The taxi ride home took fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to realize that walking away wasn’t the end of something. It was the beginning. Because inside that gift box wasn’t just a wedding present. It was proof that sometimes the best revenge isn’t getting mad. It’s getting even. And trust me, what I’d wrapped up in that pretty white paper would change everything.

Three weeks before the wedding, I was standing in Murphy’s Corner Market at 9:30 at night, counting out exact change for a can of soup and a package of saltines. I had $23.47 left until my next Social Security check.