“You don’t give orders in this house!” Diane shrieked, her voice hitting a glass-shattering register. “You’re a penniless little girl who we took in out of charity!”

“Charity?” I tilted my head. “Is that what you call living in my guest room, eating the food I pay for through the household budget I managed to optimize? Sit. Down.”

To my surprise, Gregory sank onto the sofa. He looked less like a titan of industry and more like a man who had just realized he was standing on a trapdoor.

“Six months ago,” I began, “I realized that this marriage was no longer a partnership. It was a hostile takeover. You wanted a dependent, Gregory. You wanted someone you could starve into obedience. So, I decided to return to my roots. I decided to go back to work.”