Chapter 2
The world went quiet.
For a second, I thought I’d misheard him. I thought the ringing in my ears was making up words.
Bao was still sobbing into my neck. His little body was heaving, and I could feel his heart racing against mine.
“What did you say?” I whispered.
My husband stepped inside. He closed the door behind him. He didn’t glance at his mother, who was now making small, choking noises in the corner.
“You heard me,” he said. He tapped the folder against his palm. “Bao is not your biological son. You have no legal right to keep him. These papers say so.”
One of the officers stepped forward. “Sir, what is this? We’re investigating an abuse claim—”
“This takes priority,” my husband said. He flipped open the folder and pulled out a stack of documents, holding them out. “DNA test results. Court filings from Korea. All legal. She signed away her rights three years ago.”
I laughed. It came out sharp and broken, half sob half snarl.
“I signed nothing,” I said. “I carried that baby for nine months. I almost died giving birth to him. You were there. You held his hand first.”
My husband’s jaw tightened. For a split second, I saw something flicker in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or fear. But it was gone so fast I thought I imagined it.
“These are official,” he said. “Stamped. Notarized. You can argue with the judge.”
The other officer looked at me. His face was soft, but his voice was careful. “Ma’am… if these papers are real, we have to follow procedure.”
Bao screamed louder. He buried his face deeper, his fingers tangling in my hair.
“No! I want Mommy! I don’t want to go! Daddy, don’t take me!”
My husband’s face crumpled just a little. He held out a hand. “Bao, come here, son. It’s okay. Daddy’s here now.”
Bao shook his head so hard he could barely breathe. “No! You’re mean! Grandma is mean! I only want Mommy!”
I stepped back until my shoulders hit the wall. I held the recorder tighter in one hand, the crumpled bank receipt in the other.
“Look at these,” I said to the officers. I held out the receipt first. “Fifty million dong. From his account to hers. Three days ago. The note says for the lawyer. Full custody. They planned this together. To take my son.”
The first officer took the paper. He frowned.
Then I held up the recorder. “And this. She threatened him. Told him a monster would eat him if he told anyone she hurt him. You heard it.”
My mother-in-law found her voice. “She made him say that! She forced him! She’s been poisoning him against me for years!”
“Then let’s run another test,” I said. I looked straight at my husband. “Right now. Today. At the hospital where I work. My colleagues know me. They know Bao. We’ll do a new DNA test. Both of us. You, me, and him. If those papers are real, you have nothing to fear.”
The room went still.
My husband didn’t answer. He just stared at the floor. His hand tightened around the folder until his knuckles turned white.
“Well?” I said. My voice was shaking, but I held it as steady as I could. “Or are those papers as fake as your mother’s concern for her grandson?”
The first officer nodded. “That’s a fair request, sir. If the test is clean, we’ll proceed with your custody order. If not… we’ll have a lot more questions.”
My mother-in-law let out a sharp cry. “No! You don’t have to do this, son! Those papers are good! She’s just trying to trick you!”
She reached for his arm. He shook her off like she was a bug.
“Fine,” he said. He lifted his head. His eyes were red. “We’ll do the test. Today. But when it comes back the way I know it will… you don’t get to see him again. Not ever.”
I kissed the top of Bao’s head. He was still crying, but he’d quieted a little, his breath hitching against my throat.
“Okay,” I said. “But if it comes back that he’s mine? You both answer for every single thing you’ve done.”
The officers followed us to the hospital. My mother-in-law tried to come too, but one officer told her to stay behind, that she was still under investigation for the abuse claim. She screamed and cursed all the way down the stairs, until the front door slammed shut behind her.
In the car, Bao fell asleep from exhaustion, his head lolled against his seat. I watched him in the mirror. My husband sat in the back, silent, staring out the window.
I didn’t speak to him. I didn’t look at him.
I just kept replaying his words in my head. He’s not even yours.
Two years. Two years of working myself to the bone, of raising our son alone, of counting the days until he came home. And all that time, he’d been planning to take Bao away.
When we pulled into the hospital parking lot, I turned around.
“Whatever happens today,” I said, “you should know. I will never let anyone take my son. Not her. Not you. Not a court full of fake papers. I will fight until my last breath.”
He didn’t answer. He just looked away.
But I saw it again. That flicker.
This time, I knew what it was.
He was scared.
May you like
Not of me.
Of the truth.
