He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Christian swallowed hard, his throat working as his gaze darted desperately around the table.

Finally, his eyes landed on Roxanne. The sight of her sitting beside Richard, calm, composed, and watching his downfall, ignited a bitter spike of panic in his chest. No. He could not accept defeat. Not in front of her.

"There is no way out of this, Christian," Richard said, his tone low and absolute.

Christian’s head snapped toward him. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped animal as his mind raced, wildly searching for a lifeline. If these people thought they could corner him so easily, they were dead wrong.

He slammed his open palm onto the polished wood, the loud crack echoing off the walls. "I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!" he snarled, his jaw locked tight.

No one reacted.

The board members simply watched him implode. Richard’s dark eyes narrowed to slits. Roxanne’s brows pulled together in a sharp, incredulous frown.

"What on earth is he doing?" Margaret muttered under her breath, her voice laced with disgust.

Christian glared directly at the matriarch, his knuckles turning white as he balled his trembling hands into fists. "You’re trying to frame me! All of you! And I am not going to sit here and let you drag my name through the dirt!"

Henry shook his head slowly, a heavy look of pity settling over his weathered face. "Playing the fool will not save you, Westbrook," he said, his voice quiet and dry. "Neither will lying."

"I am not lying!" Christian shot back, his chest rising and falling in sharp, jagged hitches. "And repeating it won’t make it true! These documents prove nothing. Oh, I see what you’re doing. This whole setup is a trap!"

Richard’s hands clenched into tight fists against the table. "You forged my signature to divert company funds into a ghost account," he said, his voice deceptively calm, vibrating with tightly restrained power. "The paper trail is sitting right in front of your face. Denying it only makes you look pathetic."

Christian’s hands were shaking so violently that he interlaced his fingers and pressed his wrists hard against the table to stop them. He darted a quick glance at his phone screen, checking to see if the voice recorder was still running. He wasn’t about to hand them a recorded confession.

Across the table, Margaret scoffed loudly. "We’ve indulged this farce long enough," she snapped, her eyes flashing. "We don’t need to listen to his denial. Ask his assistant. Or ask Roxanne. They are both sitting right here."

Roxanne shook her head immediately, her posture rigid. "I knew nothing about this," she said, her voice clear and even. "I didn’t even know these records existed until an hour ago."

She shifted her gaze across the table, locking eyes with Amelia. "Amelia, take a look at those documents. Tell the board if you recognize any of it, or if you know how that deal went down."

Christian’s blood roared in his ears, so loud he was certain the whole room could hear it. His foot began to tap a frantic rhythm against the carpet. "Don’t listen to them, Amelia!" he barked before she could even lean forward. "She doesn’t know what she’s talking about!"

"Go ahead, Amelia," Richard interjected, his deep voice slicing effortlessly over Christian’s panic. "Tell us what you know."

Amelia looked from Christian’s wild, pleading eyes to the stern, expectant faces surrounding the table. She wrung her fingers in her lap, swallowing hard. Slowly, she pushed herself up from her chair and walked toward Christian’s side of the table where the binder lay open.

As she reached the document, her eyes scanned the forged authorization sheet. Her hands began to tremble.

"Amelia?" Pamela said softly from across the room. "Don’t be afraid. You’re doing the right thing."

Amelia looked up at Pamela, her lower lip quivering as tears brimmed in her eyes. She gave a quick, terrified shake of her head. "I don’t want to go to jail," she whimpered, her voice cracking.

Richard met her frightened gaze, his posture steady and reassuring. "You aren’t going to jail, Amelia. It’s clear to everyone in this room that you didn’t forge my signature. You were simply taking orders from your superior."

Amelia let out a shaky breath, nodding rapidly. "Yes, sir. I had nothing to do with the forgery. I swear I didn’t!"

"You can’t trust a word they say, Amelia!" Christian pleaded, his voice rising in desperation as he leaned over the table. "They’re setting you up! They’ll throw you in a cell the second you open your mouth! Who gave you this job? Who protected you? Who covered your mistakes? Don’t let them trick you!"

"Why don’t you let her speak, Christian?" Roxanne cut in, her tone laced with cool contempt. "She is a grown woman. She can think for herself."

Christian’s eyes snapped to Roxanne, burning with bitter betrayal. "I can’t believe you’re siding with my enemies," he spat.

"Save the drama, Christian," Roxanne said, her voice dropping. She turned her attention entirely back to Amelia. "Everyone in this room is listening. You have a choice to make right now, and that choice is going to determine the rest of your life."

Amelia looked at Roxanne, nodding once as a single tear escaped and tracked down her pale cheek. She looked at Christian, then down at the open file bearing the forged signature. She took a deep breath, her shoulders straightening.

"He did it," Amelia declared, her voice ringing clear across the silent room. "He forged Mr. Vance’s signature and siphoned the ten million."

Christian’s face drained of what little color remained. "Lies!" he choked out, his heart slamming wildly against his ribs. "She’s lying!"

Amelia ignored him entirely. She stood taller now, her chin lifted as she looked directly at Roxanne. "I realized what he had done when he tasked me with picking up the official account opening documentation. Later, during a private meeting with the client, Mr. Westbrook presented those signed agreements. The client was confused and asked why Mr. Vance wasn’t present to sign the papers himself, and Christian told him that Mr. Vance had personally authorized him to act on his behalf."

Christian opened his mouth to shout her down, but Amelia kept going, her voice gaining strength with every word.

"That’s the real reason he never let me go," she said, turning her head to throw a cold, disgusted look at Christian. "He threatened me. He told me that because I handled those files, I knew too much, and if he ever went down, he would make sure I went down first."

Henry’s dark eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his weathered hands resting on the table. "What else do you know, Amelia?"

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