Chapter 1: The $70,000 Ultimatum

On the morning of my wedding, I felt my fingers go numb around the handle of my Dunkin’ coffee mug, the ceramic suddenly slick with sweat. My fiancée’s parents had just dropped a bomb: they wanted a $70,000 security deposit from me, right here in their faded living room, with the Red Sox cap on the coat rack and the hum of their old fridge rattling from the kitchen.

The demand landed like a lead balloon, killing any trace of celebration. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, but inside, everyone’s eyes bounced between me and the Parkers, waiting to see if I’d fold or fight.

Then, my soon-to-be brother-in-law got up, holding a sheet of printer paper like he was about to deliver the Ten Commandments of Marriage. He cleared his throat, grinning as if this was all some HOA meeting—but with a lot more smugness. Relatives perched on creaky sofas and folding chairs, half-expecting a punchline, the air thick with burnt coffee and lemon Pledge.

He started reading off the “Post-Marriage Code of Conduct.”

Rule #1: All the groom’s paychecks go straight to the bride, who gets full control of the family funds.

Rule #2: No living with the groom’s parents—holidays and visits are for the bride’s family only. Minimal contact with your folks, Marcus!

Rule #3: The groom must send money and gifts for every one of the bride’s parents’ birthdays and holidays—and be on call whenever they need help.

...

Rule #4: First kid? $14,000 “gratitude fee” to the bride’s parents. Second kid? $28,000. Third and fourth? You get the idea.

Rule #5: Break any of these, and say goodbye to that $70,000 security deposit.

He finished, shoved the paper into my hands, and said, “Keep this safe. Maybe frame it next to your wedding photo.”

He winked like he’d just nailed the world’s best prank. A few of the older relatives snorted or cackled. One aunt fanned herself with a napkin as laughter broke out around the room—laughter that felt sharp, cold, and aimed right at me.

I wanted to laugh with them, but the joke was on me. My stomach twisted as I realized I was the punchline. My cheeks burned as I stared at the list, trying to keep my jaw from locking. The little cousins giggled in the hallway, but all I heard was the pounding in my ears.

I couldn’t even force a smile.

“Dad, Mom, we never talked about this security deposit before.”

My voice came out tight, the edge impossible to hide. I glanced at my fiancée, silently pleading for backup, but she just kept her eyes glued to her lap, fingers twisting the lace on her dress so hard her knuckles were white as chalk.

And this so-called code of conduct? It was so over the top, I half-expected to see a hidden camera crew waiting to yell, “Gotcha!” But there was nothing funny about the tension in the room, thick enough to choke on.

A “gratitude fee” for having kids? $42,000 for two? I did the math, palms sweating. How was I supposed to explain this to my parents? My dad would laugh until he cried, and then cry because it was real.

My father-in-law smiled, voice silky but with an iron core. “Son, it’s not too late to bring it up now.” He folded his hands on his belly, looking like a small-town mayor settling a town hall squabble.

“But $70,000 is too much, we—”

My mother-in-law cut me off, her voice clipped and cold. “It shows your family’s sincerity and attitude. You really think that’s not enough? Come on, show some respect.” Her eyes flicked over my wrinkled shirt, making me feel like a teenager getting scolded for muddy sneakers.

My face burned. Everyone was waiting to see what I’d do. This wasn’t how any of it was supposed to go. I thought we were here for a wedding, not a business deal.

I thought about all my family had already given. My parents might have grumbled about the expenses, but they wanted me happy. They met every request, no matter how last-minute or weird.

We’d given a wedding gift of $40,000, no hesitation. My mom even tucked in a handwritten card, sealed with her favorite pressed flower.

A week ago, the Parkers suddenly asked for another $7,000. We agreed. No fuss, no fight. My dad just sighed, pulling out his checkbook, muttering about how weddings eat money. “Anything for you, son.”

Three days before the wedding, they wanted another $14,000 for limos. After a quick discussion, we paid up—my sister even joked about getting a private jet thrown in. We just wanted everything to go smoothly.

But now, the morning we came to pick up the bride, they wanted $70,000 on top of it all. It felt like every time we got close to the finish line, they moved it further away.

Did they think I was some clueless tech bro with money to burn?

I tried to hide my frustration, but my grip on the “code of conduct” crumpled the paper.

Relatives piped up from the kitchen and corners—one uncle with a toothpick, another aunt balancing brownies, everyone suddenly a financial advisor.

“Who gets married without spending money?”

“My brother and sister-in-law worked so hard to raise their daughter, it’s normal to want a security deposit.”

“Isn’t your family in business? Don’t be so stingy.”

That last one stung, as if my family’s sacrifices meant nothing.

Anger and humiliation burned in my chest. The urge to snap back was almost overwhelming, but I swallowed it. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

But it was my wedding day. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs, everyone’s eyes on me, waiting for me to break.

I forced a smile, promising my fiancée would never be mistreated if she married me. My words were tight, but I meant them. I wanted them to know I loved her, no matter what hoops they made me jump through.

No.

I suggested, “How about we wait until after the wedding and both families sit down together to talk this out?” My tone was as calm as I could manage, hoping someone would see reason.

No.

Even my groomsmen tried to talk them down, but it was useless. Derek shot looks at the other guys, everyone’s patience running thin. The clock on the mantel ticked too loud. The church, the guests, the future I’d planned—all pressing in.

The wedding clock was ticking, but all I could hear was the sound of doors slamming shut, one after another.