Chapter 7 - Minh’s First Lie
Lan refused to speak to her father inside the market.
Too many family photographs.
Too many symbols of respect.
She made him meet at a coffee shop six miles away.
“Why?”
Minh stared into untouched tea.
“In 1994, my mother was sick.”
“That doesn't answer me.”
“We had debt.”
Lan already knew pieces.
Her grandmother’s cancer treatment had cost the family heavily.
The market nearly closed.
Nam Nguyen offered help.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
In return, he wanted access to documents in Room 27B.
“What documents?”
“He said records proving his father had contributed more money than the trust recognized.”
“And you believed him?”
Minh looked ashamed.
“I wanted to.”
Lan leaned back.
“You sold him access.”
“I borrowed money.”
“Against community records that were not yours.”
Minh said nothing.
Jack sat across the table.
It was uncomfortable seeing a man dismantled by his own daughter.
But Jack had come for truth.
Minh continued.
He gave Nam the second key.
Nam entered Room 27B.
Two days later, he returned it.
Minh never checked the room.
“Why not?”
“Because I was afraid.”
Jack laughed bitterly.
“That word sure built this neighborhood.”
Minh accepted the hit.
Years passed.
Nam expanded his property holdings.
Duc Tran died.
Nam died in 2017.
Bao inherited several parcels.
Minh never admitted what he had done.
Lan asked, “Did Grandpa know?”
“No.”
“Mom?”
Minh hesitated.
“Yes.”
Lan’s face changed.
Her mother, Mai, had died four years earlier.
“What did she say?”
“She told me to fix it.”
“And?”
“I told myself it no longer mattered.”
Lan pushed back from the table.
“Of course you did.”
She walked outside.
Sophie followed.
Jack stayed with Minh.
For a while neither spoke.
Finally Jack asked, “Why did you recognize the flag?”
“Daniel came here in 1994.”
Jack froze.
“What?”
“He confronted me.”
“Dad?”
“He had learned Nam knew about the archive.”
“Did you tell him you gave Nam the key?”
“No.”
Jack laughed once.
“Another lie.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Daniel told me if anything disappeared, it would be my responsibility.”
“And?”
“I told him to leave.”
“Why?”
Minh looked at him.
“Because I still blamed him for Vinh.”
Jack stared.
“So Dad knew somebody could access that room.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he take the documents?”
“He tried.”
“What stopped him?”
Minh’s eyes lowered.
“Me.”
Jack stood.
“You stopped him?”
“I told him the building belonged to the trust. I threatened to call police.”
Anger surged through Jack.
His father had driven back to the neighborhood he fled, trying to protect the archive.
Minh had sent him away.
“Why?”
“Because if he opened 27B, he would discover I had given Nam access.”
Jack shoved his chair back.
The sound made people turn.
Minh did not flinch.
“I was ashamed.”
“My father spent thirty years believing those records were safe.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
Jack left.
Outside, Sophie was comforting Lan.
Nobody was innocent anymore.
Not Daniel, who accepted a secret settlement.
Not Duc, who wanted silence after Vinh died.
Not Minh, who traded access to community records for money.
Not Nam, who apparently exploited that weakness.
History had stopped dividing neatly into heroes and traitors.
That evening, Lan searched her mother's belongings.
Mai had been meticulous.
Tax records.
Medical bills.
Letters.
Recipes.
Inside an old cookbook, Lan found an envelope.
Written on the front:
FOR LAN, IF YOUR FATHER NEVER FINDS THE COURAGE.
Inside was a photocopy of one document.
FOUNDERS’ PROPERTY CONTRIBUTIONS — 1987.
Twelve names.
Amounts.
Parcel allocations.
Nam Nguyen's contribution: $62,000.
Duc Tran: $71,500.
Several others.
And Daniel Mercer:
$50,000 — TEMPORARY ESCROW ONLY — NO OWNERSHIP INTEREST.
At the bottom, Mai had written:
THE VERSION NAM USED IN 1995 IS FALSE.
Lan’s hands began shaking.
Another paper was attached.
A county deed record from 1995.
Nam had claimed an additional ownership interest supposedly purchased from Daniel Mercer for $50,000.
But Daniel had never owned that interest.
The transfer was impossible.
Unless someone forged the underlying document.
Lan called Sophie.
“You need to see this.”
Within an hour, they were together.
Sophie compared Daniel’s signature on the 1995 transfer with his letters.
“Looks similar.”
Lan shook her head.
“Look at the middle initial.”
Daniel Mercer always wrote Daniel R. Mercer with a looped R.
The transfer showed Daniel P. Mercer.
His middle name was Robert.
A small error.
A fatal one.
Someone had forged Daniel’s signature.
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And that forged transfer had eventually helped place three of Freedom Avenue's most valuable parcels in the Nguyen family’s control.
Today, those parcels were worth almost nine million dollars.
