Mom's Sudden Stroke, Dad's Busy with His Mistress at Disneyland

During a video call, my mother suddenly collapsed due to a stroke.

I called 120 and then, crying, I called my father.

But it was a sweet, delicate woman who answered the phone. "You've called over a dozen times and he still won't pick up. Isn't it time you took a hint?"

My mom fought in the ICU for three days, but she didn't survive long enough to see my father. She passed away, filled with bitterness.

Later, at my mom's funeral, my own father knelt down, begging me not to report him.

***

As usual, after dinner, I made a video call to my mom.

But we hadn't talked for more than two minutes before she suddenly had a heart attack and collapsed.

I panicked, immediately dialing 120, and then I called my dad.

On the nineteenth attempt, the call finally connected.

But it wasn't my dad's voice on the other end. It was a woman's. "You've called over a dozen times, and your dad didn't answer. Maybe you should get a clue."

"My mom's not going to make it, get my dad—" I cried out.

Before I could finish, she cut me off.

"If she's not going to make it, call 120. What good is your dad going to do? Is he a doctor?!"

Then came the sound of a beep—she hung up.

Despair washed over me.

No one can imagine how I endured the 1,300 kilometers, rushing back from out of town to be by my mother's side.

She struggled in the ICU for three whole days, but never got to see my dad.

On the other end of the phone, all I heard was the cold, mechanical voice. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try again later."

After I cremated my mother alone, I took her ashes home.

Sitting in the empty house, I stared at the social media post from my father's mistress' son, falling silent.

It was a picture of the three of them having a wonderful time at Disneyland.

My father, smiling so brightly, had his arms around the mistress and her child.

He had never taken me to Disneyland, yet here he was, eager to bring someone else's child.

Maybe in the past, I would have cried, but now, I felt at peace.

My mother was gone; what was there to be bitter about?

I let out a cold laugh and tossed my phone aside.

Now I was just curious—if they came back to find they had nothing left, would they still be able to smile?

My mother had already written her will, leaving all her property and savings to me.

My mind wandered back to my mother's final moments—her pain and helplessness.

Despite the scorching sun outside, my heart grew colder and colder.

Quietly, I opened my cloud storage and began organizing the evidence I had collected over the years of my father's affair.

Every time I saw these photos proving their happiness and joy, it used to tear my heart apart.

But now, all I felt was indifference.

I had to thank the mistress' son.

His foolishness led him to accept a fake account I created using a seductive profile picture.

Through his social media, I learned that my father wasn't incapable of being a good husband or father.

He remembered every birthday of the mistress and her son, always buying them the most expensive gifts.

But he never remembered my or my mother's birthdays, always claiming to be too busy—so busy that he didn't even send a single greeting.

Yet, my mother still gladly took care of everything for him.

She always said, "Your father is just momentarily confused. He'll eventually realize who he should truly cherish."

But I knew better. If he knew how to cherish, could he stand by and watch his wife drink herself to a stomach ulcer just for work?

If he knew how to cherish, could he forget every one of his wife's and child's birthdays?

If he knew how to cherish, could he shamelessly use the hard-earned money we worked for to support a mistress?

He was a small-time manager at a state-owned enterprise, with no real power and only a 4,000 dollars monthly salary. But the way he carried himself, you'd think he earned 400,000 a month!

He always manipulated my mother, telling her, "Go ahead and chase your dreams, I'm your solid support."

Ha! A 4,000 dollars support—was that enough to buy the mistress a handbag?

Thinking about it, I truly felt it wasn't worth it for my mom.

I called the lawyer and sent over the evidence and my mother's will.

First, I had to make sure there were no mistakes when dividing the assets.

My mother was gone. I couldn't let them get their hands on the money too.

After receiving my mom's death certificate, I immediately went to the bank to cancel her credit card.

Just as I stepped out of the bank, my mom's phone rang in my bag.

I pulled it out, and the caller ID said: "Husband."

I pressed answer, and on the other end came an aggressive barrage of questions.

"Why did you stop my card?"

"Do you know how embarrassing it was when I couldn't pay just now? I gave you my salary card, and now you won't even let me use the credit card, will you? Do you even want to lead a life?!"

"Open it for me now, or don't even think about letting me come back!"

It took me a moment to realize that my canceling of my mom's credit card had caused my dad's secondary card to stop working.

I let out a cold laugh. Using my mom's money to support a mistress, yet so shameless and righteous about it—what a sight to behold!

Unbelievable.

"Dad, did you see the message I sent you?" I asked calmly.

"Why is it you? Where's your mom?" My dad sounded confused.

"Answer my question," I said, already losing patience.

His tone turned annoyed. "I saw it. Tell your mom to stop acting—it's pointless."

"Hurry up and give me back access to the account. I've got urgent things to take care of!"

"I find it pointless too, and I'm not the account holder. If you want access, go ask my mom."

No wonder my mom had made canceling the credit card the first condition in her will.

For a moment, my dad was speechless, then he snapped back harshly. "You two are suffocating me."

That same phrase again.

He had often scolded my mom for not having her own life, always revolving around him.

"You're suffocating me!"

He had said that to my mom, his face full of disgust.

"Suffocating? If you're suffocating, go to the hospital for oxygen. What's my mom got to do with it? Is she oxygen?!"

Before he could respond, I hung up the phone and turned off my mom's phone.

In my dad's eyes, a wife is a wife, and a mistress is a mistress. He never considered divorcing my mom, nor did he ever admit to having a mistress.

This was the greatest "loyalty" he gave my mother.

So, he often gave a slap, followed by a sweet reward.

Sure enough, the next day, my dad came looking for me, eagerly inviting me out to dinner.

He had booked the most expensive restaurant in the city and took me to the dining hall, finding an empty seat.

The restaurant was known for its seafood, so I thought my dad had finally had a change of heart and was going to treat me to a grand meal, but he didn't.

He only ordered a few ordinary home-style dishes.

"Is your mom still mad?"

He asked with a stiff face, still unable to lower his pride.

"No, she's not mad anymore." I replied coldly.

"Not mad, but she still won't come eat, will she? She's not even answering my calls." My dad snorted.

"I didn't answer your calls because I was too busy with work this time. Why hold on to this little thing forever?"

"It's fine. No need to answer anymore. You won't need to answer in the future either."

From now on, there will be no more calls.

Neither from my mother, nor from me.

"Why are you talking like that?" My dad was about to blow up, but suddenly seemed to remember something.

His face darkened, and in a low voice, he said, "What did your mom say? When is she going to give me back access to the card?"

So, he hadn't come to apologize or make amends. He had come for money.

"Dad, let me ask you a question first. Can you go to Disneyland while on a business trip?" I laughed.

My dad froze for a second, then, humiliated and enraged, he yelled, "Did your mom investigate me? You know this is an invasion of privacy, don't you?!"

I had thought he would at least feel guilty, but instead, he turned the tables and accused us. Shaking my head, I said, "Let's just eat. No need to waste this meal."

"Your mom is ridiculous! It was just a colleague on the trip, and her son insisted on going. I went along for a bit. Why blow it out of proportion?"

I focused on my meal, ignoring him.

Unable to contain himself anymore, my dad dropped the pretense. "Fine! Then let's end this. Call your mom now—I want a divorce!"

In the past, I used to look forward to having dinner with my dad.

He always claimed to be busy with work, having no time for me. The rare occasions when he took me and my mom out for a meal were times I cherished.

But later, I realized every time he said he was on a business trip, he was actually spending time with his mistress and her son.

It dawned on me that he only didn't have time for us.

I looked at my dad, now furious and fuming, and felt a mix of bitterness and irony.

This would be the last meal we ever had together.

Just then, a familiar figure approached us.

It was the mistress.

She swayed her hips as she walked over, looking down at me with a smug smile. "Mr. Jones, the dishes in the private room are ready, and the guests are waiting."

My dad's expression changed instantly. He hadn't expected her to be so bold. He quickly shot her a look. "Got it. I know. Uh... Assistant Green, go ahead and entertain the guests for now."

I let out a chuckle—so my dad was quite good at improvising.

"Mr. Jones, if you have things to handle, go ahead. We can talk about our matters another time." I stood up, ready to leave.

"Don't go, Gloria," my dad said, flustered, grabbing my arm.

I glanced over at the private room where the mistress had emerged. The table was laden with delicacies, a stark contrast to the plain dishes in front of me.

I thought to myself, I really shouldn't have come today. Shaking off his hand, I walked straight toward the door.

"Gloria Jones! If you walk out that door today, don't bother calling me dad again!"

I let him shout. I had long stopped wanting to call him dad.

"Fine! Your mom won't answer my calls, huh? Then I'll call your grandfather!"

The moment I heard that, my heart sank, and I immediately turned to stop him—but it was too late.

"Dad, tell Olivia to stop acting. She won't pick up. Fine. We'll go to the civil affairs bureau tomorrow!"

Once again, my heart plummeted. These past days, my grandfather had already been heartbroken over losing his daughter, and now my dad was going to hurt him even more!

I heard my grandfather‘s voice on the other end of the line, angrily cursing my father. "Max Jones, you beast! How could you neglect your wife even in death? You are utterly heartless!"