Lam Van looked at him without answering.
Luc Canh Sam took one step closer.
—If you’re not pregnant, why were you protecting your stomach yesterday?
—Habit.
—What habit?
—The habit of protecting myself whenever you’re nearby.
His expression hardened.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Luc Canh Sam suddenly reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Lam Van’s eyes changed the moment she saw the hospital logo.
He noticed.
And smiled coldly.
—Still going to tell me you’re not pregnant?
Her fingers tightened around the door frame.
—Where did you get that?
—Yesterday, after you left, I went back upstairs.
He unfolded the paper.
It wasn’t her full medical record.
Only the appointment registration slip she had accidentally dropped near the ultrasound department.
But there was one line clearly printed across it:
Obstetrics — Pregnancy Follow-up.
Lam Van stared at him.
Luc Canh Sam’s voice became quieter.
—You lied to me.
She laughed.
—Interesting coming from you.
His jaw tightened.
—How many months?
—None of your business.
—How many months, Lam Van?
She looked directly into his eyes.
—Why are you so desperate to know?
He didn’t answer.
That silence irritated her more than shouting would have.
—You brought another woman to the hospital yesterday and introduced her as your girlfriend. Two months after our divorce, you looked perfectly comfortable humiliating me in public.
She pointed at the hallway.
—So take your girlfriend and leave.
Luc Canh Sam’s face changed slightly.
—She isn’t my girlfriend.
Lam Van paused.
Then laughed.
—You literally introduced her that way.
—I was trying to make you angry.
That answer was so absurd that she stared at him for several seconds.
—Congratulations. You succeeded.
—She is the daughter of one of my father’s business partners. I brought her for a checkup because her brother couldn’t come.
—And naturally she had to hold your arm?
Luc Canh Sam looked away.
Lam Van shook her head.
—You haven’t changed at all.
She started closing the door.
His hand stopped it.
—The child is mine, isn’t it?
Her expression froze.
He continued.
—We’ve been divorced for a little over two months.
His eyes fell toward her stomach.
—Yesterday you came out of obstetrics. If you’re more than three months pregnant…
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
Lam Van’s face became cold.
—Move your hand.
—Answer me first.
—No.
—Lam Van.
—You lost the right to ask questions the day you threw divorce papers at me.
That finally made something crack in his expression.
For the first time, the arrogance disappeared.
—Were you already pregnant that day?
She looked at him.
And for one dangerous second, she almost told the truth.
She almost pictured that night again.
The ultrasound paper hidden inside her handbag.
Her plan to tell him after dinner.
The tiny pair of baby socks she’d bought on the way home.
And then Luc Canh Sam had arrived furious because his mother had accused Lam Van of causing problems at a family dinner.
He hadn’t listened.
Hadn’t asked.
Had simply thrown the papers onto the table.
“Sign.”
She had stared at him.
“What happened?”
“I’m tired of you.”
She had touched the bag containing the ultrasound.
“Canh Sam, I have something important to tell you.”
“I don’t care.”
Four words.
That was all it took.
The baby socks stayed inside the bag.
The ultrasound stayed hidden.
And she signed.
Lam Van returned to the present.
—Whether I was pregnant or not changes nothing.
Luc Canh Sam went silent.
Then he asked:
—If you knew, why didn’t you tell me?
She smiled, but her eyes were red.
—I tried.
His face stiffened.
—What?
—That night.
She spoke slowly.
—Before I signed.
—I told you I had something important to say.
Luc Canh Sam’s pupils contracted.
She continued.
—Do you remember what you answered?
He didn’t.
But his expression said he was trying desperately to.
Lam Van answered for him.
—“I don’t care.”
The hallway became completely quiet.
Even the neighbor across the hall had stopped pretending not to listen.
Luc Canh Sam lowered his hand from the door.
—Lam Van…
—No.
Her voice trembled slightly now.
—You don’t get to stand here three months later and suddenly act like you care because there might be a child carrying your blood.
He swallowed.
—If the baby is mine, I have responsibilities.
—Responsibilities?
She laughed bitterly.
—You couldn’t even manage basic respect for the baby’s mother.
Luc Canh Sam’s face turned pale.
She pushed the door further closed.
But just before it shut, he said:
—My father is in the hospital.
Lam Van stopped.
She didn’t open the door wider.
—What does that have to do with me?
—He collapsed last night.
Her fingers tightened.
Despite everything, Chairman Luc had always treated her kindly.
He had been the one person in the Luc family who defended her during the marriage.
Luc Canh Sam continued:
—When he woke up this morning, the first thing he asked was whether I had found you.
Lam Van frowned.
—Why?
Luc Canh Sam hesitated.
Then pulled another document from inside his coat.
—Because three days before our divorce, my father changed his will.
She stared at the envelope.
—And?
His next words made her blood run cold.
—He left thirty percent of the Luc Group shares to your child.
Lam Van’s face changed completely.
Luc Canh Sam watched her carefully.
—Not to me.
—Not to you.
—To the first child born from our marriage.
She slowly stepped backward.
—That’s impossible.
—I thought so too.
He handed her the document.
She didn’t take it.
—My father knew?
Luc Canh Sam’s voice dropped.
—That’s exactly what I want to know.
Lam Van stared at him.
Then at the sealed envelope in his hand.
A terrible possibility entered her mind.
If Chairman Luc had changed his will before the divorce…
Someone must have told him she was pregnant.
But only three people had known.
Lam Van.
Her doctor.
And the one person she had called in tears after leaving the clinic.
Luc Canh Sam seemed to reach the same conclusion.
—Who knew about the baby before we divorced?
Lam Van’s face slowly lost its color.
Because the person she had trusted with that secret…
was Luc Canh Sam’s mother.
