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.