After my divorce, I stepped into the rain clutching a cracked phone and my mother’s old necklace—my last hope of covering rent. My name is Alyssa Carter, and by that point, the numbers no longer worked in my favor. One more late notice and I’d be locked out of my apartment.
My ex-husband, Mark, walked away with the savings, the car, and nearly everything else. I kept only what fit in a few bags—and the necklace my mother had worn every day until she passed away. She always told me not to lose it, saying it was “important.” I assumed she meant sentimental.
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