Mom was sitting on the couch, which was also my bed. She was wearing an old, patched-up shirt, the only gift Dad had ever given her. "What's wrong, Lauren? Should we call Dad home? He recently lost his job, and he should be interviewing at the job fair."

Using that excuse, Dad hadn't come home for three days. Just then, Susan updated her status. "He said I needed to socialize, so he bought a golf course for me."

Mom's hands were swollen from years of hard labor, but the hands Dad held in the picture were fair and slender.

"Mom, Dad's having an affair."

I dared not look at her and silently lowered my head.

"Lauren, how could you say such a thing?" Mom exclaimed. "He's only been away for a few days. He's doing this for the family!"

I simply pulled out my phone and showed her the buyer information for the luxury jewelry purchased today. The handwriting, his appearance, and his ID were all a perfect match.

I immediately presented more evidence.

"Mom, Dad's been faking being poor for 30 years, but he's actually filthy rich. He doesn't need to work and has tons of money."

I stared as Mom's shoulders trembled uncontrollably. Tears fell from her eyes like pearls slipping off a string.

Dad only gave her a small allowance each month. She'd paid for my school fees by humbling herself repeatedly.

Not only was she a cleaner for a wealthy family, but she even swept the streets and cleaned public restrooms. She never had a day off.

She gave everything she had for the family, but Dad never once prepared any surprises for her. He even forgot their anniversary each year, claiming, "With our situation, what's the point of celebrating our anniversary?"

Although Mom looked forward to it, she never brought it up again.

Yet, Dad remembered every single one of Susan's preferences, and every gift held meaning.

"Mom, Susan is Dad's first love. He was only faking being poor because of a joke she made."

To make her see things clearly, I was mercilessly laying out the facts.

Mom stared at my phone screen and wept.

"On your birthday, which was the 15th of this month, he not only didn't give you a gift—he didn't even come home. On the same day, he splurged at the auction house and bought Susan a pigeon-blood ruby—"

The more I spoke, the tighter my throat was.

Mom interrupted me, her voice choked with emotion. "Can I just pretend I never found out about this?"

My blood boiled.

She still wanted to defend him at a time like this?

Yet, she added, "You're his daughter. He's so wealthy, so he'll definitely take care of you. It's fine if he divorces me, as long as he treats you well."

I didn't plan on crying, but I broke down in tears, too.

The hardship and pressure of life had molded Mom into a doormat, yet Susan got whatever she wanted because my Dad spoiled her.

How was this fair?

I wiped the tears from her face and said, "Even if you divorce, I'll take him to the cleaners!"

Mom hesitated. "But he's so influential. Can we really get a divorce?"

Because we were poor, I was bullied a lot as a kid. Dad never stood up for me, which made me very vengeful. Since he owed us so much over the years, I was determined to make him pay.

I nodded. "Trust me, Mom."

I found Jennifer Aguilar's contact details. Jennifer was the famed news anchor whom Susan had ousted.

"I'll give you a juicy story that can have you restored to your initial position," I told her.

"Alright," she replied.

Yet, the purchase records alone weren't enough to prove Dad's infidelity. Susan's social media posts never revealed his face either.

Thus, using the expensive watch as an excuse, I personally paid her a visit in BC.

After I delivered the watch, she happily fished out her phone and took pictures. She then sent him a voice note. "This is my present to you. Will you pick me up at work later?"

He also responded, and Susan opened it without hesitation. "Susie, your companionship is the best gift I could ask for. You didn't have to get me a present."

Just then, Mom sent me a screenshot.

She'd asked if Dad was coming home for his birthday. She said the only gift he wanted was for her to stop nagging at him and fretting over when he was coming home.

Susan crossed her legs and chuckled softly when she saw my lowered head. "Jealous of my love life, miss? But you're just a retailer for secondhand luxury items. Blame your parents for not raising you properly."

Her words were already sarcastic, but hearing them made it worse.

Dad didn't raise me well, but he treated Susan very well.

When I entered the office building, I overheard many employees gossiping about her incompetence behind her back.

The ratings over the last few days weren't even half of what Jennifer had when she was there.

"I recently started a segment interviewing the poor like yourself. I bet it'll be fascinating."

She kept wiping the watch down with disinfectant wipes.

I had brought the item over wearing gloves, but her gaze was full of disdain for me.

It was as if my blood was tainted.

After she signed the confirmation forms, I left her office. I sat for a long time in the cafe outside BC and waited until the work day ended.

Susan strode out of the building in her heels, and my dad drove there in his sports car. The two embraced and shared a kiss, with Susan chuckling softly as she leaned into Dad's embrace.

I coldly took pictures to show Mom when I got home.

I was worried that she would cave in and beg Dad to come back.

Mom used to try to get close to Dad and be coquettish with him, too, but there was always a hint of disdain in his eyes.

When she saw those pictures, she smiled faintly. "I'm looking at houses. Once we get divorced and I get the money, we can just buy one."

Yet, before I could send all the photos to Jennifer, I received news that something had happened to Mom.

When I arrived at the scene, I didn't just see Mom lying on the ground. Susan was there too, shaking her head in dissatisfaction and facing the camera.

"You asked her such trivial questions? How are we going to boost ratings? You even brought on such a useless interviewee! She fainted from a bucket of cold water?"

I walked over to help my mother up. Her hands were ice-cold, and she was soaked through and through.

Nobody paid me any attention.

The camera footage played once more, and the host's aggressive voice spilled out.

"Do your monthly wages as a helper cover your family's expenses? It seems barely enough to make ends meet. Where's your husband? Or are you a widow raising your child alone? Your daughter must have grown up without a father's love. She might end up going down a dark path!"

A few days ago, Mom said she found an employer who paid well. She'd already signed a contract and couldn't back out. I only found out today that she'd signed with BC.

Susan wanted to exploit the poor to drive up her ratings. She wanted to see how much a poor woman could endure for her family.

Mom's response gave her both satisfaction and dissatisfaction.

Susan was satisfied because Mom endured things despite the host being harsh with her. What made her upset was that Mom collapsed after having a bucket of cold water thrown on her.

What Susan didn't know was that Mom was working herself to the bone for years. She'd refused to go to a hospital when she felt sick. She'd merely take some expired vitamins and endure everyone else's harassment.

She did this to save money and buy her daughter a house, as well as to ease her husband's burdens.

Every time I gave her money for medical treatment, she deposited it all in a bank, tucking the passbooks under my pillow.

I took a deep breath, stood up, and walked to Susan.

I then slapped her across the face.

Susan was stunned. "What the hell are you doing? You think I won't shut your shop down? Don't you know that I'm an executive director? How dare you!"

Then, she turned to look at Mom, who was behind me. "I knew you reeked of poverty," she sneered. "Turns out you're just a helper's daughter!"

I said nothing, merely slapping her once more. Then, I turned to grab her by the hair. "Apologize to my mother. Now."

Susan yelled, "What are all of you good for? I swear I'll fire you all!"

I was pulled aside. Someone mockingly commented, "You're just a kept woman! What gives you the right to be so high and mighty?"

Everyone else couldn't help but look away when they saw this.

Susan was furious. She picked up her phone and made a call. "Jason, your subordinates do not respect me!"

Just then, I sent Jennifer a message. "Bring your team to this location."

Mom, having regained some of her consciousness, was huddled in a corner, wrapped in my coat.

Susan spoke disdainfully again. "Even now, your father won't show up. Isn't he even more of a disgrace?"

Suddenly, the doors swung open, and Dad appeared outside. His eyes narrowed when he saw Susan and me standing before him.

I let out a cold snort. "Well, he is a disgrace. He's got a lowly mistress on the side."