I’m the kind of person who believes in fairness. I work hard, treat people with respect, and expect the same in return. But sometimes, life throws you a betrayal so big, so shameless, that you don’t just get mad—you get even.
Here’s the thing. I actually thought my marriage was solid. Jeremy and I were young, in love, and determined to build a life together. We had an agreement: everything was split 50/50—rent, groceries, bills, all of it.
Jeremy was the one who found our apartment.
“Baby, you’ve got to see this place,” he had gushed over the phone, excitement practically spilling through the speaker. “It’s perfect for us.”
I smiled at the enthusiasm in his voice. “Perfect how?”
“Two bedrooms, a modern kitchen, and that balcony you always wanted. And we get this at just $2,000 a month… not bad for this area.”
Later that day, he showed me around, his eyes shining as he pointed out every feature like a realtor selling a dream home.
I turned in his arms, kissed him softly, and whispered, “Sounds perfect.”
Everything seemed perfect. The paperwork, the payments, the so-called landlord—there wasn’t a single red flag.
Then came a random December night, a busted elevator, and a conversation that shattered my entire reality.
After a grueling twelve-hour hospital shift, I dragged myself into the elevator, my feet aching in my heels.
“Hey!” she chirped, then tilted her head curiously. “Oh, I know you! You live in Lorrie and Jeremy’s apartment, right?”
Her words hit like a slap. “Lorrie?”
“Yeah, Jeremy’s mom. She and her son bought that place years ago when the building first opened. Such a smart investment, you know! She was always talking about it at the building meetings.”
“Oh yes, she never missed one. Always going on about property values and how they made such a killing when the previous tenants moved out. Then Jeremy moved in with his ex… though that didn’t last long. And now you!”
My grip tightened on the elevator rail. “His ex lived here too?”
Taylor’s cheerful expression faltered. “Oh… oh no. You didn’t know? I mean, Lorrie always brags about how well the arrangement works, having family manage the property… She was on the building board and everything.”
“Nancy?” Taylor reached out, her face shifting to concern. “You’ve gone completely white. I’m so sorry, I thought you knew.”
My voice came out hoarse. “No,” I mumbled, stepping out. “But I’m certainly glad I do now.”
My ears were ringing as I walked down the hallway. Jeremy and his mother owned the apartment?
For two years, I had been handing over half the rent, thinking we were paying it together. But there was no landlord. No rental agreement. It had all been a lie.
He had been pocketing my money.
Or, more accurately, splitting it with his mother.
For two years, I had unknowingly handed them $24,000 of my hard-earned cash, believing I was contributing to a shared home.
I needed to sit down. I needed to breathe. And I needed to figure out exactly how I was going to burn Jeremy’s world to the ground.
They had scammed me.
My phone buzzed. A text from Jeremy: “Grabbing drinks with Mom. Don’t wait up. Love you!”
I stared at the screen, my heart pounding with quiet fury. I swiped through my photos, landing on one from last Christmas. There we were, Jeremy and I, sitting on his mother’s couch, her famous eggnog in our hands. Smiling. Celebrating. The entire time, they had been robbing me blind.
I tapped my best friend’s name in my contacts.
“They own it,” I said the moment she picked up. “The whole time, they owned it.”
“What? Who owns what?”
“Jeremy and his mother. They own the freaking apartment. They’ve been charging me rent for an apartment they own.”
Her sharp inhale was all I needed to hear.
“Oh my God! Really?”
“Two years, Sarah. TWENTY-FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS.”
Her voice turned steely. “Oh, Nancy, you poor thing. They won’t get away with this.”
I smirked. “Of course not!” I said, hanging up.
But now I knew better.
Jeremy had forged it.
He and his mother had been collecting my money, splitting it between them, probably laughing at my stupidity all along.
I clenched my jaw and grabbed my phone.
“Hey, babe,” I asked sweetly when Jeremy picked up. “When’s the rent due again?”
“December 28,” he answered casually.
I smiled to myself.
Perfect.
Because I had just decided exactly how I was going to make him pay.
Step one: The Setup.
“Baby,” I called out one evening, mixing batter in the kitchen. “your mom invited us for dinner on Sunday. Should I make that butterscotch pie she loves?”
Jeremy looked up from his phone, flashing me a grin. “You’re the best, you know that?”
I laughed, playfully rolling my eyes. “Oh, I know!”
That Sunday, I sat at his mother’s dining table, passing the mashed potatoes, smiling like I didn’t know she was a thief.
I kept my expression smooth. “Oh, I just got some good news at work,” I said lightly. “Huge bonus coming up. Jeremy and I might even have enough saved for a down payment soon.”
They exchanged glances, smug and satisfied.
Jeremy squeezed my hand under the table. “That’s wonderful, sweetie,”
I tilted my head, offering the sweetest smile I could muster. “But maybe we should keep renting for now. The market’s not great for buying.”
“Of course,” I said simply, taking a sip of my wine. “Why rush into buying when we have such a great rental situation, right?”
Lorrie nearly choked on her coffee.
But behind the scenes? I was getting ready to destroy him.
And then, step two arrived—December 28, aka “The execution.”
Jeremy kissed me goodbye that morning, grabbing his favorite coffee mug—the last cup he’d ever drink in my apartment.
I smiled sweetly, barely able to contain myself. “Love you too, honey,”
Just before he stepped out, I called after him. “Oh, and Jeremy?”
Jeremy turned, eyebrows slightly raised.
“You really should have married an idiot.”
His face scrunched in confusion. “What?”
I shrugged, my grin widening. “Nothing,” I sang. “Have a great day at work!”
As soon as he was gone, I got to work.
Then, I went to the bank.
We had a joint account where my paycheck had been deposited every month. And just as Jeremy had been stealing from me, I decided it was time to return the favor.
I emptied it. Every last cent.
But I wasn’t done.
I had already signed the lease on my new apartment, a small but beautiful place across town. The first month’s rent? Paid in full—with Jeremy’s money.
And now, for the final act.
No couch. No TV. No dishes. Just silence.
Except for one thing.
A single letter, taped to the living room window.
I imagined the exact moment he tore it down, his breath hitching as he read my words:
“Dear Jeremy,
Hope you enjoy YOUR apartment. Since you and your mother had such fun scamming me for two years, I figured it was time to return the favor.
My new apartment’s rent for January is already paid — by you.
And don’t bother calling. I blocked you.
Happy New Year, loser.
—Nancy”
Then I powered off my phone and walked into my brand-new apartment—the place I would call home long after I filed for divorce.
She looked awful—her eyes hollow, her skin pale, like she hadn’t slept in days.
“Nancy,” she grabbed my shopping cart, desperation in her voice. “Please, let me explain —”
I crossed my arms. “Explain what, Lorrie? How you and your son stole $24,000 from me? How you sat across from me at dinner every Sunday, asking when I was going to give you grandchildren, while you were robbing me blind?”
Her lips trembled. “We were going to tell you —”
I tilted my head, my voice calm and steady. “Funny how karma works, isn’t it?”
I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to let me finish my shopping. Then you’re going to go home and tell your son that if he doesn’t agree to my divorce terms, including full repayment of every cent I paid in rent, I’ll be filing fraud charges against both of you.”
Lorrie’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“You wouldn’t —”
I smirked. “Try me.”
Then I grabbed my cart and walked away.
Jeremy had agreed to everything—full repayment, plus interest.
My phone buzzed. A text from Taylor: “Saw your ex today. He looked miserable. Lorrie’s selling her unit and moving to Florida. Building meetings won’t be the same without her drama!”
I smirked, lifting my glass in a silent toast to myself. The view outside my window wasn’t as grand as my old place, but somehow, it felt infinitely sweeter.
I never answered.
His mother tried, too. Blocked.
Then came the messages from mutual friends, telling me how Jeremy was losing it—ranting about how I had “stolen HIS money.”
The irony was delicious.
Did I feel bad?
Not even a little.
Because for two years, I had been their fool. For two years, they had taken from me without a second thought.
Now? I was the one laughing.
And if a man ever tries to play you, make damn sure you play him harder.
Because in the end, scammers get what they deserve. And I made sure Jeremy and his mother got theirs.
Living well in an apartment you actually own, paid for with the money you got back from the people who tried to steal from you.
Some might call it cruel. I call it justice.
And that butterscotch pie?
Worth every granule of the “special” ingredient.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,”, and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.