1290.27.
I stared at those numbers until my vision blurred.
It wasn’t the balance.
It was the ending of an account number.
An account I had once memorized better than my own phone number.
The Su family private fund.
Seven years ago, before I walked away from my family, that account had been used for my monthly personal expenses.
The minimum transfer was never less than six figures.
Now the number was appearing on the hospital payment terminal.
Why?
“Miss Chu?”
The nurse’s voice pulled me back.
“You’ve lost quite a bit of blood. Please don’t move.”
I looked toward the two bassinets beside me.
My son was sleeping.
My daughter had one tiny fist pressed against her cheek.
Something inside me softened.
Then my phone rang.
Chu Minh Vien.
I answered.
“Niem Niem?”
His voice sounded distracted.
“Vi Vi’s examination took longer than expected. How are you? Are the contractions bad?”
I stared at the ceiling.
“I already gave birth.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Six hours ago.”
“You… gave birth?”
“Twins. A boy and a girl.”
There was another long silence.
Then I heard my mother-in-law in the background.
“What did she say?”
Minh Vien lowered his voice.
“She gave birth.”
“What? Today?”
I almost laughed.
My due date had been written on the refrigerator for three months.
Yet they sounded surprised.
Minh Vien finally said:
“Why didn’t you call me?”
I closed my eyes.
“I did.”
He became silent.
Then, predictably:
“Don’t be angry. Vi Vi suddenly had abdominal pain, and everyone was worried about the baby.”
“Everyone?”
“My parents were already here, so—”
“So all of you accompanied another woman to a prenatal examination while your wife gave birth alone.”
“Niem Niem, don’t make it sound so ugly.”
There it was.
The sentence that finally ended everything.
I hung up.
Then I removed my wedding ring.
It came off surprisingly easily.
Seven years ago, I had left my own family because I wanted to prove I could live without the Su name.
Three years ago, I married Minh Vien because I believed he loved To Niem, the ordinary woman with nothing.
Now I finally understood.
There was a difference between loving an ordinary woman and believing an ordinary woman had nowhere else to go.
I opened an old encrypted application on my phone.
My password still worked.
A message appeared immediately.
Identity verification complete.
Then another.
Welcome back, Miss Su.
My throat tightened.
Seven years.
I opened the account.
For several seconds, I thought I had misread the balance.
Then I counted the digits again.
My grandfather had never closed my family trust.
Not only that.
Every annual distribution I had refused to receive had remained there.
Untouched.
Waiting.
My phone slipped slightly in my hand.
Then an incoming call appeared.
Uncle Su Jingyuan.
I hesitated before answering.
“Niem Niem?”
The familiar voice nearly destroyed the wall I’d spent seven years building.
“Uncle.”
He stopped breathing.
Then I heard him say to someone:
“She’s answering.”
There was movement.
Another voice came through.
Older.
Shaking.
My grandfather.
“To Niem.”
My tears fell instantly.
I hadn’t cried when Minh Vien abandoned me.
I hadn’t cried through six hours of labor.
But those two words broke me.
“Grandpa.”
The old man was silent for several seconds.
Then:
“Where are you?”
“First People’s Hospital.”
“What happened?”
“I had children.”
“You…”
His voice changed.
“Children?”
“Twins.”
Something crashed on his side.
My uncle shouted:
“Dad!”
“I’M FINE!”
Then Grandpa returned to the phone.
“A boy or girl?”
“One of each.”
Silence.
Then the man who had once terrified half the city’s business community began crying.
“My granddaughter gave birth and nobody told me.”
I covered my mouth.
“Grandpa…”
“Which room?”
I told him.
He hung up.
Twenty-five minutes later, the entire obstetrics department changed.
First came the hospital director.
Then the head of obstetrics.
Then two nurses entered my six-person room.
“Miss Su, we’re transferring you.”
I blinked.
“Where?”
“The executive maternity suite.”
“I didn’t request—”
“The chairman has already arranged it.”
Chairman.
I hadn’t heard anyone call Grandpa that in years.
Outside, several black cars had stopped at the hospital entrance.
My uncle arrived first.
Behind him came my aunt.
Then my grandfather.
His hair was completely white now.
The moment he saw me, his eyes turned red.
He walked to my bed.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then he touched my hair.
“You’ve become thin.”
That was all.
I started crying.
He didn’t ask why I’d disappeared.
He didn’t say I had been stubborn.
He didn’t remind me that he’d warned me.
He simply bent down and kissed my forehead.
“Let’s go home.”
An hour later, Chu Minh Vien finally arrived.
He entered carrying flowers.
His mother followed him.
His father was behind her.
And Tham Vi Vi came too.
Still wearing the dress from her prenatal photographs.
They stopped at the door.
My six-person room was empty.
“Where is To Niem?” Minh Vien asked.
The nurse looked at him strangely.
“Miss Su has been transferred.”
“Miss Su?”
“My wife is Chu To Niem.”
The nurse frowned.
“The patient registered here as To Niem was transferred to the executive maternity floor.”
My mother-in-law immediately became annoyed.
“Executive floor? Who paid for that?”
A voice answered behind them.
“I did.”
My grandfather stood at the end of the corridor.
Minh Vien looked confused.
“Who are you?”
Grandpa studied him.
Not angrily.
That would have been easier.
He looked at Minh Vien the way he looked at an unsuccessful investment.
“You’re Chu Minh Vien?”
“Yes.”
“My granddaughter’s husband?”
Minh Vien froze.
“Granddaughter?”
My mother-in-law looked between them.
“Excuse me, old sir, perhaps you’ve mistaken someone.”
My uncle stepped forward.
“Chairman Su doesn’t mistake his own granddaughter.”
The color disappeared from my father-in-law’s face.
Unlike Minh Vien, he recognized the name.
“Chairman… Su?”
He grabbed his wife’s arm.
“Stop talking.”
She frowned.
“What?”
He whispered something.
I couldn’t hear it from inside the suite.
But I saw her expression change.
Su Holdings.
The Su family.
Hotels, pharmaceuticals, logistics, finance, real estate.
The family whose wealth was discussed in numbers the Chu family could barely imagine.
And I was their only granddaughter.
Minh Vien pushed past them and entered my room.
“Niem Niem.”
I was holding our daughter.
My son slept beside me.
His face changed when he saw them.
For one brief moment, he looked genuinely emotional.
He walked forward.
“Our babies…”
My uncle blocked him.
Minh Vien frowned.
“I’m their father.”
“And where were you when they were born?” Grandpa asked.
Minh Vien stopped.
“I had an emergency.”
Grandpa looked toward Tham Vi Vi.
She immediately lowered her head.
“A prenatal examination was your emergency?”
Minh Vien’s face became red.
“Niem Niem misunderstood. Vi Vi is just—”
“I didn’t misunderstand anything.”
Everyone looked at me.
I placed my daughter carefully in the bassinet.
Then I held out my hand.
My wedding ring lay in my palm.
“Minh Vien.”
His expression changed.
“No.”
I hadn’t even said it yet.
He already knew.
“I want a divorce.”
His mother immediately exploded.
“Divorce? You just gave birth! Have you gone crazy?”
My aunt turned toward her.
“Lower your voice around the babies.”
Perhaps something in her tone finally reminded Mrs. Chu where she was.
She shut her mouth.
Minh Vien came closer.
“Niem Niem, let’s go home and talk.”
“I am going home.”
Relief flashed across his face.
Then I finished:
“Just not to your home.”
His expression froze.
At that moment, Tham Vi Vi suddenly pressed a hand against her stomach.
“Minh Vien…”
He turned instinctively.
“What’s wrong?”
That one movement told me everything I still needed to know.
Even now.
Even here.
His first instinct was still her.
I smiled.
“Go.”
He turned back.
“Niem Niem—”
“Take her for another examination.”
His face went pale.
My grandfather quietly said:
“My granddaughter needs to rest.”
Security escorted them out.
Three days later, I left the hospital.
Not in the Chu family’s BMW.
Not in a taxi.
A convoy waited outside.
But I barely noticed the cars.
I noticed my grandfather carrying my son.
My uncle carrying my daughter.
My aunt walking beside me slowly because my body still hurt.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t the person taking care of everyone else.
Someone was taking care of me.
I thought the story ended there.
It didn’t.
That evening, my uncle entered my room carrying a folder.
“Niem Niem, there’s something you should see before the divorce.”
“What?”
He placed several documents before me.
They concerned Chu Building Materials.
Minh Vien’s family business.
I frowned.
“Why do you have this?”
“Because the Chu family applied for a major expansion loan six months ago.”
“What does that have to do with us?”
My uncle looked at me strangely.
“The lender is Su Capital.”
My fingers stopped.
“And the application?”
“Approved conditionally.”
I looked up.
“Conditionally?”
“The final guarantee hasn’t been signed.”
My uncle turned the last page toward me.
At the bottom was the name of the person whose authorization was required.
Su To Niem.
Me.
I stared at it.
Minh Vien had spent three years believing his wife had no family, no money and nowhere to go.
His family had treated me like free labor.
And now their entire expansion depended on my signature.
But that wasn’t the most shocking part.
My uncle placed another document on top.
A background-investigation report.
“Grandpa ordered this after you called.”
I opened it.
Tham Vi Vi’s name appeared repeatedly.
Payments.
Transfers.
Hotel records.
Then one hospital document.
A prenatal file.
I read the father’s-information column.
My hands became cold.
It did not say Chu Minh Vien.
I looked at my uncle.
“What is this?”
“We verified it twice.”
“But she told everyone…”
“I know.”
“Then whose child is she carrying?”
My uncle was silent.
He turned to the final page.
A photograph was clipped there.
Tham Vi Vi was entering a hotel with a man.
I recognized him immediately.
My heart stopped.
Because the man beside her wasn’t my husband.
It was his father.
My father-in-law.
And beneath the photograph was a date.
Four months earlier.
