Amber seemed like a harmless blast from the past—an old high school friend who admired my new life: the cozy home, the baby gifts, the crafts. I welcomed her in, even when she asked to bring a quiet friend, Melanie, to dinner. That night, Melanie took an oddly long bathroom break. Days later, my wedding earrings vanished. Then our bank account was drained.
Ben and I discovered our debit card was missing. The transactions revealed a spree. I connected the dots—Melanie’s detour wasn’t innocent. But instead of panicking, I set a trap.
I invited Amber over and calmly said we were filing felony theft charges. Her face went pale when I mentioned surveillance footage. Minutes later, she returned with my earrings, the debit card, and even a ring I hadn’t noticed was gone. She blamed Melanie, but her slip—“we didn’t even get that much”—exposed her.
I demanded full names and contact info. That night, I called their parents and gave them a choice: repay every cent or face legal consequences. They paid. Amber whined about overdraft fees. I called it karma.
Now, I visit the diner where Amber and her crew work off their debt. I sit quietly, watching them scrub tables and deal with rude customers. It’s not revenge. It’s justice. Because betrayal may wear a friendly smile—but truth always finds a way to shine.
