I looked at Luc Canh Hoai and smiled.

—Anywhere is fine.

He chose an expensive restaurant by the river.

During dinner, his phone lit up seven times.

Every time, the same name appeared.

Chu Nhuoc Han.

Principal Chu’s daughter.

Canh Hoai turned the phone face down.

—Why aren’t you answering? —I asked.

—Hospital matters.

I nodded.

—Then answer. Maybe it’s important.

—Nothing is more important than you tonight.

If I hadn’t seen that engagement guest list, those words might have made me happy for an entire week.

Now they only sounded absurd.

Halfway through dinner, he reached across the table.

—Nam Chi, after this month, I may become busier.

—Why?

He hesitated.

—The hospital is restructuring several departments.

Another lie.

His engagement ceremony was scheduled for six days later.

I already knew.

—Then congratulations in advance.

He smiled.

—For what?

—For whatever is coming.

He didn’t understand.

I didn’t explain.

For the next five days, I quietly removed myself from the life we’d shared.

My books disappeared from the study.

My clothes disappeared from the wardrobe.

Documents, photographs, gifts.

Everything that belonged to me went into boxes.

Canh Hoai barely noticed.

He was too busy preparing to become another woman’s fiancé.

On the sixth evening, I left my key on the table.

Beside it was one sentence:

“We’re done.”

Then I checked into a hotel.

He called seventeen times.

I answered none.

The next morning was the engagement ceremony.

Principal Chu had chosen the hospital’s grand conference hall because half the guests belonged to the medical community.

Department heads.

Senior surgeons.

Hospital executives.

Representatives from pharmaceutical companies and medical foundations.

I hadn’t planned to attend.

Then my father called.

—Nam Chi, are you still at Nhan An?

—Until today.

—Good. The Tham Medical Foundation’s delegation is visiting Nhan An this morning. Since you’ve accepted the family seal, you should receive them yourself.

I paused.

Of all days.

I almost laughed.

—All right.

At ten o’clock, three black cars stopped outside the hospital.

The hospital director personally came downstairs.

Behind him stood Principal Chu.

And beside Principal Chu…

Luc Canh Hoai.

Chu Nhuoc Han held his arm.

She was wearing an elegant white dress and an engagement ring.

When Canh Hoai saw me stepping from the first car, his expression changed.

I wasn’t wearing my old white coat.

I wore a simple dark suit.

My father’s assistant walked beside me.

Behind us came executives from the Tham Medical Foundation.

The director hurried forward.

—Miss Tham, welcome to Nhan An Hospital.

The entrance went silent.

Canh Hoai stared at me.

—Miss… Tham?

My former colleagues looked equally stunned.

Someone whispered:

—Nam Chi?

Another answered:

—Wait. Tham Nam Chi?

The director turned toward them.

—You know Miss Tham?

Nobody answered.

I did.

—I worked here for several years.

Principal Chu looked shocked.

—Worked here?

My father’s assistant smiled politely.

—Miss Tham entered clinical practice under her own arrangements. Chairman Tham respected her wish to remain independent.

Then he added:

—She has now formally returned as the Tham family’s designated heir.

The silence became absolute.

One colleague who had joked that I was “going home to inherit the family fortune” covered her mouth.

She looked as though she might faint.

I smiled at her.

—See? I told you.

A few people laughed nervously.

Canh Hoai didn’t.

He stepped toward me.

—Nam Chi, what is this?

I looked at Chu Nhuoc Han holding his arm.

—Your engagement, apparently.

His face turned pale.

—You knew?

—Six days ago.

Nhuoc Han slowly released his arm.

—Canh Hoai, what does she mean?

He didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

Principal Chu’s expression hardened.

—Explain.

Canh Hoai looked only at me.

—Why didn’t you ask me?

I almost couldn’t believe it.

—Ask what?

—About the engagement.

—Would the bride’s name have changed if I asked?

Silence.

—Would the groom’s?

He had nothing to say.

Nhuoc Han stared at him.

—You told me you ended your previous relationship months ago.

My last remaining doubt disappeared.

He hadn’t merely hidden an arranged engagement from me.

He had hidden me from her too.

Canh Hoai finally spoke.

—My family arranged this. I was going to resolve it.

—When?

I asked quietly.

—After becoming engaged?

His jaw tightened.

—Nam Chi, give me some time.

I smiled.

—I gave you five years.

Then I walked past him.

The Tham delegation hadn’t come to discuss my relationship.

They were there for business.

Nhan An Hospital wanted funding for a new surgical research center, advanced equipment and a joint clinical training program.

Ironically, Luc Canh Hoai’s department was one of the proposed beneficiaries.

During the meeting, I behaved professionally.

I didn’t cancel anything because of him.

I didn’t demand his dismissal.

I didn’t use my family to punish his career.

When the proposal reached the surgical department, I asked exactly the questions I would have asked anywhere else.

Budget.

Research objectives.

Patient benefit.

Governance.

Accountability.

Canh Hoai sat across from me.

For the first time in five years, he had to speak to me not as his girlfriend or subordinate…

but as the representative whose approval his project required.

His presentation was good.

I approved further evaluation.

Afterward, he caught me outside the conference room.

—Why?

—Why what?

—Why didn’t you reject my project?

I looked at him.

—Because you’re a good surgeon.

He froze.

—Your betrayal doesn’t erase your professional ability.

I paused.

—And my heartbreak doesn’t give me the right to misuse my family’s power.

Something complicated appeared in his eyes.

Perhaps that was the moment he finally understood the difference between us.

He had hidden the truth because protecting his future mattered more than protecting me.

I had every opportunity to damage his future…

and chose not to.

—Nam Chi.

He reached toward me, then stopped himself.

—Can we start again?

—No.

—Because of Nhuoc Han?

—Because of you.

His face tightened.

—I never loved her.

—That doesn’t make it better.

I looked directly at him.

—You were willing to marry a woman you didn’t love while keeping another woman who trusted you waiting at home.

He couldn’t answer.

The engagement ceremony never happened.

Not because I stopped it.

Chu Nhuoc Han did.

After learning the truth, she removed her ring herself.

She found me before leaving.

—I didn’t know about you.

—I believe you.

She looked surprised.

—You don’t hate me?

—Why would I?

For several seconds she said nothing.

Then she smiled bitterly.

—Apparently both of us almost married the wrong man.

That was the only conversation we ever needed.

A month later, I returned to Beijing.

My office really had been kept exactly as my parents promised.

But I didn’t abandon medicine.

Instead, I joined the Tham family’s medical investment division and eventually created a program supporting young doctors and clinical research teams.

Nhan An became one of our partner hospitals.

Canh Hoai remained there.

He never lost his position because of me.

Years later, he became one of the hospital’s most respected surgeons.

And perhaps losing both women forced him to become more honest too.

Three years after I left, we met at a medical conference in Beijing.

He stood before me for a long moment.

—Director Tham.

I smiled.

—Director Luc.

He laughed quietly.

—You used to call me Canh Hoai.

—That was a different life.

He nodded.

Then he said:

—I heard your program funded twelve young surgeons last year.

—Fourteen.

—Still competitive.

—Always.

His smile faded.

—Nam Chi, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for three years.

I waited.

—I’m sorry.

No excuses followed.

No mention of family pressure.

No attempt to blame Nhuoc Han.

Just two words.

I nodded.

—I accept your apology.

His eyes brightened slightly.

—Does that mean—

—No.

I smiled.

—An apology can be accepted without reopening a relationship.

He understood.

Before leaving, he asked one final question.

—If I’d known who you really were, do you think everything would have been different?

I looked at him.

That question told me he still hadn’t completely understood.

—If knowing I was the Tham family’s daughter was necessary for you to value me…

I shook my head.

—Then you never valued the right person.

He stood motionless.

I walked away.

The day Luc Canh Hoai became engaged, everyone at Nhan An finally learned that the ordinary doctor they had dismissed as a poor girl from a small district was the only daughter and heir of the Tham family.

But that wasn’t my victory.

My surname wasn’t what made me worthy.

My family’s money wasn’t what made his betrayal wrong.

Even if I had truly been an ordinary doctor with no inheritance, no foundation and no powerful father…

I still would have deserved honesty.

For five years, I hid my identity because I wanted to know whether someone could love Nam Chi without loving the Tham name.

In the end, Luc Canh Hoai gave me the answer himself.

So I returned the key to our home.

Took back my own name.

And walked into the future without him.

Not because I had suddenly become the Tham family’s precious heiress.

But because I finally remembered that I had always been precious, even when nobody at Nhan An knew who my father was.