I was standing in my wedding dress, just minutes before walking down the aisle, when the man I loved looked me in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you. My parents are categorically against such a poor daughter-in-law.”

Once, I thought revenge would feel like fire.

But real revenge was quieter.

It was sleeping peacefully.

It was reclaiming my own name.

It was watching people who called me poor discover they could never afford the truth.

I smiled softly.

“None.”