“Start over?”
I repeated my mother’s words softly.
She nodded.
“Tieu Van, you’re still young. You can’t let what happened five years ago decide the rest of your life.”
I smiled and adjusted her blanket.
“Mom, my life started over a long time ago.”
She looked surprised.
Before she could ask what I meant, someone knocked.
Lam Nhien entered carrying fruit.
Behind him stood Luc Canh Tham.
My brother immediately looked uncomfortable.
“Sister, I didn’t invite him.”
Canh Tham ignored the explanation.
“Tieu Van, I want to talk.”
“No.”
His expression stiffened.
“Five minutes.”
“We’ve been divorced for five years. What could possibly require five minutes?”
My mother sighed.
“Tieu Van, perhaps you should settle things properly.”
I looked at her tired face.
Then stood.
“Fine.”
Canh Tham followed me into the corridor.
The moment the door closed, he asked:
“Why didn’t you tell me you were returning?”
I almost laughed.
“Why would I?”
His jaw tightened.
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I really don’t.”
He stared at me for several seconds.
“You disappeared without looking back. I thought after you calmed down, you’d contact me.”
“Five years is a very long tantrum.”
He looked embarrassed.
“Tieu Van…”
I interrupted.
“You thought I’d eventually admit defeat.”
His silence answered for him.
“At the airport, when you saw me, you genuinely believed I’d returned because of you.”
His expression changed.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did.”
I wasn’t angry.
That seemed to unsettle him more.
I continued:
“I came back because my mother is ill. When she’s better, I’ll leave.”
His face immediately darkened.
“Leave again?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
“This is your home.”
I shook my head.
“No, Canh Tham. This is my hometown.”
Then I walked back into the hospital room.
Two days later, Mother’s condition suddenly worsened.
Her fever returned during the night.
The doctors recommended a specialized procedure, but the hospital’s most experienced team was attending an international conference.
I made one phone call.
“Daniel, I need help.”
The voice on the other end became serious.
“What happened?”
I explained.
Twenty minutes later, he called back.
“The team can return tomorrow morning. I’ve arranged everything through the foundation.”
“Thank you.”
“Tieu Van.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t thank me. Take care of your mother.”
The next morning, the hospital director personally came to Mother’s room.
Behind him were two specialists who had flown back early.
Lam Nhien stared at me.
“Sister… how did you arrange this?”
“Work connections.”
Before he could ask more, Luc Canh Tham appeared.
He had apparently heard about Mother’s condition.
When he saw the specialists, surprise crossed his face.
“The Hart Medical Foundation?”
I nodded.
“You know them?”
“Everyone in international investment knows them.”
His gaze sharpened.
“How do you?”
I didn’t answer.
Because it was none of his business.
Mother’s procedure went smoothly.
Only after the doctor confirmed that she was stable did I finally leave the hospital to attend the meeting I had postponed twice.
A black car waited downstairs.
The driver opened the door.
Canh Tham happened to be walking toward the entrance.
He stopped when he saw me.
“Tieu Van.”
I paused.
“Where are you going?”
“To work.”
He glanced at the car.
“Your work?”
“Yes.”
Something about his expression irritated me.
Perhaps because he still looked at me as though the woman standing before him should be the same woman who left five years ago with one suitcase and almost nothing else.
He didn’t know that those five years had changed everything.
The next morning, the Riverside Development Conference opened at the Grand International Hotel.
It was one of the city’s largest redevelopment projects in a decade.
Construction firms, investors and design groups filled the ballroom.
I arrived ten minutes before the presentation.
The moment I entered, I saw Luc Canh Tham.
He stood beside several executives.
His company logo was displayed among the construction bidders.
Our eyes met.
He frowned.
Then walked toward me.
“Tieu Van?”
I removed my sunglasses.
“What are you doing here?”
“Working.”
His eyes moved over my suit and conference badge.
Before he could read it, a group of foreign executives approached.
“Ms. Lam.”
Their director shook my hand.
“We’ve been waiting for you.”
Canh Tham froze.
The conference chairman stepped onto the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the founder and managing director of Lam Atelier International, the lead strategic design partner for the Riverside Development Project…”
My photograph appeared on the enormous screen.
“Ms. Lam Tieu Van.”
Applause filled the hall.
I walked onto the stage.
From where I stood, I could see Canh Tham staring at me.
Five years ago, when I left, my small design company had only four employees.
Now we had offices in London, Singapore and Paris.
More importantly, the Riverside project would determine which construction firms received contracts over the next several years.
Canh Tham’s company was one of the bidders.
When my presentation ended, he was waiting outside.
“You founded Lam Atelier?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
I looked at him.
“Who was supposed to?”
He fell silent.
Then he said:
“My company submitted a proposal.”
“I know.”
“You’ll be involved in selecting the contractor?”
“The committee will.”
Hope appeared in his eyes.
“Tieu Van, considering our relationship—”
“What relationship?”
His expression stiffened.
“We were married.”
“Exactly.”
I smiled politely.
“Were.”
His face darkened.
“You would reject my company because of personal resentment?”
“No.”
My voice remained calm.
“If your proposal is competitive, it will be considered. If it isn’t, it won’t.”
I stepped past him.
“Unlike five years ago, Canh Tham, I no longer mix my future with you.”
That evening, Lam Vu came to my hotel.
She looked pale.
“I need to tell you something.”
“I have a meeting.”
“The child you saw isn’t Canh Tham’s.”
I stopped.
Not because I cared about their relationship.
Because she was trembling.
“His father died before he was born,” she continued. “Canh Tham helped me afterward.”
“Then why let everyone believe you were together?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Because I wanted you to think that.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because I hated that even after you left, he kept waiting for you.”
For the first time, her confession contained no excuses.
“I wanted something that had once belonged to you.”
I opened the hotel door.
“Then live with that choice.”
“Sister—”
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
“You didn’t steal my life, Lam Vu.”
I looked directly at her.
“You only helped me realize I needed a different one.”
I closed the door.
The real shock came the following afternoon.
Mother called me back to the hospital.
When I arrived, Lam Nhien was there.
So was our family lawyer.
An old folder rested on Mother’s blanket.
“What happened?”
Mother looked at me with guilt.
“Five years ago, there was something I didn’t tell you.”
She handed me the folder.
Inside was a property agreement.
My grandfather had left me several parcels of industrial land years earlier.
At the time, they had little value.
But I recognized the addresses immediately.
They were inside the Riverside redevelopment zone.
I looked at Mother.
“Why have I never seen this document?”
Her eyes reddened.
“Because shortly before your divorce, ownership was transferred.”
My blood turned cold.
“Transferred to whom?”
Lam Nhien answered.
“A holding company.”
He placed another document beside it.
“The company was controlled by the Luc family.”
I stared at him.
“That isn’t possible.”
“The transfer carries your signature.”
“I never signed it.”
“We know.”
My fingers tightened around the paper.
Then I saw the witness line.
Luc Canh Tham.
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
Mother began crying.
“Your father discovered the papers after you left. I was afraid that if you knew, you would come back and fight them while you were still vulnerable.”
I looked again at the forged signature.
Suddenly, the airport scene returned to me.
Canh Tham’s smile.
You finally came back to admit defeat.
Maybe arrogance hadn’t been the only thing behind those words.
Maybe he had been testing how much I knew.
My phone rang.
An unknown number.
I answered.
“Tieu Van.”
Canh Tham.
His voice sounded tense.
“We need to meet.”
I looked at his signature on the document.
“For once, I agree.”
There was silence.
Then he said:
“Don’t sign anything related to Riverside until we talk.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
His answer came slowly.
“Because the land your company is planning to develop doesn’t belong to the Luc family.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“It never did.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Then why is your name on the transfer?”
Another silence.
When Canh Tham finally spoke, his voice was almost unrecognizable.
“Because five years ago, I helped your father hide it from someone.”
I looked at Mother.
Her face suddenly went white.
Canh Tham continued:
“Tieu Van, your divorce and that land were connected long before you knew either was in danger.”
And in that instant, I understood that I hadn’t returned to a city haunted by my failed marriage.
I had returned to uncover a secret everyone in my family had spent five years trying to keep buried.
