I never imagined that cleaning a mansion would lead to uncovering my past in the worst way possible. I’m Jocelyn, 40, a single mom, doing everything for my son, Oliver. Last week, I got a job at a luxurious house. It seemed like just another day—until I found a photo of Oliver on the nightstand. Panic gripped me. Who lived here, and why did they have a picture of my son?

Then, I saw him—Tristan, my ex, in family photos with his new wife. He’d walked out on us nine years ago without a second thought, and now, here he was, flaunting his new life. On top of that, the note I found was from him, mocking my work and life.

But I wasn’t the same woman he left behind. Furious, I made small changes—switching salt with sugar, adding vinegar to his detergent. I left a note, too: “Money won’t buy you love or respect. Stay away from Oliver, or you’ll regret it.”

Later, I snuggled with Oliver, feeling proud. Tristan might have wealth, but I had something far more precious—my son’s love. Together, we were unstoppable, and nothing would ever change that.