Giang Uyen Thanh forced a smile.

—Miss Niem, why are you here? I thought you went to Vienna.

I looked at her wedding dress.

Then at the emerald necklace around her neck.

—My flight is tonight.

Her fingers unconsciously touched the necklace.

I smiled.

—I only came to retrieve something before leaving.

Her expression changed.

—What?

I pointed at her neck.

—That.

The hall fell silent.

Chu Ngoc Lan immediately stepped forward.

—Lam Niem, don’t cause trouble here!

—That necklace was a wedding gift from our Co family to Uyen Thanh.

I looked at her.

—Really?

I opened the kraft paper bag.

The first document was an inheritance certificate.

The emerald necklace had belonged to my mother.

After her death, it had been placed in trust until I turned twenty-five.

No one had the right to sell it.

No one had the right to gift it.

Yet three months earlier, it somehow appeared in the Co family’s jewelry collection.

Giang Uyen Thanh’s face turned pale.

Co Hoai Tham frowned.

—Mom?

Chu Ngoc Lan immediately said:

—I bought it legitimately.

I placed the second document on the table.

—Then perhaps you’d like to explain why the auction house says the ownership certificate you presented was forged.

The whispers around us became louder.

Giang Uyen Thanh grabbed the necklace.

—Hoai Tham, I didn’t know.

I nodded.

—Maybe.

—That’s why this isn’t the main gift.

Co Hoai Tham’s eyes narrowed.

—Lam Niem, what exactly do you want?

I looked at him.

—Nothing from you.

Then I took out a flash drive.

Tham Dien finally moved beside me.

He placed a tablet on the table.

—Perhaps the groom should hear this first.

A recording began to play.

Co Hoai Tham’s voice filled the ballroom.

Cold.

Clear.

Unmistakable.

“Break Lam Niem’s legs.”

“So she can only use a wheelchair for the rest of her life.”

The wedding hall exploded.

Co Hoai Tham’s face became gray.

Chu Ngoc Lan screamed:

—Turn that off!

Tham Dien calmly lowered the volume after the sentence ended.

I looked at Co Hoai Tham.

—Assistant Trieu didn’t carry out your order.

His pupils contracted.

—He recorded it.

Trieu Loi appeared near the entrance.

Behind him stood two lawyers and representatives from the organizing committee of the International Young Pianists Competition.

Co Hoai Tham finally understood.

—You betrayed me?

Trieu Loi lowered his head.

—Mr. Co, I work for you.

—That doesn’t mean I will commit a crime for you.

Nobody spoke.

I continued:

—Do you remember why you wanted my legs broken?

Co Hoai Tham’s jaw tightened.

Giang Uyen Thanh suddenly shouted:

—Because you kept bothering us!

I turned toward her.

—No.

Then I removed the last folder.

Original sheet music.

Creation records.

Email timestamps.

Notarized copyright registration.

I placed them one by one on the signing table.

—Because three days before the competition, I discovered that the piece Giang Uyen Thanh planned to perform in the final round was mine.

Giang Uyen Thanh’s face lost all color.

The guests began whispering again.

I continued:

—I wrote “Winter River” four years ago.

—Only three people ever had the complete manuscript.

—My teacher.

—Me.

I looked at Co Hoai Tham.

—And you.

He said nothing.

That silence answered everything.

Giang Uyen Thanh shook her head desperately.

—He gave it to me!

Every eye turned toward Co Hoai Tham.

She realized too late what she had admitted.

He stared at her.

—Uyen Thanh.

But panic had already destroyed her caution.

—You said Lam Niem had abandoned music!

—You said no one would care!

—You told me that once she withdrew, I could use it!

The hall went completely silent.

I almost felt sorry for them.

Almost.

The competition representative stepped forward.

—Miss Giang, based on the materials we received this morning, your eligibility has been suspended pending formal review.

Her lips trembled.

—No.

—Today’s award announcement has also been canceled.

She looked at me with hatred.

—You planned this.

—Yes.

I answered calmly.

—After you stole my work and your fiancé discussed permanently disabling me, I decided documentation was preferable to arguing.

Co Hoai Tham suddenly stepped toward me.

—Lam Niem, come outside.

Tham Dien stood up.

He didn’t touch him.

He simply stepped between us.

That was enough.

Co Hoai Tham stopped.

Tham Dien’s expression remained almost lazy.

—Mr. Co, considering the recording we just heard, I suggest keeping a respectful distance.

Then he finally revealed why he had helped me enter.

Tham Dien was one of the principal sponsors of the Vienna music fellowship.

My application had reached his foundation months earlier.

He had read the plagiarism report.

And once Trieu Loi contacted the foundation with evidence of the threat, Tham Dien arranged legal protection and insisted that everything be handled publicly and properly.

He hadn’t come to rescue me.

He had come as a witness.

Exactly as he promised.

To watch the play.

The wedding never happened.

Not that day.

The Giang family immediately suspended negotiations with the Co Group while lawyers investigated how much their daughter had known.

The competition opened a formal plagiarism review.

The necklace was returned through legal channels.

And Co Hoai Tham faced investigation over the recorded threat.

I did not stay to watch him lose everything.

At six that evening, I was already at the airport.

Co Hoai Tham arrived before security.

—Lam Niem!

I stopped.

He looked nothing like the arrogant man sitting behind his desk days earlier.

—You really intended to leave?

I almost laughed.

—Didn’t you want me gone?

His eyes reddened.

—I was angry.

—So you ordered someone to ruin my life.

He lowered his voice.

—I wouldn’t really have—

—Stop.

I looked at him.

—Don’t turn your failure to carry out cruelty into proof that you weren’t cruel.

He went silent.

Then he asked:

—Did you ever love me?

I smiled faintly.

—Enough to give you the only copy of “Winter River.”

His face crumpled.

That was the answer.

I walked through security without looking back.

Months later, I performed that composition in Vienna under my own name.

When the final note ended, the hall remained silent for one heartbeat.

Then everyone stood.

For years, Co Hoai Tham and Giang Uyen Thanh believed that if they took away my competition, my reputation and even my ability to stand on a stage, I would disappear.

Instead, I gave them exactly the wedding gift they deserved.

Not revenge.

Evidence.

They wanted me silenced because they believed no one would care what happened to an abandoned girl with nothing but a piano.

They were wrong.

Because when the truth finally played—

the entire room had no choice but to listen.