"I didn't answer your calls because I was too busy with work this time. Why hold on to this little thing forever?"

"It's fine. No need to answer anymore. You won't need to answer in the future either."

From now on, there will be no more calls.

Neither from my mother, nor from me.

"Why are you talking like that?" My dad was about to blow up, but suddenly seemed to remember something.

His face darkened, and in a low voice, he said, "What did your mom say? When is she going to give me back access to the card?"

So, he hadn't come to apologize or make amends. He had come for money.

"Dad, let me ask you a question first. Can you go to Disneyland while on a business trip?" I laughed.

My dad froze for a second, then, humiliated and enraged, he yelled, "Did your mom investigate me? You know this is an invasion of privacy, don't you?!"

I had thought he would at least feel guilty, but instead, he turned the tables and accused us. Shaking my head, I said, "Let's just eat. No need to waste this meal."

"Your mom is ridiculous! It was just a colleague on the trip, and her son insisted on going. I went along for a bit. Why blow it out of proportion?"

I focused on my meal, ignoring him.

Unable to contain himself anymore, my dad dropped the pretense. "Fine! Then let's end this. Call your mom now—I want a divorce!"

In the past, I used to look forward to having dinner with my dad.

He always claimed to be busy with work, having no time for me. The rare occasions when he took me and my mom out for a meal were times I cherished.

But later, I realized every time he said he was on a business trip, he was actually spending time with his mistress and her son.

It dawned on me that he only didn't have time for us.

I looked at my dad, now furious and fuming, and felt a mix of bitterness and irony.

This would be the last meal we ever had together.

Just then, a familiar figure approached us.

It was the mistress.

She swayed her hips as she walked over, looking down at me with a smug smile. "Mr. Jones, the dishes in the private room are ready, and the guests are waiting."

My dad's expression changed instantly. He hadn't expected her to be so bold. He quickly shot her a look. "Got it. I know. Uh... Assistant Green, go ahead and entertain the guests for now."

I let out a chuckle—so my dad was quite good at improvising.