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.