“Don’t stay out too late. And remember, homework first when you get back,” I called after him as he stormed out the door, not waiting for my reply.
It was just another day in the life I’d been patching together since Silas left. Balancing the responsibilities of raising two kids alone while trying to keep a roof over our heads wasn’t easy.
My work at the call center helped, but it wasn’t exactly my dream job. It was a job, though, and in times like these, that’s all that mattered.
That’s when Emery, the new neighbor in her early 30s, knocked on my door. I opened it to see her, eyes red-rimmed, looking like she hadn’t slept in days.
“Hey, Prudence, can I ask you for a huge favor?” she said, her voice cracking slightly.
I nodded, stepping aside to let her in. “Sure, Emery. What’s going on?”
She sighed, sinking into the couch like she was about to collapse. “I had this crazy party last night, and then I got called out of town for work. The place is a disaster, and I don’t have time to clean it up. Could you, um, help me out? I’ll pay you, of course.”
I hesitated, glancing at the clock. My shift was due to start in a couple of hours, but the idea of earning some extra cash was tempting. Lord knows we could use it.
“How much are we talking about?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.
“Two hundred and fifty dollars,” she said quickly. “I just really need the help, Prudence. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”
“Alright,” I agreed after a moment. “I’ll do it.”
“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” Emery hugged me quickly before rushing out, leaving me to wonder what I’d just signed up for.
Emery’s house was a wreck, and that’s putting it mildly. It looked like a tornado had blown through it, with empty bottles, plates with half-eaten food, and trash strewn everywhere.
I stood in the middle of her living room, hands on my hips, trying to figure out where to even begin.
Two days. It took me two solid days of scrubbing, sweeping, and hauling garbage out of that house. By the time I was done, my back ached, and my hands were raw. But I kept reminding myself of that $250 Emery promised. That money would go a long way for us.
When Emery finally got back, I marched over to her place, ready to collect.
“Emery, it’s done. Your house is spotless,” I said, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. “So, about the payment…”
She blinked at me like I was speaking another language. “Payment? What payment?”
I frowned, my heart sinking a little. “The $250 you promised for cleaning up your house. Remember?”
Emery’s expression shifted into one of confusion, then annoyance. “Prudence, I never agreed to pay you anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
For a moment, I just stood there, dumbfounded. “You… what? You said you’d pay me! We had an agreement.”
“No, we didn’t,” she snapped. “Look, I’m late for work, and I really don’t have time for this.” She pushed past me, heading towards her car.
“Emery, this isn’t right!” I called after her, but she was already backing out of her driveway, not giving me a second glance.
As I watched Emery’s car disappear down the street, I stood there, fuming. How could she just walk away like that?
Two days of back-breaking work, and she had the nerve to pretend like we never made a deal. I could feel my anger bubbling up, but I knew better than to act on impulse.
I went back to my house, slammed the door behind me, and paced the living room, trying to think. Connie was playing with her dolls on the floor, and Damien was still out with his friends. I didn’t want to drag my kids into this mess, but I also wasn’t about to let Emery get away with it.
“Alright, Prudence, you’ve got to be smart about this,” I muttered to myself. I looked out the window at Emery’s house and an idea started to form in my mind. It was risky, but I was beyond caring at that point. If she wanted to play dirty, I could get down in the mud too.
Twenty minutes later, I was at the local garbage dump, pulling on a pair of old gloves I kept in the car. I wasn’t proud of what I was about to do, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
I loaded up my trunk with as many garbage bags as I could fit, the stench nearly making me gag. But I gritted my teeth and kept going.
On the drive back, I kept replaying our conversation in my head, her dismissive tone, her refusal to acknowledge what she’d promised. The more I thought about it, the more justified I felt.
She didn’t even have the decency to respect the hard work I’d put into cleaning her filthy house. Well, she was about to see just how dirty things could get.
When I pulled up in front of Emery’s house, the street was quiet. No one was around to see me pop the trunk and start hauling the garbage bags to her front door. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through me as I worked quickly.
It was then I realized something: Emery had forgotten to take her house key back from me. She was in such a hurry when she left, she didn’t even think about it.
I hesitated for a moment. But then I thought of the look on her face when she told me there was no agreement, the way she dismissed me like I was nothing. I wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house was still spotless, just as I’d left it, but that was about to change. One by one, I tore open the garbage bags, dumping the contents all over her floors, her counters, and even her bed. Rotten food, old newspapers, dirty diapers: everything mixed in a disgusting heap.
“This is what you get, Emery,” I muttered under my breath as I emptied the last bag. “You wanted to play games, well, game on.”
I closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it, and slipped the key under her welcome mat. As I walked back to my car, I felt a strange surge of satisfaction and guilt. But I shook it off. Emery had brought this on herself.
That evening, just as I was putting Connie to bed, I heard furious banging on my front door. I knew who it was before I even opened it.
“Prudence! What the hell did you do to my house?!” Emery screamed, her face red with anger.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe, playing it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emery. How could I have gotten into your house? We never had any agreement, remember? So, I never had the keys to your house.”
She stared at me, speechless for a moment, before her face twisted in rage. “You—you’re lying! I’m calling the police! You’re going to pay for this!”
I shrugged, not breaking eye contact. “Go ahead and call them. But how are you going to explain how I got in? You can’t because according to you, I never had the key.”
Emery opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. She looked like she was about to explode, but all she could do was turn on her heel and storm off, muttering something under her breath.
I watched her go, my heart still pounding, but this time it wasn’t just from anger. There was a sense of justice, of balance restored.
I didn’t know if she’d call the police, but I wasn’t worried. Emery had learned a valuable lesson that day: don’t mess with Prudence.
As I closed the door, I let out a long breath, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. I knew I’d crossed a line, but in that moment, it felt like the only way to make things right.
Sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself, even if it means getting your hands dirty. And as for Emery? Well, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be asking me for any more favors anytime soon.
Do you think I handled things well? What would you have done differently in my place?
I Met My Ex-fiancé Who Dumped Me Because I ‘Wasn’t Good Enough’ – He Was on a Date & My Revenge Was Hard
Hi everyone, I’m Nikki, and I want to share a story about how sometimes karma just needs a little nudge. It all began when I spotted my ex-fiancé at a fancy restaurant with another woman. What started as an ordinary night out for me turned into a delicious opportunity for sweet revenge.
Before we move on to the main story, here’s a bit of context. About five years ago, I was engaged to this guy named Mark. We had been together for three years and I was in love with him: you know, the kind where you cannot imagine your life without your favorite person. Luckily, Mark reciprocated my feelings and always assured me that he too felt the same way. We weredeep into our wedding plans and I was over the moon to start a new chapter of my life with him when, out of the blue, he called it quits. Yes, you heard that right. He broke up with me. His reasoning? I “wasn’t good enough for him.” Apparently, he’d landed a big promotion at work and suddenly felt like I didn’t fit his new image. Sounds crazy, right? According to him, he needed someone more refined, someone posh—basically, someone who wasn’t me. He claimed I lacked ambition and drive and that he wanted a partner who could match his “high standards.” It hit me hard. I was a total wreck, wallowing in self-misery for months. I knew I had to pull myself together, but I just didn’t know how. Everything reminded me of him, of us, and of the time we had spent together. It took me ages to move on from him, but the pain is still fresh in my mind, and so are the memories. It hit me hard, and it took me ages to move on from him. Fast forward to the present: I’m 35, delightfully single, and absolutely thriving in my career. Last Saturday, I decided to treat myself to dinner at a fancy new restaurant in town. Guess who I saw through the window as I approached the entrance? You guessed it: Mark! He looked just as smug as ever, laughing and enjoying dinner with some stunning woman. I knew I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by; I had to warn her in a way he’d never see coming. So, I stepped into the restaurant, feeling a surge of anger, and then, suddenly, inspiration struck. I called over the waiter and, with a sweet smile, asked if he could do me a favor. “Hello. I need your help. Do you see the man at that table? He’s my ex-fiancé,” I explained, keeping my tone light. “It would mean the world to me if you could help me pull off a little prank.” The waiter’s eyes twinkled with interest. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, leaning in slightly. “First, let’s send over a bottle of your most expensive champagne with a note,” I said, already feeling the thrill of my plan coming together. He nodded, taking mental notes. “What’s the note supposed to say?” “To Mark, who always settles for second best,” I replied, grinning. The waiter chuckled and walked away to arrange the first part of my revenge. From my table, I watched as the waiter presented the bottle and note to Mark. His face turned a brilliant shade of red, and the woman looked completely puzzled. I could see Mark trying to explain something, but she didn’t seem too convinced. Next, I decided to hit a bit closer to home. I called the waiter over again. “Now, I’d like to send them an appetizer,” I said. “Something he’s highly allergic to. And another note.” The waiter raised an eyebrow but didn’t question me. “What should this note say?” “Just a reminder of what you can’t have,” I replied, feeling a bit wicked. He nodded and went off to carry out my instructions. I watched with glee as the appetizer was delivered. The woman’s face shifted from confusion to irritation, and Mark looked like he was ready to explode. He was obviously trying hard to maintain his composure, but it was a losing battle. For the final act, I needed some outside help. I quickly called my friend Sarah, who lived nearby. “Hey, Sarah, I need a huge favor. Can you come to the new restaurant downtown? I need you to play a little part in my revenge plot.” Sarah arrived within 20 minutes, just as Mark was looking like he might crack under the pressure. She walked up to their table, pretending to recognize Mark. “Oh my God, Mark!” she exclaimed, loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. “I haven’t seen you since you were at that dating seminar last month. How’s your fiancée? Did she finally agree to the open relationship?” The entire restaurant seemed to go silent. Mark’s date looked horrified. “What is she talking about, Mark?” she demanded. Mark stammered, trying to explain, but the damage was done. “Clara, it’s not what it sounds like,” he blurted out, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson. “She’s just a friend, making a joke.” Clara wasn’t buying it. She narrowed her eyes, her face a mix of anger and disbelief. “A joke? About a fiancée and an open relationship? Really, Mark?” She grabbed her purse and stood up. “I can’t believe I wasted my time on you.” She stormed out, leaving Mark standing there, red-faced and furious. I watched from my table, savoring every moment of his downfall. As a cherry on top, I decided to go for one final blow.I walked over to Mark’s table, smiling sweetly. “Hi Mark,” I said, enjoying the look of shock on his face. “Guess I wasn’t so ‘not good enough’ after all, huh?” His mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no words came out. Feeling triumphant, I turned and left the restaurant. My heart was pounding, but it felt amazing. Outside, I took a deep breath of the cool night air, feeling lighter than I had in years. A few days later, I heard from a mutual friend that Clara had broken up with Mark that night. Apparently, he’s been trying to figure out how it all went so wrong ever since. He’s even been asking around, trying to piece together what happened. Meanwhile, I’ve moved on, happier than ever. And that’s my tale, folks. Revenge can indeed be deliciously satisfying, especially when garnished with a touch of humiliation. Don’t you agree? Thanks for reading! Much like Nikki, Phoebe’s seemingly idyllic life was shattered by a shocking discovery. Instead of letting pain and anger consume her, she decided to reclaim her freedom and secure her future, all while her husband remained blissfully unaware of her plans.
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