I Married the Woman My Father Chose for Me — On Our Wedding Night, She Shocked Me by Saying, ‘From Now On, You Must Do Everything I Tell You’

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.”

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