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At my father's birthday dinner, Eric Shaw raised his glass to toast. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "Sir, I've always wondered—how did you raise a daughter like Emily? So rude, so unreasonable, and completely oblivious to it all?" My father's grip on his glass faltered. But I calmly put down my napkin. "I agree to the divorce." Eric's hand paused for just a second, then he smiled. "Glad you finally came around." That night, he handed me the divorce papers. "Don't worry. You can always come to me if you need anything." I didn't say a word but just picked up the pen and signed. He'd been cheating for a year. For the past six months, he'd been pushing me to end it. He'd stooped so low as to threaten my best friend with her job just to pressure me into divorce. He'd openly video-called his high school sweetheart, the woman he'd been seeing, right in our home. And now, he'd escalated to humiliating my father in front of everyone just to force my hand. If he wanted a divorce that badly, fine. I'd give him one. He just better not come crying when he loses everything.