I stormed across the street. Her guilty face said it all. “I didn’t think you’d be back early,” she admitted. “I’ve done it before — always cleaned up. It seemed harmless.” “How long?” I asked. “Since last year.” I was furious, but calm. “You owe me fifteen grand. One week.” She paid. I ended our friendship and used the money, along with my savings, to buy a modest apartment of my own. I kept the old house — and listed it for short-term rentals myself.

Six months later, I had a steady new income. Lisa still lives across the street, peeking through the curtains. But I never wave. I don’t need to. She gave me a reason to start something of my own — and a freedom no one else controls.