares?”

I looked at the screen.

She continued.

“Han Chau is very angry.”

A few seconds later:

“You shouldn’t destroy everything just because of a misunderstanding.”

A misunderstanding.

I smiled.

That was the word people used when they wanted someone else to accept humiliation quietly.

I replied with only one sentence.

“Then let him rebuild everything without me.”

I blocked her.

The next morning, the financial news changed.

Pho Thi Group’s stock continued falling.

Several major partners requested explanations.

The projects that depended on my family’s investment network were suspended.

For outsiders, it looked sudden.

For me, it was simply the result of removing the support that had always been there.

At noon, my father called.

“Tri Y.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“I heard what happened.”

I remained silent.

He sighed.

“Are you sure?”

I looked out at the ocean.

The same ocean I had once planned to visit with Han Chau.

“Yes.”

A pause.

“Not because of anger?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

I thought about the airplane.

The scarf.

The way Han Chau defended another woman on our anniversary.

“Because I finally remembered who I was before becoming Mrs. Pho.”

My father was quiet.

Then he said:

“Good.”

That was all.

Because my family understood something the Pho family never did.

A person can love someone and still know when to leave.

Three days later, Han Chau appeared at my villa.

The security team informed me.

“Miss, Mr. Pho is outside.”

I didn’t look surprised.

“Let him in.”

A few minutes later, he walked into the living room.

He looked different.

Not because his clothes changed.

Because his confidence was gone.

The man who once stood beside me believing he owned the world now looked like someone searching for something he had lost.

“Tri Y.”

I continued drinking tea.

“Deputy General Director Pho.”

His expression tightened.

“You really want to talk to me like this?”

I looked at him.

“How should I talk to you?”

He had no answer.

Then he sat down.

“About the company…”

“No.”

I interrupted.

“About your company?”

His eyes changed.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes.”

I placed the cup down.

“The company you built after my family saved it.”

His jaw tightened.

“I worked hard.”

“I know.”

My voice remained calm.

“I never denied that.”

That surprised him.

Because he expected me to attack his ability.

But I didn’t need to.

The truth was enough.

“You are talented, Han Chau.”

I looked at him.

“But talent without support does not create miracles.”

Silence.

Then he said:

“Khinh Khinh was nothing.”

I looked at him.

That sentence made me smile.

“Nothing?”

“Yes.”

“She was just an employee.”

“Then why did you bring her on our anniversary?”

He lowered his eyes.

I continued.

“Why did you let her wear something that belonged to me?”

His expression changed.

Because he remembered.

The scarf.

The one I had waited months to obtain.

The one he knew mattered to me.

“I didn’t think—”

“No.”

I interrupted softly.

“That is exactly the problem.”

“You didn’t think.”

For three years, he had made decisions without considering how they affected me.

Now he finally understood the feeling.

“Tri Y, can we fix this?”

I looked at him.

The old me would have cried.

The old me would have asked if he still loved me.

The old me would have given him another chance.

But that woman left on the airplane stairs.

“I don’t know.”

His face changed.

“Don’t know?”

“Yes.”

I stood up.

“Because the person who needs to decide now is not the woman who loved you.”

“It’s the woman who finally learned to respect herself.”

Before he could answer, my assistant walked in.

“Miss Tham.”

“Yes?”

“The lawyer sent the finalized divorce documents.”

Han Chau froze.

The word divorce finally became real.

Not a threat.

Not anger.

Reality.

He looked at me.

“Tri Y.”

I didn’t answer.

Because at that moment, his phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

His face slowly turned pale.

“What happened?”

He answered.

A few seconds later, his expression collapsed.

“Impossible.”

I watched him quietly.

After hanging up, he looked at me.

“The board…”

“What about them?”

“They want me to step down temporarily.”

Silence.

“And the person replacing me?”

He swallowed.

“Your father’s representative.”

I nodded.

Because this was the part Han Chau never understood.

I never destroyed him.

I simply stopped protecting him.

And without my protection…

the world finally saw what remained.

read the entire Part 3 below.