👉 Previous Decision: You chose Option A – Deny all hallucinations publicly and accuse Kevin of attempting a family takeover.
“No, Uncle Duc,” Liem said, his voice firm, projecting an authority he barely felt. He fixed his gaze on Kevin. “I have not. These are malicious fabrications, designed to discredit me.”
He stepped forward, his eyes locked on his son. “Kevin is attempting a family takeover, to seize what is not his.”
A ripple of uneasy murmurs passed through the room. Kevin’s face remained impassive, but his jaw tightened. Uncle Duc looked from Liem to Kevin, then back to the petition.
“This council will review all evidence,” Uncle Duc declared, his voice a low rumble. “For now, the petition is tabled.”
Liem felt Anh’s hand squeeze his arm. He turned and walked out of the community hall, Anh close behind him. The air outside was cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the suffocating tension within.
“You did well, Liem,” Anh said, her voice tight with suppressed anger. “But this isn’t over.”
That evening, Anh led Liem to their late father’s old workshop, a dusty, cluttered space behind their childhood home. Their father had been a man of many secrets, and even more locked cabinets. Anh produced a small, rusted key from a hidden pouch sewn into the lining of her ao dai.
“Father always said, ‘Keep important things close, but secrets closer,'” Anh mused, turning the key in a heavy wooden drawer. Inside lay a stack of yellowed papers, tied with a faded ribbon. She pulled out a thick envelope, marked ‘1998 – Bolsa Land.’
Her fingers fumbled with the clasp, pulling out a deed. “Our father’s land trust. The commercial lot on Bolsa Avenue.”
Liem leaned over her shoulder as she scanned the document. Then, Anh gasped. Her finger trembled, pointing to a dense block of text, almost hidden by an expired signature.
“Liem, look at this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “A clause. Right here.”
It was a small, almost invisible print, tucked away in the dense legal jargon. A clause stating that if Liem Nguyen was declared legally incompetent or medically unfit to manage his affairs before his 53rd birthday, the entire $850,000 commercial lot on Bolsa Avenue would automatically transfer to Kevin Nguyen.
Liem’s 53rd birthday was in two weeks. A cold dread seeped into his bones. This wasn’t about mental health. This was about money, a ticking clock, and Kevin’s desperate grab for an inheritance.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 10 to continue the story
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