I married a man in a coma for the money.    To my utter shock, he woke up right after we tied the knot.    He glared at me with disdain, clearly convinced I was nothing but a gold-digger.    I admitted without hesitation: I didn't love him—I loved the money.    He was cold, suspicious, and obsessively controlling.    Frustrated, I tried every trick to divorce him.    In the end, I took my payout, signed the papers, and left overnight, dreaming of a luxurious new life.    But he shredded the divorce papers with a vengeance.    The man who once despised me now had me cornered, his eyes desperate.    "Please," he pleaded, "let's not get divorced."