“Mommy, is that man trying to kidnap us?”

An asked in English, his little face completely serious.

The airport suddenly fell silent.

Truong Hang’s expression stiffened.

I almost laughed.

“Don’t worry,” I answered calmly. “If anyone tries, Mommy will call the police.”

Then I looked directly at Truong Hang.

He understood the warning.

Before he could respond, Uc tugged at my sleeve.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

“Then we’re leaving.”

I took both children’s hands and walked forward.

This time, the bodyguards didn’t move.

Because several passengers had already taken out their phones.

Truong Hang clearly didn’t want a video of Co Tram Chu’s men surrounding a woman and two children spreading online.

But when we reached the parking area, a row of black cars was already waiting.

The door of the middle car opened.

A tall man stepped out.

My feet stopped.

Six years.

Yet I recognized him immediately.

Co Tram Chu.

He wore a black coat, his expression colder than I remembered.

His eyes passed over me only once.

Then they landed on the twins.

For the first time, the legendary President Co lost his composure.

Because Lam An looked almost exactly like him.

The same eyes.

The same straight nose.

Even the tiny frown between his eyebrows was painfully familiar.

Tram Chu walked toward us.

I instinctively pulled the children behind me.

“Stay there.”

He stopped.

His gaze finally moved to my face.

“Six years, Lam Ninh.”

My heart tightened at the sound of my name from his mouth.

“You seem disappointed that I survived.”

His jaw hardened.

“I searched for you.”

I laughed.

“That’s a strange way to describe forcing every company in Van Thanh to reject me.”

His expression changed.

“What?”

I didn’t answer.

There was no point reopening old wounds in an airport parking lot.

I turned away.

Then he said:

“How old are they?”

My hand froze around the suitcase handle.

“None of your business.”

“Five?”

Silence.

“Or six?”

I turned back.

“Co Tram Chu, don’t test my patience.”

He stared at An.

The boy stared right back.

Neither blinked.

Then An suddenly asked in English:

“Mommy, why does this uncle look like me?”

Every adult around us froze.

Uc immediately leaned sideways to study Tram Chu.

Then her eyes widened.

“He really does!”

I wanted the ground to swallow me.

Tram Chu slowly looked at me.

This time, there was no coldness in his eyes.

Only realization.

“Lam Ninh.”

His voice dropped.

“Explain.”

“There is nothing to explain.”

I pulled out my phone.

“My driver is arriving.”

“You gave birth after our divorce.”

“Yes.”

“To twins.”

“Yes.”

“And you never told me.”

I looked him straight in the eyes.

“Why would I tell my ex-husband about my children?”

Something dangerous flashed across his face.

“Our children.”

I smiled coldly.

“You’re assuming too much.”

He stepped closer.

“Then let me confirm it.”

“No.”

“DNA test.”

“No.”

His voice hardened.

“You think you can refuse forever?”

I took one step toward him.

“I spent six years becoming someone you can no longer order around.”

I pointed toward the cameras around us.

“Try taking my children by force.”

“Let’s see whether even President Co can control the headlines tomorrow.”

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Then, unexpectedly, he stepped aside.

“Let them go.”

Truong Hang stared at him.

“Boss—”

“I said let them go.”

The cars moved.

A path opened.

I didn’t hesitate.

I took my children and left.

But just before getting into my car, Tram Chu called my name.

I turned.

He stood beneath the airport lights, watching An and Uc.

“I’ll find out the truth.”

I smiled.

“Then prepare yourself for what else you might find.”

That night, after putting the twins to sleep, I opened my laptop.

There were seventeen missed calls from unknown numbers.

Three interview requests.

And one email from my lawyer.

Someone had already requested access to the twins’ birth records.

Applicant:

Co Tram Chu.

I wasn’t surprised.

What surprised me was the second email.

It came from Harvard.

My former professor had forwarded an inquiry submitted that afternoon.

Someone wanted access to my medical records from six years ago.

Attached was the name of the person making the request.

I expected Tram Chu.

Instead, I saw a woman’s name.

The same woman who had destroyed my marriage.

His “white moonlight.”

My fingers slowly tightened around the mouse.

Why was she interested in the twins?

Then my phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

A photograph appeared.

It showed me six years ago, unconscious in a hospital bed shortly before I discovered my pregnancy.

Beside the bed stood that woman.

She was holding my medical report.

Under the photograph was one sentence:

“Dr. Lam, if you want to know why President Co never knew you were pregnant, ask who changed your medical records six years ago.”

I stared at the screen.

Then another message arrived.

“And if you think the divorce was really his decision, you still don’t know the worst part.”