I Investigated My Ex for Billion-Dollar Tax Fraud

I removed the photo hanging in the living room. Carefully, I tore my part and set it aside, while I shredded Amias’s and flushed it down the toilet. It was ironic, really, considering I was the one who insisted on putting the photo up in the first place. But every time Amias's friends came over, I had to take it down and hide it like a dirty secret, as if I were invisible, unseen and hidden from the light.

With a pair of scissors in hand, I cut the cords of the air conditioner, the TV, and the internet. Then, I went to the kitchen and grabbed the hot sauce, pouring it liberally into the cabinets. Spoiled milk and fruit from the fridge found their way under the couch. In Amias’s wardrobe, I found his underwear and cut small holes in each pair. I scrubbed his toothbrush in the toilet and put it back neatly.

I paused for a moment, then went downstairs to buy a strong, clear adhesive. Humming a tune, I gleefully spread it all over Amias’s bed. By the time the place was transformed into something utterly unrecognizable, an hour had passed. I nodded in satisfaction.

Before leaving, I pocketed all the keys to Amias’s cars. Just as I stepped out of the apartment complex, Amias called. His voice carried a hint of irritation, “Where have you gone? Everyone's waiting for you, you know?”

The anger in my chest had simmered somewhat, leaving me in the mood for a bit of teasing. “Take a guess. Maybe I’m at your place?”

Amias paused, his tone turning chilly. “Malani, that’s not funny.”

I remained silent, and Amias seemed to sense something was off, leading him to an unprecedented moment of concession, “Still upset about Lana? I told you, it was just a dare.”

Lana, his childhood friend. He called her Jojo with such easy familiarity, unlike how he always addressed me by my full name.

“No, it’s fine. If you love these games so much, then keep playing.”

Lana had lost a game and was dared to sit on someone's lap. She looked shyly at Amias, who understood immediately and pulled her into his arms. Everyone laughed, except for me; my expression darkened. I had left the room to settle the bill, preparing an excuse to leave.

But at the door, I overheard Amias casually calling me the “nanny.” He demanded I carry myself with dignity, yet mocked me in front of his friends, letting them make sleazy jokes and suggestive comments. I may not have dated before, but I knew this wasn’t love. I couldn’t believe he’d treat his childhood friend this way.