My life changed in a supermarket parking lot. A month after my sudden divorce from Michael—my high school sweetheart who once wore clearance khakis and worked as a cashier—I spotted him stepping out of a white sports car in a designer suit and Rolex. Shocked, I confronted him. He dismissed me coldly and tossed a $100 bill at my feet—one with a small smiley face I had drawn years ago.
It brought back a memory: my dying grandfather offering me $200,000, which I refused. I drew that smiley face on one of the bills, telling him I didn’t need money—I was happy. He gave the money away after I declined.
Realizing Michael had likely taken it, I visited Grandpa’s old friend Harrison, who confirmed my suspicion. Harrison then referred me to Logan, a sharp lawyer, who quickly saw through Michael’s scheme—divorcing me just after getting the money to claim it for himself.
Logan and I confronted Michael. Faced with legal action, he caved, agreeing to return the money. A year later, I used it to open a veterinary clinic in Grandpa’s honor. Harrison came to the opening and said, “He’d be proud.” I believed him.