Chapter 3

Ryan and I were together for three years. The farthest we went was a farm in the suburbs.

That was on my birthday—my idea, of course.

He complained it was too far and didn't want to go.

We went anyway, but he spent the entire trip glued to his phone.

I thought it was work.

Looking back now, he was probably texting the other woman.

I saved all the photos to my phone.

Then I opened Venmo.

The transfer history was packed.

I screenshot everything.

Last November to now—forty-seven transfers total.

Smallest: three hundred. Biggest: two thousand.

I grabbed my calculator again.

Forty thousand dollars.

Forty. Thousand. Dollars. Damn.

I sat on the couch, staring at those numbers.

Suddenly, I couldn't help but laugh.

Three years, 50 thousand—just to keep him fed and clothed.

And he spent 40 thousand on another woman in just one year.

What a fucking deal.

I got up and walked to the balcony.

Dark out. Streetlights glowing. Everything quiet.

I pulled up my contacts, found Jessica Lane, and called.

"Em! Did you pass?"

"Yeah."

"Knew it! I told you you'd crush it!"

"Jess, I need to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"You're a lawyer. If someone tricks me out of money, can I sue them?"

"Absolutely. That's fraud. You can sue and get it back. What happened? Who ripped you off?"

"Ryan."

She went silent momentarily before asking, "How much?"

"Fifty grand."

"What!"

"I've got proof. Transfers, chat logs, photos. Everything."

"Em, don't panic. I'm coming over right now."

"Okay."

I hung up and sank back onto the couch.

Picked up Ryan's phone and scrolled through it again.

Chats, transfers, photos.

Every single one—evidence.

Proof he cheated.

Proof he owed me.

Half an hour later, Jessica showed up.

She walked in and hugged me tight.

"Em, it's okay. You're gonna be fine," she whispered.

"I'm fine." I patted her back. "Really."

She let go, studied my face. "You sure?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "I just want my money back."

She nodded. "Damn right. Let me see the evidence."

I handed her Ryan's phone.

She went through everything, focused.

"Em, this is more than enough."

"Can I really get it back?" I asked.

"Definitely. And honestly, it's not just 50 thousand."

"What do you mean?"

"You lived together two years. Paid rent, bills, groceries, everything?"

"Yeah."

"That all counts as your loss. If you can prove he knew you were paying for everything while he was cheating, that's fraud."

"So how much can I get back?"

"At least 50 grand, easy. Add in rent and living expenses over two years..." She did quick math. "We're talking at least 70 grand."

I blinked, stunned.

Seventy grand.

"And all the furniture and appliances he took—those were yours, right?"

"Yeah, I bought everything."

"How much?"

"TV was two thousand, couch three thousand, bed and mattress four thousand, closet five thousand, coffee table seven hundred, plus all the small stuff... About 30 thousand total."

"So that's one hundred thousand dollars."

One hundred thousand.

I looked at Jessica and suddenly laughed.

"Jess, you think he has any idea I'm gonna sue him?"

"No way. He probably thinks you'll just cry and let it go," Jessica grinned.

"Well, he's dead wrong."

"Hell yeah, he is." She squeezed my shoulder. "Em, just be ready. Lawsuits take time. Could be months."

"That's fine. I've got nothing but time."

"And Ryan's gonna deny everything. He might even try to blame you."

"Let him try. I'm not scared."

I glanced at Ryan's phone on the coffee table.

"I've got the evidence," I said.

Jessica nodded. "Exactly. That's what matters most."

She pulled out her own phone. "I'll start organizing everything right now. Tomorrow morning, we hit the law firm and file the case."

"Sure."

That night, Jessica and I sorted through all the evidence.

Forty-seven money transfers.

Two hundred and fifteen message screenshots.

Sixty-seven photos.

Plus my bank statements from the last two years.

Rent: 800 dollars a month for 24 months—19,200.

Living expenses: averaged one thousand a month for 24 months—24,000.

Every single receipt for the clothes, shoes, and gadgets I got for Ryan was there—6,000 dollars in total.

Throw in all the random stuff, and the total hit 50,000 dollars.

Every piece of furniture and appliance had a receipt—30,000 dollars altogether.

Altogether, the grand total was 80,000 dollars.

Eighty thousand.

Staring at that number, I almost cried.

But I blinked them away, refusing to let myself break down.

Jessica looked at me. "Em, are you really okay?"

"I'm okay." I lifted my head, forced a smile. "I just can't believe how naive I've been these three years."

"It's not on you. No one could've seen this coming."

"Yeah, who could've guessed?" I stood up. "I'll get you some water."

In the kitchen, I opened the fridge.

Half a bottle of Coke—Ryan bought it last week.

Box of strawberries I picked up two days ago.

I grabbed the strawberries, washed a few, and put them on a plate, and brought it out to Jessica.

I brought it out to Jessica. "Here."

"Thanks." She popped one in her mouth. "By the way, how are you planning to tell Ryan?"

"I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm not saying a word to him." I sat down. "I'm just gonna sue him."

"But don't you have to tell him first?"

"Nope." I looked at Jessica. "Jess, right now I just want my money back. I don't care about anything else."

Jessica looked at me and nodded. "Okay, we'll do it your way."

Jessica stayed late before finally leaving.

After she left, I sat alone in the living room, staring at the empty space.

Ryan was gone.

He'd taken all his stuff.

But this home was still mine.

I paid the rent.

I bought the furniture.

Every single thing here belonged to me.

I walked to the bedroom and opened the closet.

My clothes were still hanging inside. Perfectly organized.

I pulled out a white shirt and slipped it on.

Then I walked over to the mirror.

My reflection looked tired.

But my eyes were steady.

I stared at myself and whispered, "You got this, Emily."

Then I smiled.

Three years of struggle, and I finally made it to the other side.

Next, I was getting back every last dime.