The apartment had been empty for two years.

When Trinh Vi opened the door, dust floated in the sunlight.

There was no expensive furniture.

No servants.

No traces of Quy Lam Uyen.

I stood in the middle of the living room and suddenly felt that I could breathe.

Trinh Vi put my suitcase down.

“Stay here. I’ll buy everything you need.”

I shook my head.

“First, take me somewhere.”

“Where?”

“To see a lawyer.”

She stared at me.

“You just left the hospital.”

“I know.”

“You should rest.”

“I’ve rested for half a month.”

I looked at the sunlight outside.

“Now I want my life back.”

Two hours later, I sat across from attorney Tran Minh.

He was in his forties, expressionless, with a reputation for handling difficult divorces among wealthy families.

He opened a notebook.

“What do you want?”

“Divorce.”

“Property?”

“What belongs to me.”

“Compensation?”

I paused.

“Yes.”

His pen stopped.

“Evidence?”

I placed my phone on the desk.

Photos of my knees after forty-eight hours in the rain.

Hospital records.

Pregnancy examinations.

The miscarriage diagnosis.

Messages from household staff.

And finally—

a security recording.

Quy Lam Uyen standing beneath the covered entrance while I knelt outside in the rain.

His voice was perfectly clear.

“Until Ngoc Kien forgives you, don’t get up.”

Attorney Tran watched the clip once.

Then again.

His expression changed.

“Keep the original.”

“I have three backups.”

For the first time, Trinh Vi smiled.

The lawyer asked:

“Does your husband know you have this?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He closed the folder.

“I’ll prepare everything.”

I nodded.

“One more condition.”

“What?”

“I don’t want the papers delivered yet.”

Trinh Vi frowned.

“Hy Hoa?”

I looked at the wedding ring still on my finger.

Then slowly removed it.

“Quy Lam Uyen thinks I can’t live without him.”

I placed the ring on the table.

“Let him believe that a little longer.”

For the next ten days, I disappeared from his life.

I changed my phone number.

Transferred my personal belongings from the Quy villa while he was at work.

Moved my private accounts.

Resigned from the honorary positions attached to the Quy family.

Then I returned to something everyone had forgotten I possessed.

My own career.

Before marrying Quy Lam Uyen, I had worked in my father’s investment company.

I had stopped because Lam Uyen disliked his wife “showing her face in business circles.”

I used to think giving something up for marriage was romantic.

Now I reopened my office.

On the eleventh morning, Quy Lam Uyen finally noticed.

He called Trinh Vi.

She put the phone on speaker.

“Where is Hy Hoa?”

His voice was irritated.

Not worried.

I shook my head at her.

Trinh Vi replied:

“Why are you asking me?”

“She isn’t at the hospital.”

“So?”

A pause.

“She didn’t return home either.”

Trinh Vi smiled coldly.

“Which home?”

His voice hardened.

“Tell her to stop making trouble and come back.”

I almost laughed.

Even now.

Even after our child was gone.

He thought I was throwing a tantrum.

Then a woman’s voice sounded faintly behind him.

“Lam Uyen, forget it. If Miss Luc needs time, let her calm down.”

To Ngoc Kien.

Trinh Vi looked at me.

I simply ended the call.

That afternoon, my former mother-in-law contacted me.

I ignored her.

Then my father-in-law called.

That one I answered.

“Dad.”

Quy Ba Nien was silent for several seconds.

“You’re really leaving him?”

“Yes.”

“Have you decided?”

“Yes.”

He sighed.

“I understand.”

No persuasion.

No excuses for his son.

That almost made me cry.

Then he said:

“Hy Hoa, the card I gave you wasn’t compensation.”

“I know.”

“Keep it anyway.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

His voice became firm.

“Consider it money I saved for my grandchild.”

My throat tightened.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

Finally, he said:

“And do whatever you need to do.”

I closed my eyes.

“Even if it hurts Lam Uyen?”

“My son needs to learn that some mistakes aren’t repaired by saying sorry.”

I almost laughed.

“Dad, he hasn’t even said sorry.”

The line went silent.

Three days later, Quy Group held its annual charity banquet.

Everyone important in the city attended.

Investors.

Media.

Business families.

I hadn’t planned to go.

Then my father called.

“Hy Hoa, the Luc family has a seat.”

“I know.”

“Are you coming?”

I looked at myself in the mirror.

For two years, I had attended those events as Mrs. Quy.

That night, I chose a black dress.

No wedding ring.

“I’ll come.”

The moment I entered the ballroom, conversations stopped.

People stared.

Then whispers spread.

Wasn’t she hospitalized?

Where was Quy Lam Uyen?

Why wasn’t she wearing her ring?

And then I saw him.

Lam Uyen stood near the center of the hall.

To Ngoc Kien was beside him.

She wore white.

Of course she did.

His eyes landed on me.

For the first time since the hospital, something cracked in his expression.

He immediately walked over.

“Where have you been?”

No greeting.

No concern.

Just interrogation.

I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Working.”

“You left the hospital without telling me.”

“You never came.”

His jaw tightened.

“Don’t play word games.”

Ngoc Kien approached.

“Miss Luc.”

She gave me that fragile smile I’d seen countless times.

“I’m sorry about the baby.”

My hand stopped.

She continued softly:

“If I had known things would become so serious, I would never have allowed Lam Uyen to punish you.”

Allowed.

Interesting word.

I looked at her.

“You knew I was pregnant.”

Her smile faltered.

“I…”

“You came outside on the first night.”

Her face changed.

Lam Uyen immediately stepped between us.

“Enough.”

I looked at him.

“Did I lie?”

“She already feels guilty.”

I laughed.

Of course.

Ngoc Kien’s guilt mattered.

My dead child didn’t.

Then Lam Uyen lowered his voice.

“Go home. We’ll discuss this privately.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I didn’t come here for you.”

Before he could respond, the host stepped onto the stage.

He announced a new investment partnership.

Luc Capital.

My family’s company.

And tonight, I was representing it.

When my name was announced, applause filled the ballroom.

Lam Uyen stared at me.

“You went back to Luc Capital?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you discuss it with me?”

I smiled.

“Because you’re no longer involved in my decisions.”

Something finally shifted in his eyes.

Fear.

Small.

But unmistakable.

I walked onto the stage.

After the presentation, Attorney Tran entered the ballroom.

He walked directly toward us.

Quy Lam Uyen frowned.

“Who are you?”

Tran Minh handed him an envelope.

“Mr. Quy, you’ve been served.”

The entire group around us went silent.

Lam Uyen opened it.

His face changed line by line.

Then he looked at me.

“Divorce?”

“Yes.”

“You’re divorcing me?”

“Yes.”

His disbelief was almost insulting.

Ngoc Kien stood completely still.

Lam Uyen grabbed my wrist.

“You lost one child and now you’re destroying our marriage over it?”

The room became silent enough to hear breathing.

I stared at him.

He had said it publicly.

Perfect.

I pulled my hand free.

“Our child didn’t simply disappear.”

My voice was calm.

“You forced your pregnant wife to kneel in the rain for two days.”

His face darkened.

“You provoked Ngoc Kien first!”

“And that deserved killing my child?”

“I didn’t know—”

“You knew I was pregnant.”

Silence.

Everyone heard it.

Ngoc Kien tugged his sleeve.

“Lam Uyen, let’s leave.”

But Attorney Tran spoke.

“There’s one more matter.”

Lam Uyen turned.

My lawyer placed a second document on the table.

“We’re requesting preservation of all security footage, staff records, medical records and communications connected to the incident.”

Ngoc Kien’s face suddenly went white.

Too white.

I noticed.

So did Trinh Vi.

Lam Uyen didn’t.

He was still staring at the divorce papers.

Then Ngoc Kien whispered:

“Security footage?”

I turned toward her.

“Why are you afraid?”

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

I smiled.

“Then you’ll have no problem with us reviewing everything.”

She stepped backward.

Her glass slipped from her hand.

It shattered.

Everyone turned.

Ngoc Kien’s lips trembled.

And suddenly I remembered something.

The second night.

I had been barely conscious from fever.

Someone had come outside.

Not Lam Uyen.

A woman.

She had crouched beneath an umbrella and whispered beside my ear:

“You should have left when you had the chance.”

At the time, I thought I was hallucinating.

Now I looked at Ngoc Kien.

The same perfume.

The same voice.

My blood went cold.

Attorney Tran leaned toward me.

“There’s something else you need to know.”

“What?”

“The villa’s security company recovered footage from that second night.”

Ngoc Kien turned toward the exit.

Too late.

Two members of hotel security were already near the doors.

My lawyer lowered his voice.

“Your husband ordered you to kneel.”

I waited.

“But according to the recording, at 2:13 in the morning, someone entered the courtyard while you were unconscious.”

My heartbeat became deafening.

“Who?”

He looked directly at To Ngoc Kien.

“She removed the blanket one of the maids had secretly placed over you.”

I stopped breathing.

“And then,” he continued, “she poured a bucket of cold water over your body.”

Quy Lam Uyen slowly turned toward the woman he had protected at the cost of his own child.

For the first time, Ngoc Kien looked genuinely terrified.

And for the first time since I had known him—

Quy Lam Uyen looked at her as though he no longer recognized the woman he loved.