I scrolled past a trending meme online: “Eight Swiss Rolls. How many can I eat?” Seemed fun, so I casually shared it in the family group chat. A moment later, my phone buzzed incessantly. Husband: “That whole box must be twenty, thirty bucks! Why’d you buy it? Aren’t your meals filling enough?” “Seriously, such a gold-digger!” Son: “Eat, eat, eat, eat it all! Mom, how old are you? Last year you were acting like one of those trendy influencers, eating just the tips of strawberries. This year, it’s Swiss rolls.” “You really think you’re some online ‘cute little wife’!” I stopped, my hand hovering over the lottery ticket in my pocket, and turned to retrieve my marriage certificate. I slapped a ten-dollar bill on my husband’s face. “Divorce. My treat!” 1 I wasn't born a housewife. Before marriage, I held a respectable position with a good salary. For the sake of my family, I sacrificed my career. Leo’s mother was bedridden, incontinent. Every time I changed her adult diapers, they were bursting full. The acrid stench hit me, nauseating. My son had also just been born then. Leo was in the prime of his career, coming home drunk every day. I didn't even get my full postpartum rest. Alone, day and night, I cared for the entire family. My body was completely depleted. Now, I have a host of gynecological issues. Before we married, Leo had promised me, “Honey, I’ll work hard to earn money and support you and our son. I won’t let you suffer a bit!” His idea of “supporting” meant I got a few extra bowls of plain rice. Eating a few Swiss rolls was being a “gold-digger.” I looked at my rough, ugly hands. I truly felt I wasn't worth it. Good thing I finally woke up. I tagged them both in the group chat. Me: “Leo, tomorrow morning at 8 AM, we’re going to the courthouse to file for divorce. Our son goes with you.” A thankless wolf cub. Just abandon it. 2 My son’s thankless behavior showed early signs. On his fifth birthday, Leo was late, as usual. Calls went unanswered, texts unreturned. My son’s eyes drooped from exhaustion, and I, feeling sorry for him, told him, “Dad’s still working overtime. Mom will celebrate with you first, and Dad will celebrate with you again when he gets back.” He suddenly exploded, smashing the cake onto me. “I hate you! It’s all because you do nothing at home that Dad works so hard!” “Why are you so lazy, not going to work, just like a pig at home!” No money meant no dignity. In my son’s eyes, my care for him, my sacrifices for the family, couldn't compare to the occasional toy Leo brought home. He even pushed me once because I dared to touch that toy while cleaning his room. To this day, a winding, ugly scar marks my wrist. Since he loved his dad so much, I decided to let them have each other. 3 My phone rang, stopped, and rang again. My nail technician couldn’t help but ask, “Ma’am, is someone trying to reach you?” I flipped my phone to silent, waving her on. “Unimportant people.” That night, I didn't go home. I found a five-star hotel and thoroughly enjoyed a night of luxury. At eight sharp, I arrived at the courthouse. Father and son stumbled in late, hair messy, still in their pajamas. My son, like his father’s little bodyguard, immediately began to scold me. “Mom, are you done with your nonsense? You’re divorcing Dad just over a few Swiss rolls? Are you out of your mind?!” I gave him a cold look, then slapped him hard across the face. It was my first time hitting him, so he was stunned. I slapped him again. He finally reacted, roaring with rage, raising his fist to hit me. Leo stopped him. He was always good at playing the nice guy, mediating. Every time our son did something wrong and I tried to discipline him, Leo would step in to be the hero. It’s no wonder my son and I had become so antagonistic; Leo had played a significant role in escalating things behind the scenes. Sure enough, he smiled and said, “Honey, Jay just spoke out of turn. But it’s true, divorcing me over eight Swiss rolls? It wouldn’t look good for your reputation.” More useless platitudes. I rolled my eyes, curtly saying, “Leo, cut the crap. If you’re a man, come in and get divorced with me!” I waved my hand, adorned with new nail polish and sparkling rings, and slapped a crisp ten-dollar bill on the table. “Divorce. My treat!” 4 Seeing my nails, Leo’s face changed. “Who told you to do that? How much did it cost? Go get a refund right now!” I admired my manicure. “Not expensive, just about a hundred bucks!” A hundred bucks. For a cheapskate like Leo, it must have killed him. Usually, for the two hundred dollars in monthly living expenses, he’d humiliate me endlessly before handing it over, as if I owed him. But mortgage, car payments, utilities—none of those were free. I always worked odd jobs when our son was at school to supplement the household income. Leo spat on the floor, exasperated. “I’m out there, slaving away like a dog to earn some money, and you’re constantly finding new ways to torment me! Do you even care about this family anymore?!” My son chimed in, “Mom, you can’t spend Dad’s money anymore! Dad works hard for his money; what right do you have to spend it?!” They were a united front. I crossed my arms. “I am your legal wife. As long as you don’t divorce me, I will spend your money. If you don’t give me money, I’ll sell the house and the car.” Leo’s face turned ashen, speechless. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a divorce; it was that he didn’t want to split half his assets with me. “Divorce is fine, but you haven’t worked a day since we got married, and you ask me for two thousand a month. You owe me a ten-thousand-dollar breakup fee!” When it came to shamelessness, Leo was truly in a league of his own. I certainly wouldn’t agree to that; otherwise, he’d probably demand I return the original dowry too. “If you don’t agree, we’ll see each other in court. You’ll likely lose half your net worth to me.” 5 I couldn’t just sit there and take it. A divorce lawsuit would drag on forever. Seeing him for another day would make me sick. I listed the house they were currently living in online for a low price, using Leo’s number. I also printed cards explaining how Leo was demanding ten thousand dollars from me in the divorce and distributed them in front of his company. I shouted loudly, “Step right up, folks, don’t miss out! A guide to avoiding scumbag managers!” “I can’t believe Manager Miller is like this! He looks so decent, but he’s actually a jerk.” “Manager Miller is so low. His wife gave birth to his son, and now he wants her to pay him ten thousand dollars in the divorce!” “Someone with such a terrible character is a cancer to this company. He should be fired.” The public outcry spread quickly. Wherever he went, people at the company pointed and whispered. Soon, he was called into a meeting with his direct supervisor. When the partner company learned of the matter, they demanded that the project lead be replaced. Leo, fuming, found me just as I had finished getting my hair done. I smiled, waving at him. “Husband, pay up.” Not expensive, just a little over a hundred bucks. He stood there, frozen, clearly not wanting to pay for me. I took out my car keys, saying helplessly, “I don’t have any cash, so I’ll just have to pawn the car.” Leo snatched the keys away angrily, pulled out his phone, and paid. 6 The divorce went smoother than expected. Perhaps he feared I’d cause more trouble. With the marriage certificate exchanged for divorce papers, I was officially single again. Our son willingly went with Leo, even making a face at me as they left. He was clearly happy to be rid of a mom who only spent money. Leo’s meager possessions held no interest for me. He generously suggested I leave with nothing, and he wouldn’t demand child support from me. Such a good deal, I had no reason to refuse. The first thing I did was cash in the lottery ticket. Forty million dollars. I donated ten thousand to a mountain charity, leaving over thirty million. I bought a house in the suburbs and booked a tour package. My son’s teacher called my phone. I was luxuriously sunbathing on a beach. The teacher said, “Mrs. Jones, your son had an argument with another student at school and made his nose bleed. You need to come to school and handle it.” I slowly said, “I’m very sorry, Mr. Smith. I’m no longer his mother. His current guardian is Leo Miller.”
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