That night, I couldn't sleep.
The conversation with Hoai Trach replayed in my mind over and over like a broken record. Every word, every glance, every silence between us—he had studied me. Tested me. And I knew one thing for certain now:
He didn't fully believe I was the same person.
Good.
Because I wasn't.
But that didn't mean he trusted me.
And I couldn't afford to trust him, either.
I sat at my desk in the apartment the company had provided—cold walls, designer furniture, a view of the city that felt too far away. I opened the folder I'd stolen a copy of before I left the office.
Tran Minh wasn't the only name that stood out.
Several senior employees had been approving fake vendor contracts, siphoning off company funds through dummy corporations. And those corporations?
They all traced back to one name.
Nguyen Gia Lan.
My heart dropped.
She was the daughter of the chairman of the board.
And my supposed "best friend" in this world.
I stared at the name, bile rising in my throat. The original Hoa Tu had followed Gia Lan around like a lapdog. She'd been her shadow, her shield, and her pawn.
No wonder I was marked for ruin from the start.
This wasn't just office politics anymore. This was a web of corruption that went all the way to the top. And somehow, I had walked straight into it.
I pulled out my phone and called Tham Du.
"Get me everything you can on Nguyen Gia Lan. I want her private investments, shell companies, board votes. Everything."
"Understood," he said. "But be careful. That family is… untouchable."
I laughed bitterly. "No one's untouchable. Not anymore."
After I hung up, I opened my laptop and started typing up a report.
If I couldn't trust anyone in the company, I needed a backup plan—proof, data, a paper trail. Something I could send to the media, or the authorities, if things went wrong.
Because they would try to silence me.
Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But they would.
I had to be ready.
A notification popped up.
New message: Unknown Number.
"You're making noise. Tread carefully, or you'll disappear like the last one."
I stared at the message, pulse tightening.
The last one?
I typed a reply.
"Good. Let them know I'm not afraid."
But my fingers trembled just slightly before I hit send.
Because this time, the game wasn't just in the office.
It was in the shadows.
And someone was watching.