I Saw My Mom in His Family Photo

Everyone in college has gone home for winter break. A guy from the next class shares a photo in our group chat, bragging about his Christmas gift—ten thousand and one 100-dollar bills. The entire group chat goes wild. I jump on the bandwagon, sending a couple of envious memes before tapping on the photo to zoom in. Ten thousand and one consecutive bills. But my eyes lock onto the family portrait peeking out from the edge of the frame. The woman in the photo… is Mom? I dial her number immediately. "Hey Mom, what Christmas gift are you going to get me this year?" On the other end of the line, her laughter falters. Then she replies casually, "Same as always—200 dollars. It's just a formality anyway. Why do you ask?" I force a smile and tell her it's nothing. I hang up and immediately hail a cab to that guy's house. Chapter 1 Ten minutes later, I arrived at the student's neighborhood. The security guard at the gate stopped me. "Can I help you, sir? Who are you here to see? Do you have an appointment? This is a high-end community. We can't let you in without a resident's approval." I looked at him and opened my mouth. "I'm looking for my mother. Anna—" Before I could finish speaking, the guard suddenly snapped to attention and shouted past my shoulder, "Good afternoon, Mr. Mercado!" I turned around just as a white BMW sped past, splashing mud all over me. "Who's that?" I asked. The guard replied, "That's Mr. Mercado. His wife owns the largest penthouse in the neighborhood. She's a big deal. Annalise Fowler, the incoming CEO of Orion Tech. I've worked here for three years, and I see Ms. Fowler driving her husband and son home almost every day." "Every day?" I repeated. The guard smiled. "Well, not literally every day. She travels for work sometimes. But they have a son in college. Whenever the semester starts or ends, you always see the two of them picking him up or dropping him off. They're incredibly close." I looked toward where the car had disappeared, unable to smile. Because in my memory, Mom was always too busy. When I first left for college, Dad had packed all my bags and asked Mom to drive me. But right before we left, she got a call from a client, told me that something had come up at work, and rushed off. During my first winter break, I couldn't get a flight and had to take a grueling ten-hour train ride. Mom promised she'd be there when I got off. But I ended up waiting at the station from 6:00 to 9:00 pm, only to receive a curt text. "In a meeting. Don't disturb." I spent three hours shivering in the cold and came down with a high fever that night. Through my delirium, I heard Mom telling Dad, "I only work this hard to give you two a better life." Dad came from money, while Mom had clawed her way up from nothing with Grandpa's support. Growing up, I always believed she devoted herself to her career to prove herself worthy of Dad and to keep others from looking down on her. She had repeated that line to us countless times over the 19 years of my life. But now… I watched the BMW park. A well-dressed man wearing an expensive watch stepped out. Behind him was a young man about my age. That was Harold Mercado. Then, the driver's side door opened. A woman in business attire stepped out and naturally leaned into the man's embrace. Harold took her arm, affectionately calling her "Mom". "See? That's Ms. Fowler," the guard said. "They're a perfect family, aren't they?" Chapter 2 The guard nodded in Mom and Harold's direction and asked, "Anyway, who did you say you were looking for again? Anna something?" My eyes locked onto Mom's hand, which was tightly intertwined with that man's. The words forced their way past my teeth, cold and deliberate. "Annalise Fowler—my dad's legal wife, my biological mother, and the deputy CEO of Orion Tech." As the words left my mouth, the woman across from me seemed to sense something and snapped her head around. The moment I saw her turn, my reflexes kicked in, and I ducked behind the security booth. Mom didn't see me. She frowned in confusion, then wrapped her arm around the man and Harold before heading inside. I pulled out my phone, snapped a photo of their backs, and immediately sent it to Grandpa, who was currently abroad. "Grandpa, Mom cheated." My voice shook. "She even has a child with that man. I'm going to tell Dad and make sure Mom leaves with nothing!" Silence stretched over the line before Grandpa finally spoke. He sent me a contact number for one of the top lawyers in the country. "Get in touch with him. I'm booking the next flight back." I hung up, ignored the guard's bewildered stare, and hailed a cab home. That day was Christmas Eve, and Dad was in the kitchen making dinner. Mom had a bad stomach, and the doctor had recommended a bland, clean diet. To take care of her, Dad forced himself to change from a pampered, wealthy heir into a master chef who could prepare every kind of dish. If Mom liked it, Dad learned how to make it. He had been doing this for 19 years now. Next March would mark their 20th wedding anniversary. Yet, I had just discovered Mom's affair. My eyes stung fiercely as I walked up behind Dad. He had just turned 50. He kept himself in great shape and barely had any wrinkles—the picture of a man who had lived a comfortable life. But his hands told a different story. His nails were slightly yellowed, his palms calloused, and the backs of his hands were scarred from old grease burns and blisters. They were all from cooking for Mom. "Dad," I called out. He turned around. The moment he saw the tears in my eyes, he panicked. "Charlie, what's wrong? Who messed with you? Tell me. I'll—" "It's Mom." I sniffled, my voice completely hoarse. "What?" Dad froze. I looked at him and forced a bitter smile. "Dad, Mom's having an affair. I just saw the guy. They have a son my age." Wiping away my tears, I mechanically pulled the file compiled by Grandpa's lawyer from my backpack and flipped through the pages in front of Dad. "The guy is named Carlos Mercado. He's from the same village as Mom. They first hooked up eight days after your wedding. Mom went back to her hometown, and that night, they ended up in bed together." Dad went entirely pale, refusing to believe it. "T-That's impossible. Your mother treats me so well." I laughed, but my eyes were swollen from crying. "Oh, she treats you great. For your first anniversary, she rented out an entire field of flowers for you. It even made the local news back then. "But Grandpa's lawyer just told me that Mom had given that same flower field to Carlos three days prior. What she gave you was nothing more than a hand-me-down gesture. "And remember when Mom was pregnant? Grandpa told me how much you hated seeing her suffer from morning sickness. You'd wake up before dawn every day to make her soup, and you wouldn't sleep until she did. "But right after her postpartum recovery, she claimed that she needed a vacation to clear her head. She had actually spent it sleeping with that man in a villa just six miles from our house. That's exactly when their bastard son was conceived." Chapter 3 I said, "As for the second baby she lost…" I paused for a few seconds. At this moment, the old scar on my left hand seemed to throb with a dull ache. "When I was five, Mom found out she was pregnant again. She was thrilled and insisted you take her back to her hometown. On the highway, a truck lost control and rammed us into the guardrail." That had been the darkest moment of our lives. Five-year-old me was pinned under the backseat. My left arm was broken, and all I could see was blood. Meanwhile, Dad was in the passenger seat with glass embedded in his neck and chest, completely knocked out. In that critical moment, Mom was the first to crawl out of the wreckage. Risking her life, she crawled back in to drag Dad and me out of the overturned car. Unsurprisingly, she miscarried. "The evidence the lawyer found shows that Mom had orchestrated that crash." I closed my eyes as a wave of hopeless, icy dread washed over me. I would never forget that day. My left hand required 38 stitches, and Dad was taken into the operating room. He didn't come out until the next day. And the first thing he did after waking up was kneel beside Mom's hospital bed and apologize repeatedly. Because of that crash, my left hand carried a scar that would never fade. Dad could never exercise intensely again, and he had spent the last 14 years drowning in guilt over the lost baby. Meanwhile, Mom's heroic rescue earned Grandpa's absolute trust. Within five years, she had risen to Orion Tech's executive ranks. Now, Grandpa was just one step away from retirement and handing the entire family empire over to her. Fortunately, it wasn't too late. I opened my eyes and tightly gripped Dad's hand. He could barely stand. He was leaning heavily against the kitchen counter, his entire body trembling. "Charlie, what do we do?" he whispered. Before I could answer, my phone rang. It was Mom calling. Her voice was tense and laced with the irritation of someone whose plans had just been thoroughly derailed. "Charlie, why didn't you tell me your grandpa was flying back? I have work tonight! My entire schedule is ruined. Make sure your dad gets dinner ready. Whether I become the CEO depends entirely on tonight. I'm on my way back." Then, the line went dead. As she hung up, a plan crystallized in my mind. "Dad, I have an idea." I opened my dorm's group chat, found Harold's number, and sent him a "Hi". Then I contacted Mom's driver and threatened him with dismissal unless he cooperated. "Bring Carlos and Harold to my house at 7:00 pm tonight. Tell them it's for a family reunion dinner." If Mom wanted to please Grandpa that badly, then I was going to let him see exactly what kind of man she was keeping on the side. Grandpa's flight landed at 6:00 pm. By 5:30 pm, Mom was already waiting at the airport. Since she was the daughter-in-law Grandpa had groomed and elevated, her fear of him was hardwired into her bones. At 6:30 pm, they arrived home. Before she even crossed the threshold, Mom warmly pulled a thick envelope from her pocket. "Charlie, here's your Christmas gift." I opened it. Inside were exactly 101 crisp 100-dollar bills—a traditional gesture signifying one in a million. Then, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, she presented Dad with a luxury watch. Her face was full of tenderness as she said, "Noel, you've worked so hard these past few years. I picked this out as your Christmas gift. Thank you for taking such good care of our family all these years." If this had happened in the past, Dad's eyes would have welled with tears of gratitude right then and there. Chapter 4 When Mom and Dad were dating, Mom had absolutely nothing, but she offered her so-called devotion, and Dad fell for it. Now, Dad merely glanced at the watch and smiled politely, but didn't reach for it. I had seen that exact watch in a storefront window while out grocery shopping with Dad. It was a clearance item that didn't cost much. Mom looked awkward. Her hand hovered in the air for a second before she turned to Grandpa, wearing an embarrassed smile. "Dad, Noel is just being shy." Those words made Dad and me laugh. But Mom was still entirely consumed with sucking up to Grandpa. She pointed to a family portrait hanging on the wall and said, "Dad, look. We took this for Charlie's birthday. See how happy they look." I remembered that day perfectly. To celebrate my birthday, Dad had booked a restaurant two weeks in advance. He had told Mom that the one thing I wanted was a limited-edition gaming console and reminded her to make sure she bought it. Yet, Mom still showed up empty-handed. She claimed she was too busy with work and had no time, saying I was old enough to know better than to ask for a game console. I choked down dinner that night through my tears. The next day, to comfort me, Dad forced her to take that family portrait. Yet, in Mom's eyes, this was somehow proof of our happy family. I scrolled through Harold's Instagram expressionlessly. On December 21st—my birthday—he had posted a photo flaunting that exact gaming console. The caption read, "The best mom ever bought me the best gift ever." Best mom? What a joke. I smirked and retreated toward the kitchen. Mom was now pointing at the calendar on the wall. "Next year is our 20th anniversary. I'm planning to take Noel to Maravelle for a honeymoon. I've already got it all mapped out. Dad, you don't have to worry. I'll always treat Noel right." Maravelle was the one place Dad had dreamed of visiting since the very first year of their marriage. The first year he brought it up, Mom said she was just finding her footing at Orion Tech and needed to focus on work. So, she told him to wait. The second year, Mom got pregnant. Dad learned that the resort there was great for expectant mothers and suggested going. But Mom claimed that traveling far while pregnant was a bad idea and told him to wait for the sake of the baby. The third year, I was born. Before Dad could even ask, Mom coldly told him that she had already been to Maravelle and that going again would be boring. She told him to forget about it. So year after year, Maravelle remained a dream Dad could never reach. Hearing Mom bring it up again, Dad's eyes glazed over for a split second. But a moment later, I pulled up Harold's Instagram to show him the truth. "Dad, Mom took Harold and his dad to Maravelle. Eight times." The earliest trip was 17 years ago, when Mom was pregnant with her bastard son. The most recent was just last week. Harold had posted a side-by-side comparison of an old photo and a new one. The caption read, "Time can't erase love." I gripped Dad's hand and asked, "Do you still want to go to Maravelle?" Dad froze for a moment before a bitter smile appeared on his face. "No. Never again." I smiled back, my vision blurring with tears. Finally, Mom got to the point. "Dad," she said to Grandpa, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Didn't you say you'd retire after Christmas and hand Orion Tech over to me? I was wondering when we could—" But before she could finish her sentence, the doorbell rang. Annoyed, Mom turned and opened the door. The next second, she froze entirely in place. "Mom, who's at the door?" I asked, smiling brightly as I linked arms with Dad and Grandpa.