He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Christian’s head snapped toward the bench, his wide eyes brimming with unadulterated panic. He scrambled closer to his lawyer, his hand trembling so violently on the table that his knuckles rattled against the wood.

"She’s going to do the right thing," Christian whispered desperately into Mark’s ear. "She will, right?"

Before the judge could even clear her throat, Christian cut in, his voice ringing out sharp and unnecessarily loud in the silent room. "Before you say a word, Your Honor!"

The judge’s brow furrowed into a deep, icy line of disapproval.

"Don’t grant this divorce," Christian begged, his voice cracking. "She just wants to gallivant around town with her lover! It’s not because she hates our marriage or me. If you grant this, you’ll be making a massive—"

"I have only one question for you, Mr. Westbrook," the judge interrupted, her sharp eyes narrowing behind her glasses.

Roxanne’s heart skipped a terrifying beat. Why was the judge still entertaining him? Was everything she had heard not enough proof?

Christian nodded frantically, clutching the edge of his chair. "Ask me anything! I’ll answer anything you want!"

The judge interlaced her long fingers flat on her desk, her gaze holding him in place like a pin through a moth. "Give me one valid reason why I should not dissolve this marriage today. Just one strong reason." She raised a single finger.

Christian swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. "Because if you dissolve it, she will go straight back to Richard Vance. And he’ll think he won."

A bitter shock hit Roxanne. She shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her throat before she could stop it. He truly is out of it.

The judge’s gaze hardened further. "So, to you, this entire marriage is nothing more than a game of winning and losing?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Christian answered without hesitation, his tone rigid with conviction. "It is all about winning. And my wife is my biggest trophy. If I have her, I have everything."

Roxanne scoffed from her seat. "Unbelievable," she whispered into the quiet air.

"Then tell me, Mr. Westbrook," the judge continued, her voice unnervingly calm, "why did you ask your ’trophy’ for an open marriage?"

Christian’s jaw worked silently. He darted a quick glance at Roxanne before looking back up at the bench. "I. I never asked her for an open marriage," he stammered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

The judge’s face turned to pure granite. "One more lie in my courtroom, Mr. Westbrook, and I will have the bailiff take you directly into custody for contempt."

Christian’s shoulders collapsed. The air rushed out of him, his posture instantly slouching as defeat radiated from every line of his body. He gave a weak nod. "Yes. I asked her for an open marriage."

Audible gasps surged through the gallery. Beside Roxanne, Harry let out a quiet breath, looking over at her with a confident nod.

"But that doesn’t mean I actually wanted it!" Christian added hurriedly, his voice rising into a breathless whine.

"Is that so?" the judge asked. "Then why bring it up at all?"

Christian’s eyes darted frantically around the room. "Because. Because people say things when they’re angry. It’s not like I actually did anything wrong, or used it to—"

Roxanne let out a loud, mocking scoff that echoed off the high wooden walls. You have got to be kidding me. Catching herself, she immediately looked toward the bench. "I’m sorry, Your Honor. I couldn’t help myself."

The judge narrowed her eyes, though her tone held a hint of curiosity. "It sounds as though you have something to add, Mrs. Westbrook."

Roxanne looked at Christian, but he refused to meet her eyes, staring blankly at his own hands. She turned back to the judge, her voice steady and ringing clear. "He’s sitting here calling it nothing while his mistress is currently carrying his child."

A wave of shocked whispers rippled through the gallery like wildfire.

Mark snapped his head toward Christian, his face pale with utter disbelief. "You have a pregnant mistress? Why on earth didn’t you disclose that to me?"

"Because it’s a lie!" Christian spat, his eyes wild and bloodshot. "She’s lying!"

Roxanne’s lips curved into a bitter smile. "Since you came to court today with a USB drive full of video evidence, Christian, why don’t you pull that up too? The proof is sitting right there in your text messages and gallery."

Every eye in the courtroom pivoted to Christian.

In a sudden panic, he snatched his phone off the table and shoved it deep into his suit pocket, as if hiding the physical device could erase the truth.

Roxanne shook her head, leaning back in her leather chair. "I didn’t think so." She pulled her own phone from her purse. "I kept the receipts. And if you won’t show the court, I will."

Christian’s head whipped toward her, his face draining of color. "You saved those?" he asked, a bizarre note of betrayal in his voice. "Roxanne, that was a mistake! I apologized! Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

Roxanne didn’t even bother answering him. There was no reasoning with a madman. She tapped open the message thread, selected the explicit photos and text tirades sent directly from his pregnant mistress, and handed the glowing screen to Harry.

Harry stood up, holding the phone securely. "Your Honor, with your permission, I would like to approach the bench to submit the documentation of this ’mistake.’"

Christian’s wide, terrified eyes stayed glued to the device.

"Granted," the judge said instantly. She took the phone from Harry, skimming the screen. Her jaw tightened, and a look of deep disgust crossed her face. "Mr. Westbrook, is this your mistress?" she asked, looking at Christian.

Christian frowned, his throat bobbing. "I don’t know what they are talking about," he said.

"Very well." The judge handed the phone to the bailiff. "Project this onto the main display. I want the entire courtroom, and Mr. Westbrook, to read it clearly."

The bailiff plugged the device into the system. Moments later, the monitor illuminated the entire room with the glowing text thread:

Leave Christian so he can finally be with me and his child. Stop holding him back from having a real family. You can’t give him what he needs, Roxanne. Let him have his true happiness.

The gallery erupted into a wall of outraged chatter.

Across the aisle, Christian’s face went completely ash-white, his mouth hanging open in silent ruin.

Roxanne sat back, taking a deep breath, a victorious smile settling on her lips as the last piece of his illusion shattered into dust.

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