Carl’s big 10th anniversary bash glittered, a “love celebration,” but I felt dread behind my fake smile. Anita strutted over, her bracelet—Carl’s gift—dangling as she chirped, “This party’s amazing! What’s your present?” I mumbled, “It’s nice,” teeth clenched. Carl called out, “Everyone, look here!” He handed me a wrapped box, my heart pounding with hope. I tore it open—silence fell. A mop stared back, cheap and mocking. Anita’s laugh erupted, wild and mean. “What’s this?” I gasped. Carl grinned, “A tease—real gift’s coming,” but his look screamed I was his servant. Anita crowed, “Spot-on for Mary!” Ten years of being ignored flared up—I bolted, Carl shouting, “Where you headed?” His sports car sat outside, his true love. I smashed the mop through the windshield—crack!—and he ran out, yelling, “What’s wrong with you?!” I dropped it, “Enjoy your gift,” and stormed in, whispers trailing me.
Upstairs, I shook—when did we unravel? A crash outside snapped me back—a planter had crushed his car’s hood, a twisted mess. I laughed—fate stepped in. Downstairs, Anita shrieked into her phone, “My money’s gone?!” Her glee vanished, Carl stunned. Linda sidled up, “Carl’s seen a divorce lawyer—he’s got papers.” My chest tightened—he’d meant to break me with that mop first. “Thanks,” I said, fire igniting. Later, I checked our records—house mine, 51% of our business too, all Carl’s old moves. He’d armed me without knowing. Morning came, I packed him out. “What’s this?” he sputtered. “You’re done—my place, my rules,” I said. He begged, “I didn’t mean it,” but I snapped, “A mop? Then divorce? Classy.” FBI knocked—Anita’s fraud hit our company. “I’ll sort it,” I smirked, “Take the mop.” He left, crushed, and Linda visited, “You’re staying?” “All mine,” I beamed. Wine in hand, we marveled—karma flipped it all, and that mop stood as my victory flag.
