He Asked Me to Sign the Divorce Papers or Pay Him Ten Million in Compensation

On our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband, Edmund Garrett, asked for the login details to all of my shopping apps. He told me he wanted to give me a gift I would remember for the rest of my life. "Over these ten years, I have remembered every single piece of clothing you bought and every meal you cooked," Edmund said with a warm smile. As a homemaker who had stayed home for an entire decade, I felt a rush of pure joy. After so many years of marriage, I was genuinely surprised that Edmund still had this thoughtful side to him. Yet on the actual anniversary day, he produced a divorce agreement along with a hundred-page Excel spreadsheet. "Delores, let's get a divorce. For the past ten years, we've been living on a 'go Dutch' basis—but I've kept a ledger of every penny you spent, the house you lived in, and the meals you ate. Now, you owe me ten million. You have two choices: pay up, or sign the divorce papers." When Edmund walked in with a young woman, I was standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. Her name was Katrina Jenkins. She had long, wavy hair and striking big eyes, and she wore a Chanel dress that had been a new arrival the previous season. The moment she stepped through the door, she draped herself against Edmund in a soft, clingy pose. "Edmund, is this the housekeeper you told me about?" I untied my apron and remained silent. Edmund pulled Katrina closer, his arm tight around her. "Katrina, don't say that. She is still my wife," he paused, his tone turning cold, "but not for long." He reached into his briefcase, took out two documents, and tossed them onto the dining table. One was the divorce agreement. The other was a thick bundle of A4 sheets printed to look like an actual book, consisting of nothing but an Excel spreadsheet. "Delores, we are getting a divorce." I stared at the agreement. The clause stating that the couple had no joint assets had been bolded and underlined in heavy black lines. He intended to leave me with absolutely nothing. Before I could even open my mouth, Katrina burst out laughing. She shook the Cartier bracelet on her wrist. "Delores, you should not blame Edmund. Men have to put their careers first. You spent ten years at home without bringing in a single cent for the company. You were only a burden to him, and he had no other choice." While she spoke, she helped herself to the sofa and picked up the apple I had just peeled, taking a big bite. "This house is decent, but the decor feels so dated. We will need to hire someone to redesign the whole place soon." I lifted my head and looked straight at Edmund. After ten years as husband and wife, he could not even spare me a single word of explanation. His eyes held no guilt, only clear impatience. Fine. A divorce it would be. I had grown tired of this life anyway. "Edmund, how exactly will we divide the assets?" I asked. He laughed as though I had told the funniest joke he had ever heard. "Assets?" He pointed at the thick ledger and spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "Delores, there are no joint assets between us. Only joint debts. For the past ten years, we've been 'going Dutch'—and I've kept a record of every penny you spent, the house you lived in, and the meals you ate. Now, you owe me ten million. If you can't pay it back, sign the damn divorce papers right now and get the hell out." Ten million dollars was an amount I could never hope to repay. I picked up that absurd Ten-Year Love Ledger and turned the pages one by one. The entries were detailed to an almost ridiculous level. "March 8, 2014: Delores purchased one dress for 899 dollars. Recorded as 899 dollars owed." "May 20, 2015: The two of us had dinner together for 520 dollars. Delores owes 260 dollars." "October 1, 2016: Out-of-town trip, flights and hotel totaled 12,000 dollars. Delores owes 6,000 dollars." The deeper I read, the more outrageous the items became. "July 2018: Delores fell ill. Edmund provided care for three days. At the standard rate for a premium caregiver in the city, plus lost wages and emotional distress compensation, the total is 5,000 dollars." "Throughout 2020, Delores handled all household chores. After professional assessment, the value she created fell below the average nanny salary in the city, so she must pay Edmund the difference of 8,000 dollars." Even occasions like my parents' birthdays, when he joined us for dinner, bought gifts, or spent money on gas, had been carefully logged. The final page showed the grand total: 10,023,451.68 dollars.