He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Harry turned his head, his sharp eyes full of unwavering focus. "Calm down, Roxanne. I am not losing this case, and I am certainly not letting you spend another day as his wife. Trust me."

The sheer confidence in his voice acted like an anchor against the rising tide of her panic.

Roxanne swallowed hard and gave a single nod. "I trust you."

Across the aisle, Mark smoothed the front of his suit jacket and rested his hands flat against the table. "Your Honor," he called out smoothly, "I ask that this court allow my client to speak directly. The court deserves to hear how this breakdown has affected him in his own words. Furthermore, we have witnesses ready to corroborate his account."

The judge leaned her chin on her hand, her eyes sharp. "Proceed, Counsel."

Roxanne let out a bitter breath. Witnesses? she thought, her eyes narrowing. Where on earth did he buy witnesses?

Beside her, Harry’s brow creased into a deep frown. He leaned sideways, dropping his voice to a bare whisper. "Roxanne, did you meet him after the day those videos were taken?"

Roxanne blinked, thrown off by the question. "Only at work. Never outside the office. Why?"

Harry sighed, staring intently at the floorboards for a fraction of a second before looking up. "Just making sure we don’t get surprised or anything like that."

Before she could process his worry, Christian stood up and stepped slowly into the center of the courtroom.

Roxanne watched him, her skin prickling. She knew every mask he owned, and as he turned to face the bench, she saw the precise moment he switched roles.

Christian looked up at the judge, taking a shaky breath. Then he turned toward Roxanne, and suddenly, thick, glistening tears welled in his eyes, brimming over his lower lashes.

Roxanne’s jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached. Unbelievable.

Christian wiped a trembling hand across his cheek, letting out a choked sob that echoed softly off the high ceiling. "Your Honor," he began, his voice cracking with emotion. He glanced around at the courtroom audience before locking his tear-filled eyes onto Roxanne.

"My only crime, and the only reason my wife is standing here today demanding a divorce," he stammered, his shoulders trembling, "is because I loved her too much. I don’t understand why she’s punishing me like this."

He turned back to the judge, lifting his hands in a desperate plea. "I don’t want to lose my wife. Please, Your Honor, give me the chance to save my marriage. Richard Vance has used his power and his billions to twist her mind. He has brainwashed her! I truly believe she is being held against her will."

A cold heat flushed up Roxanne’s neck as his lies filled the air, heavy and poisonous.

"Look at her!" Christian cried out, his arm shooting out to point a finger straight at her face.

Every head in the gallery turned in unison to stare at Roxanne.

"My precious wife shows every sign of Stockholm syndrome! She needs protection, and only this court can save her from him. Roxanne, I love you. I won’t give up on you."

Roxanne didn’t flinch. She sat frozen, forcing every muscle in her body into total stillness. She could feel the heavy weight of Christian’s gaze, practically begging her to burst out, to scream, to ruin her own standing.

She refused to give him the satisfaction. Her face remained a cold, unyielding mask of stone.

"Help me save my wife," Christian wept, letting the tears slide freely down his jaw. "Don’t grant this divorce. I know she still loves me deep down. Ask her yourself, Your Honor. She just needs help."

He bowed his head, turning back toward his seat with the tragic, slow walk of a heartbroken man.

A heavy silence fell over the room.

The judge slowly adjusted her glasses, her cool, observational gaze shifting away from Christian and landing squarely on Roxanne.

"Mrs. Westbrook," the judge said, her voice resonant and calm in the quiet chamber. "What do you have to say in response to your husband’s statements?"

Roxanne drew in a slow breath, feeling the cool air settle deep in her chest as she prepared to speak.

Roxanne looked directly at the judge. She caught the subtle flicker of skepticism in the older woman’s eyes, but she lifted her chin anyway. She had expected nothing less.

Stepping forward into the center of the room, her pulse hammered in her ears, but she forced every ounce of calm she possessed into her spine, holding the judge’s gaze head-on.

"All I want is to be free from a man who has abused me emotionally in ways I barely have the words to describe," Roxanne said, her voice steady and echoing through the quiet chamber. "I am asking for this divorce so I can finally move on with my life."

Mark let out a loud, dramatic scoff, looking at her with open disdain. "Do you actually want to move on with your life, Mrs. Westbrook, or do you just want the freedom to run straight into the arms of your billionaire lover?"

"Objection!" Harry snapped, his palm slamming hard against the wood of his table. "Opposing counsel is making demeaning, speculative attacks against my client, and I will not tolerate it!"

"Sustained," the judge said, her voice sharp as she pointed a finger at Mark. "Refrain from badgering the petitioner, Counsel." She turned back to Roxanne, her expression unreadable. "Continue."

Roxanne didn’t even grant Mark a glance. Her eyes remained locked on the judge.

"Mr. Westbrook’s team presented those videos, and I won’t pretend that isn’t me on the screen," she said softly. "But those videos don’t show what happened before they were recorded. They don’t show all the years of betrayal, manipulation, and emotional abuse I endured. They only show the end of a marriage that had already been destroyed."

Mark frowned, leaning forward. "Your Honor, the petitioner is asking the court to excuse adultery because she felt emotionally neglected."

Christian sneered beside him, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "Are you seriously trying to blame me for your cheating? That was all you, Roxanne. You made that choice."

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