He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

"Mr. Westbrook." The judge’s voice cracked through the courtroom like a whip. "Sit down. Your counsel will speak for you unless I address you directly."

Christian slowly lowered himself back into his chair.

Roxanne turned her head slowly, her chest heaving as her fists clenched at her sides.

She met Christian’s smug eyes. "I’m not blaming you, Christian, because playing the victim is your game, not mine."

Christian waved a dismissive hand, turning back to the bench with an arrogant smirk. "She’s emotional right now, Your Honor. I understand why. But none of this changes the truth. I am not agreeing to a divorce. She is my wife, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her."

A rush of anger flared in Roxanne’s chest, and her fists clenched tightly. "I would rather die than remain your wife for another day," she said, her voice trembling slightly as a tight lump of unshed tears burned in her throat.

A wave of shocked gasps rippled through the gallery behind her. The judge’s brows drew together into a heavy line.

Roxanne’s jaw trembled as she tried to keep her emotions in check, fighting the tears that stung the back of her eyelids. She turned and walked back to her seat.

Harry looked at her as she approached. Then he stood up and walked to the center, looking at the rest of the court.

"What would you do in her shoes? How many women here would want to stay with a man like that?" Harry asked, his voice commanding the entire room. "If your husband stole your application for your dream job and gaslighted you into believing he deserved it more simply because he was the man?"

The judge remained silent, her expression revealing nothing. But for the first time since the hearing began, her pen stopped moving.

Harry didn’t back down. The air in the room felt heavy with the weight of years of hidden pain finally coming to light. He moved towards the judge, standing directly in front of the judicial bench.

"My client walked into her home on her wedding anniversary, expecting flowers or a quiet dinner, only to find her husband, Mr. Westbrook, in your bed with one of his many mistresses, their clothes scattered across your bedroom floor? And note, this wasn’t one isolated incident. It was sustained conduct throughout the marriage."

The judge shifted slightly in her high-backed chair, her sharp eyes shifted to Roxanne before turning back to her legal pad.

"Stop telling lies!" Christian spat, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he half-stood. He turned to Mark. "Won’t you object? He’s lying!"

"Counsel! Caution your client! One more word from him and I will throw him out of my court," the judge said, her tone brooking no argument.

Mark whispered to Christian, and he nodded sharply, but his foot tapped restlessly against the floor.

Harry didn’t even spare Christian a glance. A dry laugh bubbled up from his chest before she could stop it.

"And that isn’t even the worst part," he said, stepping closer until he was leaning slightly toward the wooden railing. "Instead of apologizing, he told her that he wanted an open marriage, and warned you that if you didn’t agree, you’d just have to live with the consequences of his affairs?"

Murmurs erupted across the spectator benches like a sudden swell of wind.

"He’s making it all up!" Christian shouted, his voice cracking with sudden panic.

"Objection, Your Honor! Counsel is making speculations. There is no evidence for this," Mark said, half-standing from his chair.

"Overruled," the judge said calmly. "Counsel will be allowed to make his case."

"She’s biased! We should have expected this," Christian murmured, though his voice was audible enough for Roxanne to hear.

"Ridiculous," Roxanne murmured under her breath, laughing quietly.

"Go ahead, Counsel," the judge said.

Harry nodded and turned to the rest of the court. "As if that was not enough. My client would lie naked beside her husband at night, and he’d rather stare at nude photos of other women on his phone?" he asked. "These actions demonstrate a clear pattern of emotional cruelty."

A bitter smile broke across Roxanne’s face as the memories flooded her mind, burning behind her eyes.

"My client even went as low as begging her own husband to touch her, to make love to her, and you won’t guess his reply," he paused. "He told her to find someone else to satisfy her?" Harry stepped closer to the edge of the judge’s desk.

Roxanne was looking straight into the older woman’s eyes, a resolute smile on her lips, even as glistening moisture pooled in the corners of her eyes.

"Those are the things Mr. Westbrook conveniently forgot to mention, Your Honor," Harry whispered into the heavy air. "So tell me. What would you do in her shoes?"

A suffocating silence descended over the entire courtroom. No one dared to breathe.

Christian shifted restlessly in his seat, his polished facade cracking. He leaned sideways, grabbing Mark’s arm with a tight grip.

"You need to stop this," he hissed, his voice trembling with panic. "She can’t win this, Mark. I am not letting her divorce me."

Mark kept his gaze trained on the bench, his jaw tense. "Stay quiet, Christian," he muttered under his breath. "Control yourself."

The judge looked down from the bench, her expression softening into a deep furrow. She studied Roxanne, assessing the raw truth hanging in the air between them.

"There is one fundamental question this court needs answered, Mrs. Westbrook," the judge said, her voice quiet but resonant in the still room. "Is there any affection remaining? Do you still love your husband?"

Roxanne slowly turned her head, her gaze sweeping past Christian. For a split second, his frantic, pleading eyes met hers, but she felt nothing. No heat, no anger, only an overwhelming, icy void.

She turned back to face the judge. "The woman who loved him died a long time ago, Your Honor."

The judge gave a deliberate nod, letting the weight of those words settle over the courtroom. "And you fully understand the gravity of what you are asking this court to grant you today?"

Roxanne squared her shoulders, standing taller as if an invisible weight had already begun to lift from her chest. "Your Honor, I’m not asking this court to punish him or strip him of his life," she said, her voice clear and unwavering. "I am simply asking you to give me mine back. Let me go."

The judge leaned forward, her sharp eyes searching Roxanne’s face one last time. "You understand that once I sign this decree, it cannot be undone? It is final."

A flutter of warmth bloomed in Roxanne’s chest, a sudden, dizzying rush of pure hope. A small breath escaped her lips.

"Your Honor," she whispered, "that makes it even better."

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