After the 59-year-old Father Cheated

Mario listened to me tell him about my dad's disgraceful behavior. His face turned livid. He readily agreed to my request to help look after my mom and keep her from visiting my dad too often.

After settling my mom, I headed to my dad's hospital room.

He was throwing his bowl around.

"Where's the nurse?" he yelled. "Why hasn't she come yet? Quick, help me find my wife and daughter. Where the hell have they gone?"

I walked in with a big smile on my face.

"Dad, Mom suddenly felt unwell and fainted. She can't take care of you anymore. I'll hire a caregiver for you."

My dad threw his fork at me.

"If your mom can't look after me, why can't you? What's all this about hiring someone? Is this how you repay me for raising you?

"And why are you smiling? Both your parents are sick. What's there to smile about, you ungrateful brat!"

My smile only grew wider.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just ran into Mario. He's such a nice guy. I asked him to help smooth things over at the hospital, and he agreed."

At the mention of Mario's name, my dad scowled and snorted.

Seeing his disdain, I added, "With Mario around, I can rest easy knowing you're well taken care of here."

My dad's face turned sullen. He needed a favor but couldn't show his displeasure.

"Plus, I need to sort out your early retirement paperwork," I said with a grin.

At the mention of early retirement, Dad flew into a rage. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't been listening to that damn music and delayed saving me, I wouldn't have been paralyzed. If I wasn't paralyzed, I wouldn't have to retire early. Do you know how much less my pension will be?"

I knew alright. That was what I was rejoicing.

I blinked, tears welling up. "I'm so sorry, Dad. But if I hadn't been there, you might have died."

Dad choked up. He started hurling insults at me until the other patients in the room couldn't take it anymore and told him to stop.

Then he asked for his phone.

"Is my phone with you? Give it to me. I need to use it."

I eagerly offered to help. "Dad, you can only use one hand now. It's not convenient. Tell me what you need, and I'll do it for you."

"Can't I use my damn phone with one hand? Stop yapping and hand it over!"

He could use the phone with one hand, but it would be painfully slow. Not to mention he didn't have his reading glasses.

Dad finally gave up and instructed me, "Transfer 5,000 dollars to someone named Doris Bryant."

A cold glint flashed in my eyes. He'd just been rescued, and he was already itching to send money to his mistress.

It was true love, indeed.

"Who's this person? Why so much money?" I asked casually while operating the phone.

Dad hesitated briefly but quickly came up with an excuse. "I asked someone to buy me some cigarettes. Stop asking so many questions."

And just like that, I learned my dad's payment password.

But I didn't transfer the money to his mistress. I sent it to myself instead.

Consider it compensation for my emotional distress.

I couldn't wait to see his reaction when he found out.

It wasn't until he'd been discharged and home for a while that my dad discovered I'd transferred the money to myself.

That day, I came home to find a crowd of neighbors gathered around my paralyzed father. He was slapping his thigh and pouring out his woes.

"I worked myself to the bone to support this family. If it weren't for this wretched child who was late in saving me, I wouldn't be paralyzed. She even secretly transferred away my money. Now that I'm in this state, she and her mother don't even care for me. They just abandoned me at home. I've raised her for nothing."

He was a sobbing mess, evoking sympathy from many neighbors.

Someone sharp-eyed spotted me and started criticizing me for treating my father so poorly.

I let out a cold laugh.

"My dad's getting on in years. The person he wanted me to transfer money to was an improper woman. How could I do that? Come here and see for yourself if I'm lying."

The chat history was so filthy that when the neighbor saw it, she covered her eyes and cried out "Shameless". She even spat at my dad.

My dad was dumbfounded, snot still hanging from his face. He never imagined I already knew about his affair.

"I was worried my aging dad might be getting scammed, so I took this step. And I didn't waste his money. I used it to hire a caregiver for him, but he's never satisfied. We've gone through three or four caregivers in just one month."

My dad shouted, "The garbage you found! I want to find my own."

"Oh? Have you found someone?"

I had a vague idea of what he was up to.

Dad stuck out his neck, his eyes flashing with eagerness.

"I asked a relative to help me find someone. She's younger than the ones you hired, in her forties, hardworking, and more reliable than you found."

I smiled knowingly and said, "Alright then."

Perhaps my smile was too sinister, as Dad gave me a suspicious glance.

I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.

I had such a hard time finding Doris in my past life. This time, she was walking right into my trap.

"Ugh—"

I spat out the food in my mouth and slammed my hand down on the table, my face filled with disgust. "Doris, how did you make this food so awful? How much oil did you use?"

Doris smirked, "Miss Taylor, you just don't understand. Cooking should use more oil, otherwise it won't taste good. Your dad loves my cooking."

She winked at my dad. "Mr. Taylor, isn't that right?"

My dad, who was watching TV, didn't even turn his head. "Yes! Doris' food is great."

I grabbed a napkin to wipe my mouth and started calculating on my phone.

"Doris, you've been working here for a month now. Let's settle the accounts. Originally, the three of us would use half a bucket of oil a month, but you use two buckets. I'll deduct the cost of the extra bucket from your salary.

"Just the two of you spend four thousand dollars on groceries a month? I see you only cook three vegetables and one meat dish per meal. How can it cost that much? Are you including your son's food in this?

"Oh, right, your son's water and electricity usage will be divided equally and deducted from your salary.

"This month, your son broke our toilet. The repair cost will also be deducted from your salary."

With each sentence, Doris' face darkened.

She couldn't take it anymore and angrily threw the mop she was holding, putting her hands on her hips. "Ollie, what's your problem? You're just finding excuses to deduct my salary, aren't you?"

I spread my hands. "Doris, let's be reasonable. Who brings their kid to work as a housekeeper? Your kid's food and lodging aren't free, are they? When you started, you didn't mention bringing your kid. Plus, your cooking isn't good, and you don't clean properly. You can't even do basic work. Isn't it fair to deduct your salary? If you can do the job, do it. If not, quit."

Doris twisted her body and squeezed out tears, seeking help from my dad.

"Mr. Taylor, please help me. You agreed to let me bring my kid when I started. Now Miss Taylor is using this to deduct my salary. She's deliberately making things difficult for me."

My dad picked up the cup next to him and threw it at me.

"I'm very satisfied with Doris. Don't make trouble and nitpick. If Doris leaves, you'll be in big trouble."

"Fine, Dad. Doris' salary is seven thousand dollars a month. Your pension is five thousand dollars a month. You can make up the difference yourself."

My dad's face darkened.