My wife, who had always despised lugging around keys, ditched our modern smart lock for a clunky old-school key version.

She even bolted it shut during showers.

Every time I returned from work, I'd have to ring her up first.

Fed up, I slapped the divorce agreement on the table during a family get-together.

Everyone assumed I was drunk and joking.

My wife hauled off and cracked me across the face. "Am I asking too much? You promised you'd indulge me forever."

I met her glare with icy indifference and let out a bitter scoff. "Aren't I divorcing you and never returning the ultimate indulgence?"

"Shut your trap!" Martha Potter snapped. "If I hadn't sunk into postpartum depression after carrying our daughter, I wouldn't have been this insecure. I'm not accepting this flimsy excuse for a divorce. It's absurd."

She jabbed her finger at my nose, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, but I didn't even glance at her.

Closing my briefcase with deliberate finality, I said coldly, "Sign it. You don't want to make things ugly."

The crowd gawked at Martha, who was trembling with anger, while I remained composed.

Whispers spread through the room.

They couldn't comprehend why I'd torch our marriage over such a trivial matter. Before that, I had always bent over backward for her.

Martha snapped out of her shock and lunged forward. Her father, Robert Potter, sensed the gravity of the situation, scrambling to his feet.

I stood up to leave, but Martha's therapist, Sean Lynch, clamped a firm hand on my shoulder and shoved me back down.

"Your wife is battling severe postpartum depression and has no sense of security," he declared. "Locking the door is her way of shielding herself. How can you be so callous and unforgiving? It's your endless nitpicking that's exacerbating her condition."

The relatives nodded, their loyalties aligning squarely with Sean.

"Doctor Lynch has a point."

"I think Jerome has got some other grudge and is venting it on Martha."

"He is mooching off the family and still pitching fits. Only Martha would tolerate him."

Martha silenced the chatter with a sharp glance, then pivoted toward me with a softer expression.

"Honey, I'm sorry," she cooed. "I get that my illness has put you through the wringer. You never raised your voice at me before. For the love we shared over ten years, can you just cool off a bit? Is your mom's treatment running short on funds again? No need to feel awkward about it. She is my family, too."

Everyone admired her humility, but their glares at me grew harsher.

"Martha is battling her illness and still catering to you like this. Be grateful," Robert chimed in, leaning heavily on his cane. "We've never overlooked your mom's needs. How much do you need this time? Tell us, and we'll find a way."

I got the implication. He believed I was too proud to ask for more financial help, thus this dramatic ploy.

I dodged Martha's outstretched hand and stated flatly, "The spark's gone. Let's call it quits."

A heavy silence engulfed the room.

Martha rushed forward, wrapping me in a desperate hug. Her voice cracked with sobs. "Please, don't joke with me."

I pried her hand off and stepped back. "I'm serious. Let's end this with dignity."

She stood rooted in shock, while our infant daughter suddenly let out piercing wails from her stroller.

I tuned out the chaos and started to walk away.

Sean flung a glass tumbler at me. It crashed at my feet.

Sean barreled toward me, shoving the divorce agreement against my chest.

His face twisted with anger. "Martha sacrificed a golden ticket to study abroad just to marry you. She loved you deeply. Now that she is ill, you're abandoning her and your daughter? Don't call yourself a man!"

I faced his outburst with cool amusement. "How is my split from my wife any of your business?"

Spittle flew from Sean's lips as he seized my collar, bellowing, "You're blind to your privilege. How much cash have you guzzled down for your comatose mother? Don't you have a conscience? Without Martha's help, she would have been long gone."

I delivered a swift kick to his midsection, sending him sprawling. "Stay out of my family's affairs! A shrink like you has no place at this gathering."

Martha pushed past me in a frenzy, helping Sean to his feet. Her words tumbled out in a stutter. "Why lash out at him? He's done nothing wrong."

"He deserves it for running his mouth!" I retorted, my resolve strengthened by their tender exchange.

The crowd's jeers grew louder, erasing my decade of sacrifices. They branded me a thankless leech, claiming Martha had endured hardships after marrying me.

Sean patted Martha's hand reassuringly. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "It's fine. I overstepped. Don't be upset. Take a breath."

"It's not your fault." Martha's eyes brimmed with undisguised tenderness, her voice quivering. "Jerome, do you have to make things ugly here? You know how much I love you. With the whole family watching, can you calm down and sort this out with me at home?"

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, soaking Sean's shirt.

While her melodrama stirred nothing in me, the relatives swarmed around her. She cried even more bitterly, painting me as an irredeemable monster.

"Jerome, you've been a rock for Martha all these years. There is no denying that."

"We've seen your dedication and loyalty."

"Just tell us what is eating you. We'll own it if it's our fault."

Robert shuffled closer on his cane, attempting to mediate, but I held my ground, refusing to bite.

"I'm done. No negotiations," I said blandly.

Robert's face flushed crimson as he erupted into a coughing fit.

Martha clambered up, clutching my arm. "Please, don't do this."

When I remained unmoved, she exploded, "Did you cheat on me?"

I remained silent, holding her stare.

Robert slammed his cane on the floor. "Jerome, don't you get it? Every dime in your pocket comes from our generosity. We've been helping you treat your mother. Shape up or slink out penniless. You have two days to think it through."

The ultimatum hung in the air, and the crowd awaited my capitulation.

I just wrenched free from Martha's grip and stormed out.

My childhood friend, Megan Murray, waited in my car, handing me a dossier.

She cocked her head and jabbed at the incriminating findings. "This report should seal the deal."

"Thanks for the effort," I replied. "Tomorrow, we're giving Martha a big surprise."

I exhaled deeply, tapping open the video Megan had forwarded.

Every evening before I returned home from work, a shadowy figure would slip out our front door. He'd pause provocatively in front of the doorbell camera, flaunting panties of various styles and colors like trophies.

Two days were too long. I wanted to expose them all immediately.

At the dinner checkout, the server informed me my card was bone-dry.

For years, the Potters had micromanaged my finances with an iron fist, claiming it prevented reckless investments. In truth, it was a measure against my rising above my station.

Martha doled out my allowance monthly, her mood dictating the amount.

Since the lock swap, my account had gathered dust.

The next morning, I set out early to collect my belongings.

Before I could even breach the gates, a group of gossipy women pointed their fingers at me.

"Isn't that the married-in son-in-law of the Potter family?"

"That's him, the spineless freeloader who snagged a wealthier woman and dumped his wife."

"Poor Martha, battling sickness from childbirth and now suffering this betrayal. What a tragedy!"

They pelted me with sunflower seed shells, their venomous remarks echoing down the street.

I wheeled around, ready to fire back, when a sugary voice cut through. "Honey!"

A Porsche pulled up, revealing Martha inside.

"I knew you'd swing by," she continued. "I bought you a new tie. Come home with me and try it on."

Expressionless, I climbed into the back seat and glanced at the tie.

The flashy label glared back at me. I grabbed it and flicked it out the window without a second thought.

Martha's lips parted, but she clamped them shut, swallowing her words.

"Good lord! That must've cost a pretty penny."

"And he just threw it away?"

The women outside scrambled like vultures to claim the discarded luxury.

"Drive," I said, gesturing toward the garage.

Martha simmered in silence but complied, trailing me up to the front door.

The lock clicked open, revealing Sean in the living room. He was gently swaying the baby's stroller.

Martha paled, stammering, "Dr. Lynch is here for my scheduled therapy session."

I brushed past their awkward tableau, heading straight to the bedroom to retrieve my mother's heirloom bracelet, which Martha no longer deserved.

Sean wheeled the stroller into my path, a grin playing at his lips. "I'm glad you found your way back. The baby needs her father. Come say hi."

He tugged at my arm toward the stroller. I shrugged him off, but he latched on again.

My patience snapped, and I shoved him aside. "Back off!"

Dashing into the room, I rifled through the nightstand drawer and snatched the bracelet.

Sean tailed me, swiping for the heirloom but grasping air.

"Hands off my family treasure!" I growled, pushing him back.

In a flash, Sean's pained yelps and the baby's terrified shrieks echoed through the room.

He lay sprawled on the floor beside the toppled stroller.

Martha burst in at the commotion, surveying the wreckage and roaring at me. "If my daughter so much as bruises from this, I'll make you pay dearly."

She scooped up the baby, inspecting every inch with frantic urgency.

"This is my fault," Sean piped up. "I figured the baby was pining for her dad, but he couldn't care less. He just shoved us aside."