My ex-husband Liam’s selfishness drained our family for years—his reckless investments, dismissive attitude, and utter disregard for our daughter’s future led to a painful divorce. I hoped that ending the marriage would bring peace. I was wrong.
One night, I woke up to my daughter Danielle’s terrified scream. A man had broken into her room with a crowbar. It was Liam. He fled, but not before stealing her jewelry.
I sent Danielle to her grandmother’s and installed security cameras. Ten days later, I caught Liam again—breaking into the garage, hunting for a hidden safe he’d spotted while packing. The police arrested him.
Inside that forgotten safe? My late grandfather’s financial documents and the key to a fortune registered in my name.
In court, Liam sat small and broken. I didn’t feel pity. Just clarity.
“Thanks, Liam,” I said. “Your greed made me realize—I’m not just safe. I’m rich. And you? Enjoy prison food.”
