When Mike and I broke up, I thought that was it—just a messy split after three years together. But a month later, I checked my savings account and nearly fainted. Over $5,000 was gone.

Mike had access to my account because we used to share rent, and like an idiot, I never changed my passwords. When I confronted him, he played dumb at first. Then he admitted it. “I needed it,” he shrugged, “I’ll pay you back.”

Spoiler: he never did.

I went to the police, but they said since I had “given” him access, it was a civil matter. He disappeared, blocked me everywhere, and moved to another city with his new girlfriend. I was left scrambling to pay bills, completely wrecked financially. It took me over a year to recover.

Then last night, out of nowhere, Mike called me. I almost ignored it, but curiosity won.

“Hey,” he said, his voice shaky. “I know I don’t deserve this, but… I need help.”

Turns out, his girlfriend dumped him and wiped out his account. He was broke, stranded, and desperate. “Just a couple hundred to get back on my feet,” he begged. “I swear I’ll pay you back.”

I sat there, remembering how he had laughed in my face when I begged for my money back. How he left me drowning in debt while he took his new girl on vacations.

And now? Now he was the one begging.

I took a deep breath and said, ‘You want my help? Fine. But only on my terms.’

There was silence on the other end. I could almost hear him holding his breath.

‘I’ll loan you the money,’ I continued, ‘but you’re going to sign a contract. Five thousand dollars, plus interest. A legally binding agreement. No excuses this time.’

Mike exhaled sharply. ‘Come on, you know I don’t have five grand.’

‘I know,’ I said, ‘but you’ll pay it back. Like you promised before.’

He groaned. ‘You’re seriously gonna make me sign something? I thought you’d understand. I’m not in a good place.’

I let out a dry laugh. ‘You weren’t in a good place when you stole from me either. And I was left cleaning up the mess. So if you want my help, that’s the deal.’

There was a long pause. I could tell he was calculating. He probably thought he could weasel out of it later. ‘Fine,’ he muttered. ‘Send me the contract.’

I drafted a simple but airtight agreement that night and had a lawyer friend look it over. The next day, we met at a coffee shop. He looked rough—unshaven, tired, wearing the same hoodie from years ago. He barely made eye contact as he skimmed the contract.

‘You’re really serious about this,’ he said.

‘Extremely,’ I replied, handing him a pen.

He hesitated, then scribbled his signature. ‘Happy now?’

‘Over the moon,’ I said dryly. ‘I’ll transfer the money after this meeting.’

And I did. Two hundred dollars, just as he asked. But I wasn’t stupid—I kept the proof of transfer, along with the contract. He had officially agreed to pay back the full five thousand.

At first, he sent the occasional, halfhearted payment. Twenty dollars here, fifty there. Then, just like before, he started making excuses. He ‘lost his job.’ His ‘car broke down.’ ‘Things were tight.’ I didn’t even bother responding to his messages anymore. I just forwarded everything to my lawyer.

A few months later, he stopped paying altogether. And that’s when I took him to court.

I had everything—the contract, the bank statements, the proof of his initial theft, even old texts where he admitted to taking my money. It was open and shut. The judge ruled in my favor. Mike now legally owed me the full amount, and if he didn’t pay, his wages could be garnished.

And the best part? He had just started a new job. A good one.

I didn’t have to chase him anymore. His paycheck did the work for me. Month after month, a chunk of his salary went straight into my account. It took a while, but eventually, I got every last penny.

The last payment came in a year later. By then, Mike had hit rock bottom again. Word got around that he’d lost his job—something about stealing from his boss. I wasn’t even surprised. Some people never change.

The funny thing? He tried calling me one more time after that. Probably hoping for sympathy. I let it go to voicemail.

Karma had already answered him.

If you’ve ever had someone betray your trust, just remember—what goes around, comes around. Share this if you agree.