Maybe it was the overwhelming hatred I felt for Dad that made me snap back to Mom's side the very next second.

When I saw her, still lying cold and lifeless on the ground after an entire night, the tears came rushing down all at once.

I collapsed over her body, my sobs wracked with frustration and grief.

"Mom, please wake up," I cried. "Dad's so awful! He's trying to report you for taking bribes during surgery. He's trying to get you banned from being a doctor!

"You didn't even take the money, you gave it back to the patient! But Dad believes Denise, and he didn't even bother to check!

"Mom, please! Please don't die. I don't want to be dead anymore, especially with a Dad like that."

I didn't know if my sadness was affecting her, but through my tear-filled eyes, I thought I saw her fingers twitch. My heart leaped with hope, and for a brief, shining moment, I thought she might wake up.

But before I could scream out in joy, the sharp trill of the phone pierced the air.

My whole body jolted when I saw the name flashing on the screen: "Medical Office."

My heart sank. It had to be the hospital, calling to inform Mom that she was being suspended from work.

I didn't even want to imagine what would happen if Mom lost her dream of being a doctor. How could she continue to live without it?

Tears streamed down my face again. I didn't know if it was my crying or the sound of the ringing phone, but suddenly, Mom's lashes fluttered, and her eyes slowly opened.

A rush of joy filled me, but it was short-lived. Before I could react, I watched her reach for the phone.

Panic seized me, and I threw myself forward instinctively. "Mom, don't answer it! Don't!" I screamed, my voice raw and desperate.

But as soon as my hand brushed hers, it passed right through.

I was so frantic, I could barely breathe. She had just woken up—if she found out she was being suspended, who knew what she'd do in her fragile state?

Yet no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I screamed or cried, she picked up the phone anyway.

Just as I had feared, the phone call lasted barely thirty seconds, but it was enough to completely crush Mom.

Already weak, her body collapsed to the floor, trembling as her eyes locked onto my photo. She sobbed so violently that her entire frame shook, her despair palpable.

"Mary, why is your father so cruel?" she wept, her voice breaking. "Does he not love either of us at all?" Her words were raw with pain. "Will he only be satisfied if he walks over my dead body to clear a path for himself and Denise?"

She curled up on the cold floor, her body folding in on itself, and let out deep, heart-wrenching cries.

Seeing her like that, I threw myself onto her back, my own sobs mingling with hers.

Mom loved Dad—she loved him so much.

Ever since I was born, the stories I'd heard the most were about their love. Mom always told me how she met Dad when she went to the countryside to do volunteer work. He was a volunteer teacher; she was a volunteer doctor.

She had gone there to heal others, but instead, it was Dad who healed her—he cured the deep wounds left behind by her parents' neglect, the pain that had haunted her for years. He helped her shed her crippling shyness, her inability to speak up for herself.

To her, Dad was a beacon of light, illuminating her life again and again.

But then he met Denise, and that light turned into a wildfire, one that scorched and scarred Mom beyond recognition.

The weight of that realization was too much to bear. I clung to Mom tightly, wrapping my arms around her, desperate to ease her suffering.

"Mom, don't cry," I pleaded. "We don't need Dad. We don't need him anymore. If he wants to be awful and rotten, we'll just leave him be. I'm here for you, Mom. I'll always be here with you."

But no matter how much I tried to comfort her, no matter how tightly I clung to her, Mom's cries only grew louder, her body curling up even tighter in the void of my embrace.

Dad came home at 9 p.m., and of course, Denise was with him.

The sight of Mom lying on the floor, her face pale and lifeless, only caused him to frown slightly as he said, "Now you know what pain feels like, huh? Do you even remember when you sent those fake documents to Denise's company, accusing her of plagiarizing a famous designer? You got her fired. Do you know how much that hurt her?"

"Did you know Denise's depression worsened because of you? She almost jumped off a building!"

His tone turned condescending. "So what if you've been suspended? It's no big deal. Maybe it's even better that you're not a doctor anymore. Now you'll have time to stay home and take care of Mary. You were always too busy with your job and never cared for her properly. If she weren't so mature, she would have abandoned a mother like you long ago."

Hearing Dad use me to torment Mom, my anger exploded. Hatred surged through me, overwhelming every thought. I couldn't take it anymore.

I rushed at him, furious, shouting, "Get out! Get out of our house! I don't want a father like you! You can't keep hurting Mom! I won't let you!"

I tried to push him, claw at his face, but it was useless. No matter how hard I fought, he didn't feel a thing.

He looked at Mom's increasingly pale face with disdain, and then, with a sneer, he said, "Alright, stop crying. Here's what you need to do: apologize to Denise, go with us to her company, and tell them you Photoshopped those images to frame her. Do that, and I'll forgive you. We can go back to living like we used to."

He continued, "You're just too selfish, always making a fuss over nothing. I'm trying to help you. You need to learn how to be a better person."

Before his words could fully settle, Denise chimed in.

"Ethan, don't say that about Nicole. She's just used to being treated like a princess. After all, with her degree and her job as a doctor, she probably thinks the whole world should worship her."

Denise's voice took on a cruel edge. "But she doesn't understand—people as wicked as she is always meet the worst ends."

Their words were like daggers, cutting deeper into Mom's fragile heart. I was terrified, afraid she might break under the pressure.

Desperate, I rushed to Mom, wrapping my arms tightly around her as she slowly rose to her feet.

"Mom, please... please calm down. Let's just ignore these two. They're garbage. They're not worth it," I begged. "Mom, I'm begging you, don't do anything reckless."

My heart raced, my desperation rising like a tide I couldn't hold back. But then, to my shock, Mom let out a bitter laugh.

Without warning, she lunged at Denise, grabbing her hair in a vicious grip. Mom's voice was like ice as she snarled, "Denise, if I'm so evil, then let's go to hell together."

Before anyone else could react, Mom pulled a syringe from her pocket and aimed the needle at Denise's neck.

"Denise, you wretched woman," Mom spat, her eyes blazing. "Mary would love nothing more than to watch you pay for your sins with your life."