When my husband gave me a terrifying ultimatum—have a sixth child or face divorce—he never imagined I’d turn the tables. I showed him just how unreasonable he was being, and by the end, he was begging for forgiveness on his knees.

Danny, my husband, was a loving father to our five daughters and a successful businessman. But recently, his obsession with having a son to carry on his name had turned into constant pressure—and finally, threats. “We NEED a sixth child,” he insisted coldly one night, hinting at divorce if I didn’t agree.

Shocked and hurt, I decided to teach him a lesson. The next morning, I packed a bag and vanished to my late mother’s country home, leaving him alone with the girls. Watching him from our home’s cameras was both hilarious and satisfying—burned toast, screaming kids, Play-Doh in the carpet. He was overwhelmed within hours.

By the second day, Danny was desperate. He sent tearful messages and a video of himself kneeling in the bathroom, begging me to come back. When I returned, he promised to never pressure me again. From that moment on, he changed. He became more present, braided our daughters’ hair, and never brought up having a sixth child again. And just like that, we found our true happy ending.