As a single mom working two jobs, I’ve always taught Jake that intelligence matters more than money. But when the richest kid in school invited him to a birthday party, even I hoped this might be his chance to finally fit in.
The mansion was like something from a movie—marble floors, a pool, servants carrying trays of food. I kissed Jake’s forehead and told him to have fun, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach.
An hour later, my phone buzzed with a notification. Lucas had posted a video of the kids circling Jake, mocking his thrift-store clothes while his wealthy dad laughed along. My hands shook as I drove back, ready to defend my boy.
But Jake was already outside, watching through the window as chaos unfolded inside. With quiet pride, he explained how he’d used his science knowledge to create the perfect revenge—laxative-soaked bread that attracted every bird in the neighborhood. The result? A mansion covered in bird droppings, a ruined birthday cake, and a bunch of spoiled kids learning a valuable lesson about karma.
That night as we ate our modest dinner, Jake asked if he’d done the right thing. I told him standing up to bullies doesn’t always mean fists—sometimes the smartest revenge is the kind they never see coming.
