Tham Quyet did not move.

He looked at the cake in his hand, then at me.

“Miss To, I’m not here on Dat Than’s behalf.”

“That changes nothing.”

I started closing the door.

His next sentence stopped me.

“Your three children were born on October 18th five years ago, correct?”

My fingers tightened around the handle.

I looked at him coldly.

“You investigated children?”

His expression immediately became serious.

“I apologize. But the boy who bumped into me looks exactly like a Shen family child.”

“Coincidence.”

“Perhaps.”

He placed the cake beside the door instead of forcing it into my hands.

“Then I’ll leave.”

He walked away.

Before entering the elevator, he turned.

“One warning.”

“What?”

“Dat Than is currently negotiating to acquire the building you selected for Nian’s flagship store.”

My eyes narrowed.

“He doesn’t know you’re Nian yet.”

“Yet?”

Tham Quyet smiled faintly.

“Hai Thanh is small when billions are involved.”

Then the elevator doors closed.

I stood there for several seconds.

Behind me, Tu Tu An asked:

“Mami, was that bad Dad’s family?”

“Yes.”

Tu Tu Mac crossed his arms.

“They all look troublesome.”

I almost laughed.

“You’re seven years old.”

“Five and a half.”

“Even worse.”

The next morning, I went to inspect the commercial building.

Everything went smoothly until the elevator doors opened on the top floor.

Tham Dat Than was standing inside.

Five years.

He looked almost unchanged.

Black suit.

Cold eyes.

The same expression that once made me carefully measure every word before speaking.

But when he saw me, his face completely froze.

“To Niem?”

I smiled politely.

“President Shen.”

He stared at me as if I were a ghost.

“You came back?”

“For business.”

His eyes traveled over my clothes, my watch, the assistant standing behind me.

Confusion appeared.

“What business?”

My assistant answered before I could.

“Ms. To is the founder and chief designer of Nian.”

Dat Than’s expression changed again.

“Nian?”

“Yes.”

The fashion brand his company had spent six months trying to bring into Hai Thanh.

He looked at me for a long time.

Then laughed.

“You used the hundred million well.”

I smiled.

“Thank you for the startup capital.”

His face darkened.

Exactly then, three small voices came from behind me.

“Mami!”

The children had arrived with their nanny.

I closed my eyes.

Perfect timing.

Dat Than looked over my shoulder.

Then stopped breathing.

Tu Tu An froze.

Tu Tu Mac immediately pushed his sunglasses higher.

Tu Tu Ngu hid behind the nanny.

Dat Than stared at them.

One.

Two.

Three.

Three children approximately five years old.

Two boys whose faces resembled his childhood photographs almost perfectly.

And one little girl with my eyes.

His voice came out hoarse.

“To Niem.”

I knew what was coming.

“No.”

“How old are they?”

“None of your concern.”

His face drained of color.

“How old?”

Tu Tu Mac frowned.

“Why are you shouting at my mother?”

Dat Than’s knees almost seemed to weaken.

He looked at the boy.

“What is your name?”

“To Tu Mac.”

“And you?”

“To Tu An.”

His gaze moved toward my daughter.

“To Tu Ngu.”

The children all carried my surname.

Dat Than looked back at me.

“Five years?”

I said nothing.

He suddenly grabbed my wrist.

“Were you pregnant when we divorced?”

I pulled free.

“President Shen, control yourself.”

His breathing became uneven.

“You were.”

It wasn’t a question anymore.

Something in his memory had apparently surfaced.

The paper on the table.

The medical report beneath the divorce agreement.

The words he had never bothered to read.

His face turned white.

“That report…”

I smiled.

“You finally remember it?”

He stared at me.

“What did it say?”

“Pregnant with triplets.”

His entire body froze.

For several seconds, even the people around us stopped moving.

Then Dat Than whispered:

“My children?”

I laughed softly.

“No.”

His eyes snapped toward me.

“Biologically, perhaps.”

I stepped between him and the children.

“But fatherhood requires more than biology.”

His eyes reddened.

“You knew and still signed the divorce?”

“You gave me one hundred million and told me your first love needed an explanation.”

“I didn’t know!”

“That was your choice.”

His voice rose.

“You should have told me!”

I looked directly at him.

“The report was under your hand.”

Silence.

“You threw the divorce agreement on top of it.”

“You never asked why I had gone to the hospital.”

“You never asked why I looked pale.”

“You never asked why my hands were shaking.”

“You only asked how much money would make me disappear.”

Dat Than had no answer.

That afternoon, he canceled every meeting.

Then he found Lin Vi Vi.

By evening, the story spread through the Shen family.

Apparently, the “white moonlight” he had divorced me for had never actually married him.

Three months after our divorce, she left the country with another man.

Dat Than had spent five years alone.

I should have felt satisfied.

I didn’t.

His loneliness could not return my pregnancies.

Could not return five years of fevers, birthdays, school admissions, and nights when I held three crying babies alone.

The next day, he appeared at my hotel again.

This time Tham Quyet was already there discussing the flagship property.

Dat Than looked at his uncle.

“What are you doing here?”

Tham Quyet calmly drank tea.

“Business.”

“With her?”

“With Ms. To.”

Dat Than’s jaw tightened.

Then he looked at me.

“I want a paternity test.”

I nodded.

“Fine.”

He looked surprised.

I continued:

“And after that, my lawyer will discuss visitation.”

His face changed.

“Visitation?”

“Yes.”

“I’m their father.”

“You are a stranger who shares their DNA.”

The test came back at 99.99%.

Dat Than cried when he read it.

Not elegantly.

Not quietly.

He sat alone in the clinic hallway with three reports in his hands and covered his face.

I watched from a distance.

Five years earlier, I might have run toward him.

Now I simply waited.

Eventually, he stood.

“Can I meet them properly?”

“Yes.”

Hope appeared.

“With me?”

“No.”

His face fell.

“I mean the children.”

For the next year, Dat Than tried.

And surprisingly, he did not use money.

He attended school events.

Learned which child hated carrots.

Which one needed a nightlight.

Which one became silent when scared.

Tu Tu Ngu eventually called him Dad.

Tu Tu Mac took longer.

Tu Tu An took longest of all.

As for me, I opened Nian’s flagship store in the building Tham Quyet helped secure.

On opening day, Dat Than stood at the back with the children.

Afterward, he approached me.

“To Niem.”

“Yes?”

“If I had read that report…”

I stopped him.

“But you didn’t.”

His eyes reddened.

“I know.”

“That’s the point.”

He lowered his head.

Then asked quietly:

“Will you ever give me another chance?”

I looked at the man I had once loved enough to carry three children without telling him after he chose someone else.

“No.”

He closed his eyes.

I continued:

“You can become their father.”

“But you don’t get to become my husband again.”

Five years earlier, Tham Dat Than gave me one hundred million yuan because he thought money could cleanly remove me from his life.

Instead, that money helped me build a company, raise three children, and create a future that no longer required his permission.

And the prenatal report he never bothered to read taught him the most expensive lesson of his life:

Sometimes the thing you throw away without looking is the one thing money can never buy back.