Vague
Before our marriage, my wife was the kind of woman everyone envied.
She was strikingly beautiful and had graduated from a top university.
Young as she was, she had already made a name for herself in finance, with a brilliant career ahead of her.
I hated women like her: independent, proud, sharp-edged, decisive, and strong-willed.
She was the dazzling center of attention wherever she went.
So I set about systematically grinding away every last edge she had.
After the wedding, I used "taking care of the family" as an excuse to pressure her into leaving a key position in a fast-rising career.
I took control of her bank accounts and tamed her into a docile cat that only knew how to say yes.
Then I deliberately crushed her confidence, vetoing every decision she made, nitpicking even the smallest daily tasks.
I belittled her abilities in front of others and dismissed everything she contributed.
Over and over, I wore down her willpower and pride until she had given up every piece of herself.
I even made her the CFO of my company and dumped documents on her to sign, ensuring she would be the one to take the fall.
I thought I could never lose.
Until federal agents knocked on my office door and slapped a stack of evidence on my desk.
"Mr. Tyler Hayes, you'll need to come with us."
I frowned, flipped through the evidence, and froze.
No wonder she had become so obedient. Looking back, the signs had been there all along.