Several directors exchanged uneasy glances.

One finally cleared his throat.

—Miss Giang, recovering all of Mr. Co’s shares isn’t something that can be decided emotionally.

Giang Niem Van opened another folder.

—I know.

She slid several documents across the table.

—That’s why I came prepared.

The shares Co Thua Huyen controlled had not originally belonged to him.

Seven years earlier, when the engagement was announced, Giang Niem Van had personally convinced her father to grant him management rights over part of the family’s holdings.

She had trusted him.

She had defended him when older directors questioned his ambition.

She had even transferred several investment projects into his supervision.

Now she wanted everything back.

Mr. Giang looked through the documents, his anger gradually replaced by surprise.

—When did you prepare this?

—Last night.

—You didn’t sleep?

Giang Niem Van smiled faintly.

—I slept enough for someone who just discovered seven years of her life were a lie.

At that moment, the conference-room doors suddenly opened.

Co Thua Huyen walked in.

Behind him was Lam Thi Thi.

Everyone became silent.

He was still wearing the suit prepared for their engagement ceremony.

—Niem Van.

His eyes immediately found her.

—We need to talk privately.

—There’s nothing private between us anymore.

His expression hardened.

—Don’t turn one mistake into a business matter.

Giang Niem Van almost laughed.

—One mistake?

She picked up another file.

—Seven years of hotel reservations.

—Private transfers.

—Apartments registered through subsidiaries.

—Jewelry.

—Vacations disguised as business trips.

With every sentence, Co Thua Huyen’s face became paler.

Lam Thi Thi suddenly spoke.

—Sister Niem Van, please don’t blame him. I was the one who couldn’t let go.

Giang Niem Van looked at her.

—You’re right about one thing.

Lam Thi Thi’s eyes brightened.

—Really?

—I’m not blaming him anymore.

Giang Niem Van closed the folder.

—I’m removing him.

Co Thua Huyen stepped forward.

—You can’t.

—Why not?

—Because three of Giang Group’s biggest projects are under my control.

There it was.

Not love.

Not regret.

His first real fear was losing power.

Giang Niem Van looked toward the screen behind her.

The company’s legal director immediately displayed three termination notices.

—Not anymore.

Co Thua Huyen froze.

His phone began vibrating.

Once.

Twice.

Then continuously.

Project managers.

Banks.

Partners.

Every call carried the same message.

His authority had been suspended.

For seven years, everyone believed Co Thua Huyen had helped Giang Group reach new heights.

What few knew was that Giang Niem Van had been the person behind several of the strategies he later presented publicly.

She had never cared who received the applause.

She had thought they were building a future together.

Now she simply stopped standing behind him.

—Niem Van.

His voice finally changed.

—Are you really destroying everything because of last night?

She stared at him.

—No.

—Last night only made me see clearly what had already been destroyed.

She removed the engagement ring from her finger and placed it on the conference table.

—We’re finished.

Lam Thi Thi immediately reached for Co Thua Huyen’s arm.

But unexpectedly, he pulled away.

Her face changed.

—Thua Huyen?

He didn’t look at her.

His eyes remained fixed on Giang Niem Van.

—What do you want me to do?

The question made her pause.

Seven years ago, she would have given anything to hear him ask that.

Now it meant nothing.

—Leave.

Two security officers entered.

Co Thua Huyen’s expression darkened.

But before he could speak, Mr. Giang slammed his palm against the table.

—You heard my daughter.

Co Thua Huyen finally left.

Lam Thi Thi hurried after him.

Outside the building, she tried to take his hand.

—Thua Huyen, it’s okay. We finally don’t have to hide anymore.

He stopped.

For the first time, he looked at her without tenderness.

—Did you deliberately let Niem Van find us last night?

Lam Thi Thi’s smile froze.

—What are you talking about?

—The bedroom door.

His voice became cold.

—I locked it.

She turned pale.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Giang Niem Van’s assistant entered the conference room.

—Miss Giang, there’s another problem.

She handed over a tablet.

—Someone leaked news that today’s engagement was canceled.

—Let them.

—That’s not all.

The assistant hesitated.

—They’re claiming Mr. Co abandoned you because Giang Group is facing financial trouble.

Mr. Giang immediately stood.

—Who released that?

—We’re tracing it.

Giang Niem Van remained strangely calm.

—Don’t suppress the story.

Her father frowned.

—Niem Van?

—If someone wants everyone watching us, let them watch.

She picked up her phone and dialed a number she hadn’t called in years.

The call connected almost immediately.

A man’s voice came through.

—Finally remembered me?

For the first time that morning, genuine warmth appeared in her eyes.

—Brother.

The entire boardroom went silent.

Everyone knew the Giang family had once had another heir.

But years earlier, he had left the country after a disagreement with his father and built his own investment company overseas.

Giang Niem Van continued:

—You once said that if I ever wanted to stop hiding behind other people, you’d save me a seat.

The man laughed.

—That seat has been waiting seven years.

She looked through the glass wall toward the city.

—Then I’m ready.

Three days later, instead of photographs from an engagement ceremony, business headlines carried another announcement.

Giang Niem Van had been appointed executive director of a newly consolidated division.

Several projects previously managed by Co Thua Huyen were transferred directly under her authority.

Only then did people begin realizing how much of Giang Group’s strategy had actually carried her fingerprints.

Co Thua Huyen saw the announcement alone.

He stared at her photograph for a long time.

Then his assistant rushed inside.

—Mr. Co, we found something.

He placed security footage from the villa on the desk.

The recording showed the hallway outside the bedroom on the night Giang Niem Van discovered them.

At 10:47 p.m., Lam Thi Thi appeared.

She looked directly toward the security camera.

Then she deliberately unlocked the bedroom door.

Three minutes later, she sent a message.

Not to Co Thua Huyen.

To Giang Niem Van.

“Thua Huyen drank too much tonight. Could you bring him some hangover soup?”

Co Thua Huyen’s face slowly changed.

He replayed the footage.

Once.

Twice.

Then he whispered:

—She planned it.

But the assistant didn’t move.

—There’s more.

He placed seven years of financial records on the desk.

Co Thua Huyen opened the first page.

His expression froze.

Someone had been secretly transferring money from projects under his management.

Every transaction pointed toward Lam Thi Thi.

And the final transfer had occurred only hours before Giang Niem Van opened that bedroom door.

Suddenly, what happened that night no longer looked like a simple betrayal.

It looked like the final step of a plan.

Co Thua Huyen grabbed his coat.

—Where is Thi Thi?

The assistant swallowed.

—She disappeared this morning.

—Find her.

—We tried.

He hesitated before adding:

—But before she vanished, she sent one package.

—To whom?

The assistant looked directly at him.

—Giang Niem Van.

At that exact moment, across the city, Giang Niem Van was sitting inside her new office when a black envelope was placed on her desk.

There was no sender.

Inside was an old photograph.

The moment she saw it, her fingers stopped.

The photograph had been taken seven years earlier.

Co Thua Huyen stood beside Lam Thi Thi.

But the third person in the picture was someone Giang Niem Van knew far better than either of them.

Someone who should never have been there.

On the back were only six handwritten words:

“Your engagement was never about love.”

Giang Niem Van slowly raised her eyes.

Because suddenly, she realized Co Thua Huyen’s betrayal might have begun long before the night she caught him.

And someone had been waiting seven years for her to discover why.