Steven Nguyen v. Dung Manh Vu
What's This Case About?
Let’s be real: how do you lose a third of a million dollars to a guy you met once, in a nail salon deal that didn’t even legally exist? Welcome to the wild world of Nguyen v. Vu, where friendship, fraud, and Florida converge in a tale so slick it could’ve been sold as a Lifetime movie before it ended up in a civil court filing.
Steven Nguyen, a nail salon owner from Tennessee, thought he was investing in a dream — or at least a down-to-earth business opportunity. Dung Manh Vu, also known as Henry (because of course he has a Western alias), was the charismatic pitchman who walked into Nguyen’s life like a real estate agent for get-rich-quick schemes. They met in July 2023, thanks to a mutual friend — the kind of setup that sounds harmless until you realize it’s the opening scene of every scam since the invention of money. Vu didn’t waste time. Within minutes, he was spinning a story about Trendy Salon Suite, LLC — a nail salon under construction in Orlando, Florida, at 7017 S. Orange Blossom Trail. He claimed he’d already run other successful salons, that this one was almost ready to open, and that the only thing standing between him and salon domination was cold, hard cash. And wouldn’t you know it? He had a perfect investor in mind: Nguyen.
Vu’s pitch was simple: give me $300,000, and I’ll hand over 30% of my 100% ownership in Trendy. Oh, and if it flops? No sweat — I’ll give you every penny back. Sounds like a no-lose deal, right? Except when someone promises you a guaranteed return on a business investment, that’s not a business pitch — that’s a red flag waving like it’s trying out for the Olympic torch relay. But Nguyen, either trusting or desperate, went all in. He sold his own nail salon. He borrowed from family. He borrowed from friends. He mortgaged his house. This wasn’t spare change he was throwing at a side hustle — this was his entire financial life, rolled into one high-stakes bet on a man he’d known for weeks.
The first $5,000 changed hands on July 28, 2023. Then came the rest — $295,000, paid in chunks, the final installment arriving October 27. Vu even drafted up two “Sale & Partner Agreement” documents, which sounds official until you realize they’re about as binding as a handshake at a magic convention. The deal was sealed. Nguyen was now — in theory — a 30% owner of a Florida LLC called Trendy Salon Suite. Except here’s the kicker: Trendy Salon Suite, LLC wasn’t even legally formed until March 30, 2024. That’s nine months after Nguyen started handing over money. Vu was selling shares in a company that didn’t exist. It’s like buying stock in a unicorn — not the mythical creature, but the startup kind, except this one wasn’t even incorporated yet.
But Nguyen didn’t know that. What he did know was that within days of the first payment, Vu had already pulled over $100,000 out of the project funds. When Nguyen asked what was going on, Vu gave him the classic financial ghosting — vague answers, dodged questions, the whole “I’m handling it” routine. Then, on the very same day Nguyen handed over the final $295,000 installment, Vu hit him up for another $30,000, claiming the salon was “losing money.” Nguyen, now deep in the sunk-cost fallacy, handed it over. That brings the grand total to $330,000 — the cost of a nice suburban home in many parts of America, or, in this case, the price of one man’s misplaced trust.
Then the silence began. Vu cut off Nguyen’s access to the salon’s security cameras — the only window Nguyen had into the operation. He stopped responding to messages. He ghosted like a TikTok influencer after a scandal. And then, on November 9, 2023 — just weeks after the last payment — Vu did the ultimate flex of betrayal: he listed the salon for sale, advertising himself as the 100% owner. No mention of Nguyen. No partnership. Just Henry Vu, sole proprietor, ready to cash out.
Nguyen finally got Vu on the phone that same day. And in a moment that feels ripped from a crime drama, Vu promised to pay him back — with interest. To prove he wasn’t totally heartless, Vu sent two payments of $3,300 — a grand total of $6,600, or about 2% of what he owed. Then he blamed his pho restaurant — yes, his drive-thru pho restaurant — for the delay, claiming he needed to sell it to raise the cash. Nguyen, clinging to hope, waited. But Vu sold the restaurant, kept the money, and then — in a move so bold it deserves its own awards category — sold the nail salon too, pocketed that cash, and then fled to Texas. By February 2024, he was gone. And Nguyen was left with nothing but a mortgage, a sold business, and a friendship that had turned into a financial horror story.
Now, Nguyen is suing — not for revenge, but for the $323,400 Vu still owes him after the $6,600 in token repayments. He’s making two main arguments: breach of contract and fraud. The first is straightforward: we had a deal, I paid, you didn’t deliver. The second is juicier — fraud. Nguyen claims Vu lied about everything: the ownership transfer, the refund promise, the salon’s financial losses, even his own status as the sole owner when he listed it for sale. And the most damning part? Vu knew Trendy didn’t legally exist when he promised Nguyen a stake in it. That’s not just bad business — that’s textbook fraud. You can’t sell shares in a company that’s still a twinkle in a Secretary of State’s eye.
Is $323,400 a lot? In this context? It’s everything. This wasn’t spare change from a side gig — this was Nguyen’s life savings, his home equity, his network of family and friends tapped out to fund a dream that was never real. For Vu, it might’ve been just another scam. For Nguyen, it’s financial ruin. And yet, the most absurd part isn’t even the scale of the theft — it’s the audacity. Vu didn’t just take the money and run. He took it, lied about why he needed more, sold the fake business, sold his other business, and then vanished like a magician after a disappearing act. He didn’t even try to hide the tracks — listing the salon for sale while pretending Nguyen didn’t exist is the kind of move that says, “I don’t think you matter at all.”
Our take? We’re rooting for Nguyen — not just because he’s the plaintiff, but because this case is a masterclass in how not to treat a friend. The idea that someone could exploit trust so completely, over something as mundane as a nail salon, is equal parts tragic and ridiculous. It’s the kind of story that makes you want to hug your loved ones — and then triple-check any business deals you’re about to make with people who use phrases like “I’ll give it all back if it fails.” Because in the end, this wasn’t just about money. It was about betrayal wrapped in paperwork, and a friendship turned into a financial crime scene. And if justice has any sense of drama, Nguyen won’t just get his money back — he’ll get to watch Vu explain, under oath, why he thought he could get away with selling a company that didn’t exist. Spoiler: the answer is probably just “Florida.”
Case Overview
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Steven Nguyen
individual
Rep: Thomas S. Dolney
- Dung Manh Vu individual
| # | Cause of Action | Description |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Breach of Contract | Nguyen accuses Vu of breaching a contract to invest in a nail salon and transfer ownership in exchange for $300,000. |
| 2 | Fraud | Nguyen accuses Vu of making false statements to induce him to invest in the nail salon. |
Docket Events
5 entries-
02/22/2026Complaint 106298390📄 View Document
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02/22/2026Case Initiated
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02/22/2026Civil Cover Sheet 106298378📄 View Document
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02/23/2026Summons Issued Electronically as to 106318380 Comments: EM ATTY📄 View Document
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02/23/2026Uniform Order Setting Case for Non-Jury/Pretrial-Streamlined 106312979📄 View Document