Rich Dad, Poor Dad? More Like Goodbye, Dad

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."