THE LIST OF CRIMES

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The sharp ring of a phone shattered the silence of the night, piercing the heavy atmosphere of the luxurious bedroom. I bolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs. Beside me, Hai – my husband – also snapped awake. The dim light from the phone screen illuminated his face, revealing a strange sense of panic.

Hai hurriedly grabbed the device, his trembling fingers fumbling to power it off. He turned to look at me, but in those eyes that were once so gentle, there was only utter confusion and a vague, lingering fear. A sudden wave of unease surged through me, tightening around my chest. It was a wife’s intuition, signaling that the family happiness I had built over the past three years was about to face a terrifying upheaval.

“Who’s calling at this hour, honey?” I asked softly, my voice still thick with sleep but laced with suspicion.

Hai sighed quietly, pulling me into his arms and whispering in a weary tone: “Probably just a wrong number, babe. Go back to sleep.”

He held me, but I could feel the tension in every fiber of his being. The familiar scent of my husband suddenly felt distant. That night, my sleep was restless, filled with nightmares of an abyss opening right beneath my feet.

In the days that followed, my premonition slowly turned into a painful reality. Hai started coming home later. At first, it was thirty minutes, then several hours. His excuses were always plausible: urgent projects, sudden partner meetings, traffic jams… I tried to believe him, still preparing elaborate meals even though I often sat waiting until the food went stone cold.

But Hai had changed. Quick hugs, indifferent kisses, and blunt answers replaced the sweetness of the past. His phone became an inseparable object, always face-down or tucked deep in his pocket. Whenever a message arrived, he would startle, secretly check it, and hurriedly hide it away. Once, I caught a glimpse of his screen lighting up with a message, but he quickly covered it, laughing awkwardly: “Just spam, honey.”

The seeds of doubt grew like poisonous weeds in my heart. I tried to be affectionate, cooking his favorite dishes, but he responded only with indifference, citing exhaustion to avoid intimacy.

At the same time, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Minh, began to increase the pressure. She scrutinized my every move, from the saltiness of the soup to the tidiness of the house. She even cruelly brought up the issue of children: “It’s been three years. Do you intend to let this family line end? Or are you intentionally not conceiving to keep your figure?” Despite doctors saying we were both healthy, she insisted the fault was mine. Hai, instead of protecting me as he once did, now sided with his mother: “Mom is right, Linh. You should take a look at yourself.”

One afternoon, I was horrified to find that the heirloom ring given to me by Hai’s grandmother had vanished from my jewelry box. When I asked, my mother-in-law flatly denied it, even calling me uneducated for daring to suspect her. When Hai returned, he offered no comfort; he scolded me for making a scene over a “mere material object.” That night, I happened to overhear her whispering on the phone in the hallway: “We must get rid of her as soon as possible… remember to be discreet.”

My blood ran cold. They wanted to get rid of me? Why?

Things worsened when Thao – a young, beautiful girl claiming to be a distant relative from the countryside – arrived to stay with us. My mother-in-law and Ngoc (my sister-in-law) treated Thao like a princess, openly grooming her for Hai right in front of me. The breaking point came when I discovered a white silk handkerchief, smelling strongly of Thao’s pungent perfume, in the pocket of Hai’s blazer.

Unable to just wait for my downfall, I began a secret investigation. Once, when Hai claimed to be going on an out-of-town business trip, I followed him. He didn’t go to a meeting; instead, he turned into a suburban apartment complex – unit 502.

Standing before that door, my heart shattered as I heard Hai’s hearty laughter mingling with Thao’s flirtatious voice. I turned the handle. The scene inside was a fatal blow: Hai was holding Thao’s waist on the sofa, with red wine on the table. They looked more like a real family than he and I ever did.

When I stormed in to confront them, Hai showed no remorse. He looked at me with eyes as cold as ice: “What have you done for this family? A useless woman who can’t bear children like you—how much longer was I supposed to endure it?” He admitted Thao was pregnant with the family heir and kicked me out of the house empty-handed, declaring that all assets belonged to his family.

Full of resentment, I turned to Lawyer Minh, an old friend. From there, a secret even more horrifying than the affair was revealed. Minh discovered that the house we lived in had legal issues and that the family’s wealth showed signs of international money laundering from 20 years ago.

I risked breaking into my mother-in-law’s office and found a secret box. Inside, there were not only documents mortgaging our joint assets without my consent but also evidence of shell companies. Most importantly, I found information about a “secret safe” in my father-in-law’s study – the place containing the true list of crimes.

Uncle Hai, a retired former chief accountant, confirmed my fears: “This fortune was built on dirty money from a criminal syndicate. Your in-laws are just money launderers.”

The 50th-anniversary celebration of the family’s corporation was grandly held at a 5-star hotel. As my mother-in-law stood on stage, delivering a speech about ethics and success, I walked up with Lawyer Minh.

Before hundreds of guests and the press, I made all the evidence public: from videos of Hai and Thao’s affair to contracts with forged signatures used to seize my assets. The room erupted in chaos. The climax came when I mentioned the illicit origins of the corporation and the secret safe.

My mother-in-law tried to insult me, but at that moment, my father-in-law, Mr. Son, stepped forward. With a weathered and regretful face, he admitted everything: “She is right. I have lived in the shadows for too long.”

The police burst in shortly after. My mother-in-law, Hai, and Thao (an accomplice) were summoned for questioning. The family corporation collapsed instantly; stocks plummeted, and assets were frozen.

After the storm, I stood by the sea, breathing in the air of freedom. Hai later came to find me, broken and begging for forgiveness, but I chose to let go. Not because I am weak, but because I do not want my soul stained by hatred anymore.

The law of karma had been served. I began a new life with my child growing inside me – the only remaining hope – in peace and serenity.