He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Silence enveloped the courtroom.

"On this flash drive are two clear video recordings showing Mrs. Westbrook, and I emphasize Mrs.," Mark’s voice sliced through the air, lingering over the title, "in the arms of a man who is not her husband."

A low wave of whispers rippled through the gallery. The judge’s dark brows pulled together into a subtle frown.

"With your permission, Your Honor, I would like to submit this into evidence," Mark said.

The judge gave a short nod. The bailiff stepped forward, took the drive, and walked over to the large monitor mounted on the wall, slotting it into the media port.

"The first clip, please," Mark instructed, watching the screen.

Roxanne’s heart felt like a trapped bird beating against its cage. Harry had explicitly warned her about this. If Christian’s team painted this as an ongoing, brazen affair, the judge could delay or deny the decree.

"Go ahead and play it," the judge ordered.

The moment the video flickered to life, the gallery’s hushed murmurs burst into audible gasps. Even the judge leaned forward slightly, narrowing her eyes at the display.

Roxanne swallowed against a dry throat, her hand trembling.

Theodore immediately reached over, wrapping his fingers around her cold knuckles. "Breathe," he whispered softly.

She nodded, but her eyes remained glued to the monitor.

On screen, the camera captured her and Richard standing in the dim corridor at the Vance Villa. She watched Richard cup her cheek, watched herself lean into his touch, their kiss intimate, tender, and undeniably real.

The raw heat between them on screen was obvious to everyone in the room. Roxanne glanced at the judge, desperately trying to read the unyielding lines of her face.

The first video cut to black, and the second began.

It was the footage from the night she had returned to the penthouse, Christian standing under the entry light, his voice raised, demanding to know why Richard Vance was there to take his wife away.

The gallery buzzed with renewed energy. Spectators nudged each other, leaning in close to whisper behind their hands.

Roxanne slowly turned her head away from the screen, her eyes landing on Christian.

He hadn’t shifted an inch. He sat with his ankles crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips, not even bothering to look at her. He knew he held the upper hand. For now.

"As you can see, Your Honor," Mark’s voice boomed through the speakers as the video ended, "Mrs. Westbrook and her lover, Mr. Richard Vance, have been engaged in an illicit affair. My client has tried repeatedly to address this breach of marriage, but she has flatly refused to end the relationship."

Roxanne pressed two fingers hard against her throbbing temple. They were twisting the narrative to make her look like a heartless adulterer, completely ignoring years of his emotional abuse.

"Mrs. Westbrook has made it abundantly clear that she prefers Mr. Vance because of his wealth and influence," Mark added, his voice dripping with deliberate venom. "As the owner of Vance Enterprises, he offers her career opportunities her husband simply cannot match."

"Objection, Your Honor!" Harry barked, springing to his feet, his chest heaving. "Opposing counsel is presenting wild character assumptions as established fact!"

Christian’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with ruthless amusement.

Mark turned toward Harry, letting out a soft, mocking laugh. "Oh, Counsel," he said, shaking his head with mock pity. "The video evidence is right in front of us. Exactly which part of that kiss was an assumption?"

"I’ll allow counsel some latitude. Continue," the judge cut in, her gavel striking the sound block with a sharp thud. "Counsel will allow the defense to finish his statement."

Harry sank back onto the wooden bench with a frustrated groan, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable."

Mark turned back to the judge, his posture perfectly composed. "Despite the humiliation my client has suffered on national news, and despite everything my client has endured beyond these recordings, Mr. Westbrook is still willing to forgive her. He is ready to welcome his wife back with open arms."

He paused, letting the silence hang over the silent room. "He does not want this divorce, Your Honor. Because he still loves her."

A bitter scoff escaped Roxanne’s lips. Love. She stared at Christian, whose expression had suddenly softened into a mask of wounded devotion. The sheer performance made her nauseous.

"Your Honor," Mark concluded smoothly, "my client respectfully requests that this honorable court dismiss this petition outright, so that he and his wife can return home and work through their marital issues in private. The defense rests."

Roxanne’s heart stopped. The blood drained completely from her face.

Return home? No. No, God, please no.

She lunged sideways toward Harry, her pulse screaming in her ears as panic seized her throat. "Harry, do something," she whispered frantically, clutching his sleeve. "You can’t let her dismiss this!"

Before Harry could even open his mouth, Christian leaned across the space between their tables. His dark brows pulled together in a look of anguish so convincing it made Roxanne’s stomach turn.

"We can fix this, Roxanne," he pleaded, his voice loud enough to carry through the hushed courtroom. "You know how much I love you. I don’t want to lose you, Roxy. Please."

Roxanne’s fingernails bit sharp and hard into her palms. A surge of white-hot rage slammed into her chest.

She wanted to spring from her chair, leap over the wooden barrier, and slap the fake desperation right off his face. But the moment her lips parted to snap, Theodore’s warm fingers clamped firmly down on her wrist.

She looked over at him, her chest heaving.

Theodore gave a small, slow shake of his head. "Don’t take the bait," he murmured, his tone steady and cool. "That’s exactly what he wants."

Roxanne squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second, trying to force her racing heart back into rhythm. "We can’t just sit here while he puts on a show, Theo," she whispered, panic lacing her voice as the nightmare of her past years flashed before her eyes. "If the judge believes him, I’m trapped. Harry, do something!"

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