Millions for Her Ex, Nothing to Save My Dad

After the college entrance exams, my mother gifted a villa worth $30 million to her first love and his son.

But when my father needed just $700 for life-saving surgery, she refused.

I broke down and called her—only to hear his voice on the other end.

"I told your mother not to give it," he said casually. "Shawn saw a watch that costs exactly five thousand dollars. He’s expected to score 700 on the exam. Isn’t that more worth rewarding than some old man faking illness?"

In the background, my mother’s laughter rang out—soft, sweet, and utterly cruel.

My father wiped away my tears and whispered, “My dear son… take care of yourself when I’m no longer around…”

After he died, I brought his death certificate to my mother. She glanced at it and burst out laughing.

“Oh, spare me the drama. Faking death now? How pathetic,” she sneered. “Shawn might be going to Stanford University. I’m sending him on a seven-day trip to Bali. I don’t have time to play along with you two.

“If everything goes right, he’ll get in. When we hold his entrance banquet, your dad can come and congratulate him.”

I looked at her and said coldly, “Don’t worry. Even if he aces the test, he’s not getting into Stanford.”

——

I sat beside my father's cold body, holding his lifeless hand.

The cake in front of me had long gone cold, too. It was the last thing he ever bought me.

I didn’t get the gift my mother promised after the exams. Instead, I watched her spend 200 million to transfer the villa in the city center to Mark’s son. The news of it being Shawn Spencer’s college exam gift made the headlines.

I was heartbroken.

My father saw it, too. He went out to buy me a cake and was hit by a car on the way back.

At the hospital, I overheard the nurses gossiping:

“Mark the nurse is so lucky—Miss Vaughn’s gorgeous and still so in love with him.”

“I thought she had a family! And that kid—Shawn—don’t they say he’s their child?”

“Honestly, the drama of it all... I love it!”

I turned my head. Maybe my red, swollen eyes gave something away, because they quickly lowered their voices:

“That poor father and son… Last time, Mark just scratched his finger and Miss Vaughn brought in an expert panel.”

“But for $700, she let this man die. Took her all night and still wouldn’t help. The difference in how people are treated…”

“And honestly? They didn’t look like they couldn’t afford it.”

I smiled bitterly.

Of course we had $700. But my mother had already handed all our finances over to Mark—her long-lost first love.

When she saw him again, worn down and overworked at the hospital, she lost her mind. She said Dad had taken the position Mark was meant for, that he had ruined his future.

Wracked with guilt for a man she had never stopped loving, she handed him everything.

Last night, I called Mark.

He laughed in my face.

"Parking here overnight costs 200. If you can't pay, we’ll have to send your father away some other way.”

Now, standing at the funeral home, I gripped the phone with trembling hands.

I called him directly.

If he could pick up my mother's calls, he could answer mine.

“Please return what belonged to my father. I just want to take him home.”

His reply?

“Nathaniel, do you know your mother is throwing me a birthday party tonight? And you really had to ruin it with your little drama?”