Chapter 2
On the morning of the first day of the new year, as expected, Dad was getting ready to head out.
"Work needs me. I have to go," Dad said.
He didn't look Mom in the eye.
Mom sat at the dining table, a bowl of untouched porridge in front of her.
She hadn't slept a wink all night.
I knew because I hadn't slept either.
"Go ahead," Mom said.
Her voice was flat.
Dad hesitated for a second, clearly surprised at how smoothly it went.
He grabbed his car keys and left.
I sat down across from Mom.
"Mom," I said.
She looked at me.
Her eyes were red, but there were no tears.
"Mom, how much do you know?" I asked.
She was silent for a long time.
"I already knew about Dad and the other woman five years ago," she finally said.
I was stunned.
"Five years ago?" I asked.
"Summer 2019. His phone rang, and I picked it up. The woman thought it was him and called out, 'Hubby,'" Mom said.
"So why didn't you say anything?"
"Why didn't I speak up?" Mom let out a bitter laugh. "Would it have made any difference?"
She lowered her head, stirring the porridge in her bowl.
"You were still in college. I didn't have a job. The house was in Dad's name. If I made a fuss, I'd end up with nothing," she said.
"So you kept quiet for five years?" I asked.
"It's not about enduring," Mom replied. "I simply had no other way out."
I looked at her.
Mom was fifty-three this year.
Half her hair was already white.
Her back was bad, and bending for too long made it hurt.
Her hands were covered in calluses.
She'd never worn clothes that cost more than 70 dollars in her whole life.
She pinched every penny for this family.
And the man of this family had been keeping another woman and a kid on the side for fourteen years.
"Mom, do you know how old that kid is?" I asked.
She paused, caught off guard.
"How old?" she asked.
"Fourteen," I said.
Mom's hand froze.
"Fourteen." she whispered.
"He's fourteen years younger than me. So, the year I was born..." I started.
I didn't finish my sentence.
Mom understood.
Her face drained of color, bit by bit.
"When I was pregnant with you he was already..." Mom's voice faltered.
She couldn't bring herself to finish.
The spoon dropped onto the table with a quiet clink.
Mom buried her face in her hands.
There was no sound.
Her shoulders were trembling.
I sat down beside her and held her hand.
I didn't cry.
My mind was somewhere else.
Money.
How much had Dad poured into that other woman?
In these fourteen years, how much of all the money Mom scrimped and saved ended up going to her?
"Mom, I checked Dad's WhatsApp. He actually wired her tuition money," I said.
Mom looked up.
"How much?" she asked.
"I don't know the exact number yet. But I'm going to get to the bottom of it," I said.
I looked at her.
"Mom, our house is being torn down this year. The payout will come in right after the new year," I said.
She looked at me.
"He's not getting a single dollar from that payout," I said.
*****
On the second day of the new year, I started digging into Dad's finances.
Mom knew the passwords to Dad's bank cards.
She'd been the one handling the family finances all these years.
But Dad had a card Mom didn't know about.
How did I figure that out?
In the WhatsApp chat logs, Grace had sent a message: "Hubby, why hasn't money been transferred from the First National Bank card ending in 3367 this month?"
The First National Bank card ending in 3367.
All the cards Mom knew about were from MetroBank.
I opened the First National Bank app and tried it with Dad's ID.
Sure enough, the account popped up.
I tried three times before I got it. The password was the kid's birthday.
July 15, 2010.
071015.
I checked the transaction history.
From 2010 to 2024, that was fourteen years.
Every month, there was a regular transfer of 1,667 dollars, marked as "Grace's living expenses."
1,667 dollars × 12 × 14 = 280,000 dollars.
Two hundred eighty thousand dollars.
Every September, there was an extra transfer, anywhere from 3,333 to 10,000 dollars, with the note "Harry's tuition."
I totaled it up: 86,667 dollars.
There was also a big transfer in 2016: 116,667 dollars all at once.
The note said: "Down payment for a house."
I stared at those words.
Down payment for a house.
2016.
What happened in 2016?
Then it hit me.
In the fall of 2016, Mom's lumbar disc herniation acted up for the first time.
The doctor said she needed surgery, and it would cost between 26,667 and 33,333 dollars.
Dad said, "We don't have that kind of money. Let's try some conservative treatment first."
Mom never ended up getting the surgery.
She was on painkillers for six months straight.
The pain kept her up every single night.
It wasn't that she couldn't afford the surgery.
Her own husband took her money and bought another woman a house.
A 116,667-dollar down payment.
The surgery Mom needed was only 26,667 dollars.
He wouldn't even spend 26,667 dollars to help her.
My hands were shaking.
It wasn't fear.
It was pure rage.
I kept digging.
In 2018, there was another transfer of 40,000 dollars. The note read: "Harry's admission fee."
Admission fee.
2018 was the year I took the high school entrance exam.
I missed the cutoff for the top high schools by just six points.
If I wanted to get into the advanced class at one of those schools, it would've cost about 26,667 dollars.
Dad said, "Why spend that kind of money? Regular classes are as good."
Mom wanted to help, but all her money was in Dad's hands.
Dad said we didn't have any extra money.
No extra money.
But he dropped 40,000 dollars on his kid with the other woman, just for an admission fee.
He wouldn't even shell out 26,667 dollars for me.
I took screenshots of every single transfer record.
Then I added them all up.
Over fourteen years, how much did Dad pour into the woman he kept on the side?
Living expenses: 280,000 dollars.
Tuition: 86,667 dollars.
Down payment for a house: 116,667 dollars.
Admission fee: 40,000 dollars.
Other miscellaneous transfers: about 50,000 dollars.
Total: 573,333 dollars.
Five hundred seventy-three thousand, three hundred thirty-three dollars.
Mom spent her whole life scrimping and saving, and more than half of everything she managed to put away ended up going to them.
She thought the money stayed with us.
But it all went to someone else's home.
I wrote that number down on a piece of paper.
573,000 dollars.
I grabbed my phone and dialed.
"Cousin Emily, are you free right now? I need your help with something," I asked.
My cousin Emily is a lawyer.