That same night, a concrete planter mysteriously crushed his hood. Anita’s accounts? Frozen. Her shady dealings were catching up. And Carl? Planning to serve me divorce papers after his cruel gift.Too bad for him—I owned the house and 51% of the business. All thanks to papers he once called “just a formality.”

By morning, he was packing his bags. Then came the FBI—investigating Anita for fraud, with our business now under scrutiny.I’ll cooperate fully,” I told them. “As majority shareholder, I insist.”Carl left in disgrace. I stayed—empowered, calm, and sipping wine with a friend who toasted, “Never get on your bad side.”The mop still stands in the corner. A $9.99 reminder that karma always cleans house.