I reported my ex to the tax authorities and I’ve never felt more powerful or more disgusted with myself.

It’s been two years since he walked out on me. He didn’t just break up with me; he blindsided me, moved out while I was at work, and was official with a girl from his office forty-eight hours later. I spent months in therapy trying to "forgive and let go" because that’s what a healthy, mature woman is supposed to do. I tried to be the bigger person. I really did. But then I saw their vacation photos. They were in Bali, staying at a resort that costs more per night than my monthly rent, and he was smiling that same smug smile he used whenever he managed to "bend the rules" at his small business. I knew exactly how he was affording that trip. When we were together, he used to brag about how he manipulated his books, how he paid people under the table, and how he wrote off his entire personal life as business expenses. He thought it made him a genius. I sat at my laptop for three hours before I finally hit send on the anonymous tip to the IRS. I gave them everything. Dates, specific accounts I remembered, and even the names of the contractors he paid in cash. A few months later, I heard through mutual friends that his business is being audited. He’s panicking. He had to sell his car, and apparently, the stress is absolutely destroying his new relationship. I should feel bad. I should feel like I’ve moved on. But instead, I spend my evenings occasionally checking his social media just to see the cracks forming in his perfect life. I am a thirty-two-year-old woman acting like a ghost in the machine of his downfall. I’m not a "bigger person." I’m a petty, vengeful shadow, and the worst part is that I don’t regret it at all.