I went to check on my boyfriend, worried he was too sick to even text me back. But what I found shattered my trust and sent my world spinning. Days later, the last person I ever expected showed up at my door, and together, we started something that changed my life forever.
One crisp autumn day, I sat alone in my small, cozy apartment, the sunlight streaming weakly through the windows.
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The orange and red leaves outside seemed to mock my restlessness as I stared at my phone, waiting for my boyfriend, Jace, to finally show up.
He hadn’t visited in days, claiming he was just tired, but something about his excuses didn’t sit right with me.
I fiddled with the hem of my sweater, tapping my foot anxiously against the hardwood floor. Finally, I gave up and dialed his number. The phone rang a few times before he answered.
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“Hello?” Jace answered, his voice low and groggy, like he’d just woken up.
“Are you sleeping?” I asked, trying to hide the edge in my voice.
“Yeah,” he said, pausing for a second. “Sorry I didn’t text you. I just fell asleep. I’m not feeling great—might have a fever or something.”
“Oh…” I said softly, not sure what else to say.
He coughed hard into the phone, making me wince. “Look, I’ll text you later,” he muttered, his words rushed.
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“Feel bet—” I started, but the line went dead before I could finish.
Frustration bubbled up as I tapped my fingers on the table, my thoughts racing. If Jace was really sick, I couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. I’d take care of him, whether he liked it or not. That’s what girlfriends do, right?
Grabbing my coat, I headed out into the crisp autumn air, determined. The walk to the store was brisk, the kind that makes your cheeks tingle.
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Inside, I picked up fresh fruit, tea, and a box of throat lozenges, imagining how grateful Jace would be when I showed up.
Back at his building, I pressed the elevator button, adjusting the heavy bag on my arm. Usually, I took the stairs, but not today.
The elevator hummed softly as it descended, and I distracted myself by humming along to a tune stuck in my head.
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When the doors slid open, my heart stopped. There he was—Jace—with his arms around a woman I didn’t recognize.
Her face pressed against his chest, and they were so close it made my stomach churn. This wasn’t just a hug. It was something more.
“Looks like you’re feeling better,” I said, my voice louder than I intended, cutting through the quiet hallway.
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Jace’s head whipped toward me, his face draining of color. “Kate…” he stammered, his arms falling away from the woman. He stepped toward me, his hand reaching out like that would somehow fix things. “I can explain.”
His mouth opened, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t. Just don’t. If you take one more step or say one more word, I swear I’ll make you regret it.” I hurled the bag of groceries at him, the fruit spilling across the floor.
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Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked away, my heart pounding with anger and disgust.
He didn’t call after me, didn’t try to stop me, and for that, I was glad. He wasn’t worth it. Not anymore.
A few days had dragged by since I’d caught Jace in the elevator with another woman. He hadn’t bothered to call, text, or even send a pathetic apology.
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Not even a simple “I’m sorry, I’m a jerk, and I don’t deserve you.” Was that too much to ask?
It gnawed at me, this unfinished business. I couldn’t move on, couldn’t let go, because it felt like he was still lurking in my life, like a shadow I couldn’t shake.
I decided I needed closure, even if it meant facing him. So, I texted him, my fingers trembling with anger. After a few minutes, he replied.
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@Jace:
Let’s meet tonight at 6 p.m., at our café.
Our café. The place where we had our first date. The nerve. Still, I agreed.
At 6 p.m., I sat in the corner booth, the one we always chose. The warm smell of coffee and pastries surrounded me, but it brought no comfort.
Every time the door opened, I glanced up, expecting to see him. But Jace didn’t show.
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By 7 p.m., I was tapping my foot under the table, staring at the cold tea I hadn’t touched. By 8 p.m., I was furious. Finally, my phone buzzed.
@Jace:
I can’t come. I can’t stand seeing you so sad like this.
I stared at the screen, stunned by his cowardice. What did that even mean? He couldn’t stand seeing me?
He was the one who had cheated, yet he was acting like the victim. My anger boiled over.
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When I finally got home, the fury still burned in my chest. I stomped up the stairs, muttering under my breath.
Then, as I turned the corner, I froze. Standing outside my apartment was her. The woman from the elevator. She looked nervous, like she’d been waiting for me.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the hallway. I couldn’t believe she had the nerve to show up.
“I want to talk to you,” she said, her tone calm but uneasy. “I feel like I owe you… more than just a conversation.”
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I folded my arms tightly, glaring at her. “You’re a few hours late,” I snapped. “I don’t want anything to do with that jerk. You can have him.” Turning away, I fumbled with my keys, determined to shut this conversation down.
“That’s the thing—I don’t want him either,” she said, her voice firmer this time. It stopped me cold. “I finally realized what he’s really like, and I wanted to talk to someone who understands.”
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I hesitated, my hand still on the doorknob. This was absurd, completely insane. But a part of me was curious.
With a deep sigh, I turned back to her. “Fine. Come in,” I said, pushing the door open and stepping aside.
As she entered, I asked, “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Ashley,” she said softly, her eyes darting to the floor.
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“Kate,” I said, introducing myself reluctantly.
“I know,” she admitted, guilt written all over her face.
I walked to the kitchen, motioning for her to follow. “Come on,” I said. “I’d offer you tea, but I think this calls for something stronger.” I grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter and set it down.
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Ashley sat at the table, folding her hands nervously. “You didn’t know about me,” she began. “But I knew you existed. Jace told me he had a girlfriend, but he said you were awful to him. He claimed you ignored him, flirted with other men, made him feel worthless.”
“What the—?! That’s exactly what he did to me!” I burst out, anger flaring.
Ashley nodded slowly. “I see that now, after what happened when you caught us. But back then, I believed him. I thought he was going to leave you and be with me.”
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“Looks like the jerk fooled both of us,” I said bitterly, pouring the wine.
“That’s why I’m here. I don’t want him to get away with it,” she said, her voice steady.
“What are you suggesting?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Ashley smiled, a sly, mischievous grin. “Revenge,” she said simply. “You know how much of a homophobe Jace is?”
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Her words made me pause, curiosity sparking despite my anger. And that was how it all began.
Ashley and I wasted no time setting our plan into motion. We created several profiles for Jace on popular dating sites, carefully crafting his “interests” and uploading photos we had saved from his social media.
We sent flirty messages to men who seemed eager to connect, pretending to be Jace himself.
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“I’m looking for someone special,” we wrote, ending with a winking emoji. We even set up meetups at his apartment, choosing times when we knew he’d be home.
The thought of him opening his door to confused strangers made us laugh until our sides hurt.
On another site, we posted his phone number with the tagline: “Night owl? Call me between 2 and 4 a.m. for some fun.”
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Though we couldn’t track the exact number of calls, the texts we received from Jace told us everything we needed to know. “Who are these people?” “Why won’t my phone stop ringing?” His desperation fueled us to keep going.
The billboard idea was the final touch. We found ad space in the busiest parts of town and designed a bright, eye-catching poster featuring Jace’s smiling face with the caption: “Looking for a man to support and cherish.”
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Seeing the first billboard go up was priceless. We high-fived in the car, imagining his face when he spotted it.
Our phones buzzed nonstop with texts and calls from Jace. “You have to stop this,” he wrote. “Please, I’m begging you!”
Eventually, we responded.
@Me:
We can stop, but there’s one condition.
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@Jace:
I’ll do anything. Just stop.
I sent him the amount—enough for a two-week vacation to Spain. When the transfer hit my account, I sent him one last text.
@Me:
Oops, we forgot the passwords to the accounts, and the billboards are prepaid for two months 🙂
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After sending that final text to Jace, Ashley and I blocked his number. There was nothing more to say. The moment felt oddly triumphant, like closing the chapter of a bad book I’d been stuck reading for far too long.
We immediately turned our focus to planning the trip. A few days later, Ashley and I landed in Spain.
The sun was bright, the air warm, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore was the perfect soundtrack to our newfound freedom.
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We found a spot on the beach, stretched out on lounge chairs, and ordered cold sangria.
Ashley turned to me with a grin. “Best team effort ever,” she said, raising her glass of sangria. I smiled, knowing she was right.
I’d lost a terrible boyfriend but gained one hell of a friend. Revenge never tasted so sweet.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When a grouchy old man slams the door on a persistent teen, he thinks he’s rid of her for good. But when a hurricane traps them together, the storm outside reveals the truth about her shocking connection to his past.
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Felix put his head in his hands and sighed. No matter how often he went through the monthly figures for his home handyman business, he couldn’t deny the facts. He was facing another shortfall this month
Felix notices his elderly neighbor laboring to trim her overgrown yard and runs to assist. As a thank you, she thrusts an odd antique box upon him; however, Felix finds himself in serious legal hot water when her attorney calls to demand an immediate appointment.
Felix was looking over his handyman business’s monthly accounts when he heard a lawnmower snarl. When he peered out his kitchen window, he was startled to see an old woman named Mrs. McAllister using her cane as a walking aid and straining to maneuver her lawnmower with one hand.
Mrs. McAllister was crimson in the face and drenched in sweat when Felix caught up to her. She turned off the lawnmower.
“Felix…Can I help with something, please?you with? She gasped.
“Please move aside so I can assist you! To be honest, Mrs. McAllister, your son ought to be assisting you with these household tasks. It’s wrong to leave your aging mother to struggle on her own.
Felix was invited inside for a drink of lemonade by Mrs. McAllister after a tiring morning spent mowing and raking the tall, wet grass. The dirty mess of cobwebs, dirt, and trinkets in her house astounded him. Felix thought that his generous neighbor was no longer able to care for herself.
“You go now, sweetie.” On the table, Mrs. McAllister set down a glass of lemonade.
“I also want this to belong to you. This antique has been handed down through my family.
Felix scowled at the metal container she extended for him. It was quite weighty and featured a curious set of dials on the lid.
“Mrs. McAllister, I don’t need a fancy gift for such a simple task.” Felix returned the box to her hand.
Mrs. McAllister cast a disappointed glance. She demanded he take something to make up for his worries and went to get his daughter Suzie an apple-filled grocery bag. She then groaned loudly and collapsed into her armchair, obviously tired.
Felix left Mrs. McAllister to rest, insisting that she phone him the next time she needs assistance. Later on in the day, Suzie hurried up to Felix, grinning with excitement.
“Look, Dad! I found something under the apples that Mrs. McAllister gave us!” She pointed out to him the same weird metal box. “I can’t open it, but I think these dials are a combination lock.”
“Suzie, I know you adore vintage puzzle boxes and stuff, but we’re not keeping this.” He extended his hand to grasp the package. “I will give it back to Mrs. McAllister.”
Felix insisted even though Suzie was furiously unhappy. With the box in hand, he marched back to Mrs. McAllister’s house, but she did not answer the door. He groaned in frustration and reached for the door handle. He stepped inside after shouting to Mrs. McAllister that he was returning her box safely.
The body of Mrs. McAllister was hunched over in the recliner. Her eyes were empty and unseen as they gazed at the wall.
“Mrs. McAllister!” Felix hurried to her side and yelled, but it was too late—Mrs. McAllister had vanished.
It wasn’t until much later that Felix noticed the box was in his pocket. He looked for comparable antique boxes on the internet on a whim. When he eventually located a match, he cursed.
This was a $250,000 box!
Felix couldn’t return the package even though he hadn’t wanted to, and Suzie’s future would be guaranteed by that sum of money. For the benefit of Suzie, he had to sell it. Felix put the box somewhere safe in the interim. Felix received an odd phone call a few days later.
“This is Tim, the attorney for Mrs. McAllister. I would like to schedule a meeting with you right away. Are you free right now?
Felix was cautious about Tim’s haste, but he agreed to meet the lawyer at a town cafe. He was interested as to why Tim wanted to see him, despite his discomfort. When he came and found Henry, the son of Mrs. McAllister, sitting at a table with the man who had to be Tim, his uncertainty only deepened.
Felix joined them, and Henry sent him a look. Felix, allow me to get right to the point. A priceless heirloom—a tiny box with few dials on the lid—has vanished from my mother’s home. Since you were the last person in her home, I wanted to give you an opportunity to act morally.
“You believe I took something from your mom?” Felix bellowed. “Mrs. McAllister gave me the box as a token of appreciation for mowing her lawn—a duty you ought to have performed for her!”
“You would never have gotten that box from Mom!” Felix was stabbed by Henry with his finger. It was commissioned from a renowned artisan by my great-great-grandfather, a well-known politician! There are just two in the entire globe! I’ll give you $1,000 for the box if you return it to me. Alright?
“No.” Felix got to his feet. “When I put it up for auction, you are welcome to participate in the bidding. Henry, good bye.
Felix took the box to a nearby auction house the following day to have it valued. Mr. Whitaker, a serious guy with a snobbish accent, summoned him to an assessment in a back room. Ellen, a woman, also joined them.
Mr. Whitaker stated, “I can confirm right away that the craftsman’s mark on the underside is genuine.” That implies, sir, that this is a really noteworthy piece. One of just two worldwide.
Ellen bent to look inside the box. That is really beautiful.Could you please show me your provenance paperwork?
“Pardon me?” Felix queried.
A muscle in the woman’s cheek quivered. “Any verifiable document that demonstrates the authenticity of the artifact and your ownership, or a certificate of authentication, must be provided.”
Felix lied, saying, “Uh…I left all that stuff at home.” He objected to the direction this appraisal had gone. After removing the package from the table, he made his way toward the door. “I’ll go get it and come back right away.”
“You cannot be allowed to do that.” Ellen moved to the side, obstructing his way to the door.
“We have a duty to report any…discrepancies involving objects associated with historical personalities to the relevant authorities.”
Felix went into a panic. He swerved to avoid the woman and Mr. Whitaker, then shot out into the corridor. As soon as he arrived at the reception area, an alarm went off.
Felix ducked and slid past guards who were scrambling to stop him, feeling as though he was back on his high school football field. He sprang away from the grip of one and bolted out of the building onto the street. From then, he ran until his legs were completely numb.
Felix walked his living room, considering what to do. In order to put money into Suzie’s future, he had to sell the box, but he needed some sort of paperwork to make it happen.
He wished he could find out from Mrs. McAllister. She would likely be able to supply the precise documentation he required to show provenance as well as know exactly what they were. Felix thought for a moment, thinking there might be a market for the box. He didn’t want to do it, but he was stuck with no other option.
Felix went through his toolboxes and picked out a few necessary items, then went to the garage to get his boltcutter. Felix broke into Mrs. McAllister’s residence after Suzie went to bed that evening in order to find the documents he need.
Felix felt a shiver run down his spine as he entered Mrs. McAllister’s bedroom. The smell in here was still hers. He forced himself to see into her personal space even though it felt intrusive and spooky. The light in the bedroom came on while he was halfway across the space.
“You’re not so mighty and high now, Felix?” Henry snarled from the entrance.
Felix pivoted. Felix had a flash in his eyes as Henry snapped pictures of him with his phone raised.
Felix covered his face with a raised hand. Henry, this isn’t how it looks. All I need is—
“I know the paperwork for the box.” Henry grinned. “The auction house contacted me after you attempted to swindle them since my family is known to have a link to that box. I told them, of course, that you took it.
“That is untrue!”
“But without the right paperwork, it’s impossible to prove ownership.” Henry filled the entryway with his stance, arms crossed. “Neither can you sell it. I’ll give you till tomorrow at eight in the morning to turn it in; if not, I’ll phone the police.
Felix took out running from Mrs. McAllister’s house as Henry moved aside. He was burdened by the implications he now had to face. The day he discovered Mrs. McAllister dead, he wished he had left the box at her home.
However, she had desired it for him! Felix didn’t think Henry would follow through on his promise to turn over the box. Ideas were flying through his head. He knew what he had to do by daylight.
He woke Suzie and instructed her to hurriedly pack her bags, then requested his mom to come over right now. They were all gathered at the front door a few hours later. Now that he had covered everything, it was time to say their goodbyes.
Felix handed Suzie the box. “As soon as you can, sell it. Please don’t accept anything less than $100,000 for it. The only way to escape this disaster and yet make sure you have the best possible life is to do this.
Tightly hugging his daughter, Felix fought back the tears that threatened to well up in his eyes. One of the toughest things he had ever had to do in his life was say goodbye to her.
“Suzie, I know you’ll have a wonderful life,” he added, gazing into her eyes. “Travel to see what the world has to offer and study hard so you can make something of yourself.” Observe your grandmother.Family is vital, and we should show respect for the elderly.
In the distance, police sirens sounded. Half an hour had passed since Henry’s deadline at 8:30 a.m. He had a suspicion that those sirens were pursuing him. He kept his eyes on Mom and Suzie as they pulled out of the driveway, hearing the police sirens becoming closer. When the police detained him, he found some solace in the fact that they were out of this mess.
Legal complications hampered the allegations against Felix, despite Henry’s threats. The absence of the box cast doubt on several crucial aspects of Henry’s case. Felix waited for his court date in a detention cell for four months. A guard informed him one day that someone had paid his bail.
Felix was genuinely perplexed. Suzie was waiting for him in the front portion of the prison, where he followed the man. Together, they strolled outdoors. Mom was waiting for them, parked at the curb.
Felix replied, “Okay, Suzie, I can’t wait any longer,” as they climbed into the vehicle. “What’s happening?”
“Well, I ignored your advice regarding the box.” Suzie gave a shy smile. Rather, I discovered how to open it. There was a note from Mrs. McAllister along with an authentication certificate inside. Dad, she genuinely wanted that package to belong to you. That was stated in the note.
Felix scowled. Suzie wasn’t done, so he didn’t have much time to consider Mrs. McAllister’s request that he take the box, even though he still didn’t comprehend it.
“I showed your lawyer the note, and after that, I brought the box containing all the documents to an antique dealer.” Suzie gave this big smile. “He gave us enough money to post bail, and we have an additional $100,000!”
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