He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

"No!" Christian yanked his arm back, tearing himself out of Officer Davis’s grip. He stumbled a step away, his chest heaving as he glared at the cops. "I’m not leaving! You can’t make me!"

Officer Davis didn’t bother arguing. He stepped forward, his heavy combat boots crunching on the gravel, and clamped his hand back down onto Christian’s forearm with iron force.

But just as he began to drag him toward the cruiser, Roxanne’s voice sliced through the humid air.

"Wait," she said.

The single word was quiet, but it carried a sharp authority that made everyone freeze. She kept her eyes locked on the officers. "He can’t leave just yet."

Christian’s frantic breathing slowed. A slow smirk spread across his face, his shoulders instantly squaring as he gloated. "I told you all. I told you she’d never actually let you treat me like this."

Theodore leaned down slightly, his brow furrowing as a shadow of concern crossed his face. "What are you doing, Roxanne?" he murmured, his voice laced with genuine confusion.

Roxanne didn’t shift her focus from Christian. "Just trust me, Theo," she whispered back.

Theodore studied her profile for a beat, then gave a single nod. The two officers also exchanged a wary glance.

Officer Timmons cleared his throat, adjusting his duty belt. "Did you change your mind, ma’am?"

Before Roxanne could even part her lips, Christian cut in, his voice dripping with arrogant triumph.

"Stop asking her stupid questions!" he spat, violently wrenching his arm out of Davis’s loosening hold. "You heard her loud and clear. Step back."

Roxanne said nothing. She stood perfectly still, watching with detached disgust as Christian swaggered back up the driveway toward her, a confident smile plastered on his face.

"I knew you’d come to your senses, Roxy. There was no way you’d let these outsiders humiliate me like this," Christian said, his voice dropping into a cajoling rhythm. "Come on. Let’s go inside and talk about this like adults. Just the two of us."

Roxanne let him finish. Then, slowly, her gaze slid right past him, completely dismissing him, and fixed directly on Officer Timmons.

"I did not change my mind," she declared, her tone flat and icy.

The smile vanished from Christian’s face as if it had been struck off.

"What I am saying," Roxanne continued, her voice echoing clearly across the driveway, "is that he cannot leave. Just yet."

Christian’s jaw tightened, a dangerous flush creeping up his neck. "What the hell does that mean?"

Ignoring him entirely, Roxanne looked down at the driveway. Her brows twitched as she took in the sight of her silks, her linen trousers, and her designer dresses scattered across the dirty ground.

The sight of her ruined clothes sent a sharp jolt of anger through her veins, but she forced her face into an unreadable mask before looking back up at the officers.

"He can’t leave without cleaning up his mess," she said, pointing a finger at the ground. "I want him to pick up every single piece of clothing he threw out here and carry it back into the house. And once he is finished, he can pack his own things and get out for good."

The color drained from Christian’s face. He let out a sharp, disbelieving scoff. "That is impossible! You can’t be serious, Roxanne."

"I am dead serious, Christian," she shot back, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. "You threw them out here. You put them in the dirt. You are going to put them back exactly where they belong."

Christian opened his mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips, but no words came out. The sheer shock of the demand seemed to paralyze him. He looked like a man trying to process a language he didn’t speak.

"Move it," Officer Timmons ordered, taking a step toward him.

Christian whipped around to face the cops, his hands trembling. "You’re not seriously going to make me do that. This has to be against the law! This is pure intimidation!"

"No, Christian," Roxanne said, her voice dropping. "It’s called accountability."

Officer Davis gripped Christian’s shoulder and guided him firmly toward the edge of the driveway where the pile lay.

Christian looked too overwhelmed, too thoroughly broken, to even attempt a fight. He glanced at Roxanne, then darted a panicked look at the neighbors still holding up their phones on the sidewalk.

Slowly, his entire body rigid with humiliation, he bent down. His expensive watch glinted in the sun as he scooped up the first armful of crushed silk and lace. He held the bundle against his chest and glared at her, his jaw dropping slightly. "You—"

"Take them straight to the laundry room," Roxanne said, her voice cutting off his protest before it could start.

The words died in Christian’s throat.

Under the watchful eyes of the two officers, he turned on his heel and carried the load through the front door. Within two minutes, he was back down the steps, his face burning a dark, blotchy red as he gathered the second batch.

As he reached the threshold this time, he paused, shooting a venomous look at the cameras filming from the street before disappearing inside.

Roxanne didn’t say a single word. She stood side by side with Theodore, her breathing steady and calm, watching with quiet satisfaction as the moment unfolded.

Ten minutes later, the front door swung open again. Christian emerged, this time pushing two massive suitcases across the threshold. The officers followed closely behind, carrying two more heavy boxes of his belongings.

"Did he get every single thing?" Roxanne asked, completely looking past Christian as if he were a ghost.

Officer Timmons gave a firm nod. "The house is completely clear of his property, ma’am."

A triumphant smile touched Roxanne’s lips. She finally turned her gaze to Christian, looking down at him from the top of the porch steps. "Now. You can leave."

Christian stared up at her, his mouth agape, the anger completely drained from him, leaving only a stunned disbelief. "I can’t believe you just did that to me," he whispered, his voice eerily quiet.

Roxanne turned away, looking at the lead officer. "Please remove this man from my premises."

Christian’s upper lip curled in a desperate flash of disdain. "You are going to regret this, Roxanne," he said, his voice dropping into a low, venomous promise as he locked eyes with her one last time. "I swear to God, you will regret this."

Roxanne met his gaze head-on, her chest rising and falling slowly. She said nothing. There was absolutely nothing left to say.

She stood on her porch, wrapped in the quiet strength of her father’s legacy, and watched as the officers escorted him down the driveway. The fight was entirely gone from his posture. But as they neared the back of the police cruiser, Christian caught sight of the neighbors still recording the spectacle.

His face twisted into a mask of pure rage. "Get that damn thing out of my face!" he barked, lunging slightly toward the sidewalk before Officer Davis pulled him back. "Don’t you dare record me!"

Roxanne watched, the smile returning to her face. The very weapon he had used to terrorize her for weeks was now burning him to the ground.

"You haven’t heard the last of this, Roxanne! I promise you!" his voice muffled as the door of the police van slammed shut, cutting him off from her world entirely.

Roxanne simply closed her eyes, took a deep breath of the warm air, and let the silence wash over her.

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