“Pack your things,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “And get out.
I’m keeping the house.
And don’t even think about fighting me on it—I’ve already spoken to a lawyer.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He looked at me, then at Lisa, the panic in his eyes growing by the second.
I wasn’t finished. “Oh, and just so you know,” I added, my voice laced with satisfaction, “I recorded this entire conversation.
Not just for myself, but to show the world who you really are.”
His face went from white to red, but before he could say anything, I turned my back on him and walked into the house.
Within a week, he was gone—no house, no family, no reputation.
Lisa? She moved away soon after, ashamed and humiliated.
Dylan? I felt for him.
He was just an innocent kid caught in the crossfire of his parents’ betrayal.
I couldn’t punish him for their sins. So, I set up a trust fund for him. One that his father wouldn’t ever touch.
In the end, it wasn’t just karma that got him.
It was me.
And as I watched him drive away for the last time, I didn’t feel sadness.
I didn’t feel guilty. I felt peace.
The last thing he ever said to me?
“Taylor… how could you?”
I smiled.
“How could I? You tell me.”
