raised her head, eyes narrowing.

“What did you say?”

“I said no, Adriana.

I’m not going.”

She stood, her face flushing with anger. “You don’t say no to me. Ever.

Or have you forgotten what happens if you don’t play along?”

“Go ahead,” I challenged. “Call your father. Tell him how disappointed you are.”

“You know I will.” She reached for her phone.

“And your family will be finished.”

I smiled. “I don’t think so.”

Her fingers paused over the screen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Call him,” I urged.

“Please. I insist.”

Confusion flickered across her face, but she made the call, putting it on speaker.

“Daddy? We have a problem.

James is being difficult. I think we need to reconsider—”

“Adriana.” Her father’s voice was ice cold. “What the hell have you been doing?”

She froze.

“What do you mean?”

“James sent me videos. Dozens of them. I had no idea this was what you had in mind when you said you wanted him to do everything you said!

Is this how I raised you to behave? Like a tyrant?”

The color drained from her face as she looked at me, finally understanding.

“You recorded me?” she whispered.

I nodded. “Every moment.

Every demand.”

“Adriana,” her father continued, “you’ve handed your husband enough blackmail material to destroy our family’s reputation, and he made it clear he’ll use it, too. You’re getting divorced. Those were his conditions: a divorce from you that leaves the business arrangement with his father intact.

Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she managed, her voice small.

When the call ended, she turned to me, eyes pleading. “Please, you can’t do this to me! It will ruin my image if we divorce.”

I smiled.

This was an opportunity to teach her a valuable lesson.

“I’ll consider staying,” I replied. “But only if you obey my demands.”

Outrage and fury flickered in her eyes, but she nodded.

For the next two weeks, Adriana got a taste of her own medicine. I didn’t go nearly as far as she had, but I made sure she understood what it felt like to be controlled.

“Fetch my coffee,” I would say.

“And remember, two sugars.”

She would comply, her jaw tight, her eyes burning with hatred.

Meanwhile, I had my lawyers working on divorce papers. When they were ready, I left them on the kitchen counter for her to find.

“What’s this?” she asked, picking them up.

“Divorce papers,” I replied calmly. “Our marriage is over.”

“But, you said you’d stay if I obeyed you!” Her voice shook.

“You lied to me!”

“Yes,” I agreed, “and I hope you learned something from it. We might’ve actually been able to make this work, Adriana, if you hadn’t used that business deal as a way to enslave me. Pack your things and get out of my apartment.”

“And before you go,” I added, “post on your Instagram that we’re separating amicably, by mutual agreement.”

“And if I don’t?” she challenged.

I held up my phone.

“Then these videos go public.”

An hour later, her perfectly crafted post appeared. “After much reflection, James and I have decided to part ways. We remain committed to our families’ shared business interests and wish each other well.”

The door closed behind her, and for the first time since our wedding day, I could breathe freely again.

This arranged marriage had cost me months of dignity, but it had taught me something valuable: no contract, family obligation, or financial concern was worth surrendering control of my life.

Source: amomama