That night, Lisa couldn't remember how many drinks she had.
Her stepmother, Mrs. Phuong, kept handing her glass after glass of sweet cocktails, saying it was to "celebrate an early birthday."
Lisa didn't suspect a thing. She thought maybe, just maybe, her stepmother was being kind because she would be turning nineteen the next day.
So naïve. She had no idea that behind that fake smile was an entire web of darkness already spun.
By the time Lisa started to feel dizzy, her limbs heavy and unsteady, it was already too late.
She tried to get up from her seat, murmuring something like, "I want to go home," but Mrs. Phuong was already holding her by the shoulders, still smiling sweetly.
"Oh dear, you're drunk already? Just had a few sips! Come on, I'll take you to a hotel to rest. If we go home now, your father will scold you."
Lisa nodded drowsily, just wanting to sleep.
She had no idea that while she was resting her head on her stepmother's shoulder, Mrs. Phuong was signaling to a man waiting outside the car—phone already in hand, camera ready.
The hotel room had been booked in advance.
Mrs. Phuong half-carried Lisa down the hallway, her feet dragging slowly across the carpet. Lisa mumbled incoherently, "Dì ơi… why are we at a hotel… this isn't home…"
Her stepmother didn't answer. She just snapped, "Quiet. Rest a bit, we'll go home tomorrow."
The door opened with a soft click. Warm yellow light spilled onto the cold tiled floor.
Mrs. Phuong laid Lisa down on the bed, took off her shoes, and pulled the blanket up to her waist. But she wasn't finished yet.
She turned away, picked up her phone, and dialed a number.
"It's done. She's completely out. Bring him up—now."
Moments later, a man led another into the room.
The man was John Lam, heir to Lam Thinh Group.
He had been drinking heavily downstairs at the hotel bar, drugged by so-called "friends" and guided here without his full awareness.
Both he and Lisa were pawns in a dirty, well-orchestrated scheme—carefully planned by Mrs. Phuong, a woman drowning in gambling debt and now willing to sell even her husband's daughter to escape it.
—
The next morning, a blurry photo taken in the hotel was sent to a notorious gossip site.
The headline screamed:
"Lam Thinh Heir Spends Night With Young Girl?"
Attached was a secretly filmed video of the two inside the hotel room. The lighting was dim, but John and Lisa's faces were clear enough to recognize.
The entire city exploded in chaos.
Newspapers raced each other for juicier headlines. Social media caught fire.
Lam Group was flooded with pressure from public backlash. Shareholders demanded that John take action to "protect the family's image."
Meanwhile, from Lisa's side—more accurately, from Mrs. Phuong—there were nonstop calls and public outbursts demanding the Lam family "restore the girl's dignity."
Less than 48 hours later, John's parents—Mr. and Mrs. Lam—personally arrived at the rundown house where Lisa lived with her father and stepmother.
Not because they believed their son was guilty. No.
They knew the truth didn't matter to the press. Once a scandal broke, it had to be cleaned up before it spread further.
At that moment, Lisa still hadn't fully grasped what had happened.
She vaguely remembered waking up in a hotel bed, her clothes disheveled, and an unfamiliar man beside her.
Terrified, she ran home. When she arrived, her father slapped her across the face.
"You've disgraced me! What the hell were you doing in a hotel room with a man?!"
Mrs. Phuong stood nearby, fake tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I told you, she's just a child. She must've been tricked… she didn't know what she was doing…"
Lisa was stunned, her throat dry and bitter.
Before she could say a word, a sleek luxury car pulled up outside.
A well-dressed couple stepped out—John's parents.
They glanced at Lisa from head to toe before saying coldly:
"What's done is done. To avoid any further disgrace for both sides, we want to hold the wedding soon. Do you agree?"
Lisa froze. Everything felt like a nightmare.
No one asked if she agreed.
No one cared about the tears welling up in her eyes.
No one saw the betrayal written all over her face—the betrayal by the very people who should've protected her.
And no one could've predicted… that this was only the beginning—
The beginning of a marriage built on silence and resentment…
But also, the beginning of a love that would burn through pain… and carve its name into destiny.