Marry Rich? Nah. Get Rich.

The day before my wedding, my ex-boyfriend asked me to meet him in a hotel room.

"I heard you're getting married," he said. "Could you meet me, just this once? There's something I need to tell you."

I agreed, and that night I went to the address he gave me.

But the person waiting for me wasn't him. It was my fiancé, his face like a storm cloud, and beside him, his self-satisfied childhood sweetheart, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

"See, Julian, I told you she wasn't being honest with you," she said. "She's finally slipped up."