The Cheater Father who Only Loved His Son

My dad hadn’t just cheated on my mom—he had messed with her car. The brakes had failed. My mom and I had gotten into a car accident. We had barely made it to the hospital.

While we had been fighting for our lives, my dad had signed a waiver to stop our treatment—and at the same time, he had agreed to donate our organs.

Why?

Because his mistress had given him a son. And that illegitimate son had been dying of kidney failure. It had turned out that my mom and I had been a perfect match for his transplant.

But then, I was given a second chance to live. I woke up on the day of the accident—before everything had gone wrong.

I had looked at my dad’s phony smile, at my mom’s tired face, worn down from years of sacrifice and I had made a vow:

‘This time, that cheating bastard and his mistress wouldn’t get away with it.’

——

I had always known my dad had never wanted me. Just because I had been a girl.

He had been obsessed with having a son—always saying the Marshall family legacy would die without one. As if we had been some kind of royalty.

After I had been born, my mom had gotten pregnant three more times. Each time, when the doctors had said it wasn’t a boy, my dad had forced her to have an abortion.

After so many forced abortions, my mom couldn’t have children anymore. My dad mocked her mercilessly, calling her 'a useless hen that couldn’t lay eggs'.

I wanted to run away with my mom, but she clung to the naive belief that my dad still loved us.

It wasn’t until I started middle school that he finally eased up on us—at least, he stopped hitting and shouting so much.

Later, I found out why. That was when his mistress had given birth to his precious golden child—a son.

A heartless father, a mother blinded by love and a mistress waiting in the wings to take her place. Even with this second chance at life, just thinking about it gave me a headache.

"Be careful on the way. Call me when you get there, okay?"

Hearing my dad’s fake, concerned tone made my skin crawl.

What kind of man sacrifices his own wife and daughter just to save his bastard son? Even wild animals protect their own.

But my dad? He wasn’t even human. He was worse than a beast.

As we pulled out of the driveway, I kept telling my mom, “Take it slow, Mom. Be careful.”

Before we got on the highway, I insisted that my mom pull into a repair shop near the entrance.

She shot me an exasperated look. "What's gotten into you today? Your dad just took my car for maintenance a few days ago. What could possibly be wrong with the car?"

I let out a deep sigh. "Mom, I have a really bad feeling. My heart's racing like crazy. We’re about to spend hours on the highway—what’s the harm in getting it checked just to be safe?"

Before she could argue, I turned to the mechanic. "Can you check the brakes, please?"