He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Christian slammed the binder shut, the hard leather cover crashing against the mahogany table with a sharp crack. He fixed Amelia with a harsh glare.

"You really are even more gullible than I thought," he said, giving a slow, mocking shake of his head.

Amelia’s brows pulled together, her mouth parting to speak, but Christian thrust a single, commanding finger into the air to cut her off.

"You just successfully incriminated yourself in front of a room full of witnesses," he sneered, leaning over the table.

Amelia’s chin trembled slightly, but she stood her ground. "I’m sorry, sir," she said, her voice shaking with a mixture of fear and resolve. "I have to tell them everything. It’s the only way I stay out of prison. I warned you this day would come."

A cold beat skipped in Christian’s chest.

Amelia looked entirely unhinged, like a woman who wouldn’t stop until she burned his life to the ground. Desperate, he reached down and tapped his phone screen, stopping the voice recording before she blurted out anything else onto his own device.

"Amelia." Christian hissed under his breath, his voice dropped dangerously low. "Think carefully before you answer."

Amelia stared at him, her forehead creasing. For a second, he thought his threat had landed.

Then she turned back to the board.

"Mr. Westbrook repeatedly forced me to accompany him to private meetings with off-market clients," Amelia continued, her voice growing steady. "I knew he was digging a hole, so I kept copies of the emails and wire transfers to prove his guilt. If you allow me, I can retrieve them from my desk right now."

Christian’s eyes widened in horror. She kept records. The realization hit him like a physical blow, leaving him lightheaded with rage. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have trusted her? Damn you, Amelia!

"Enough, Amelia! Stop talking!" Christian barked, the veins along his throat bulging against his collar. His chest heaved in ragged hitches. "Do you hear yourself? You’re confessing to being an accomplice!"

Amelia didn’t even look at him. "I was present in the room when Mr. Westbrook signed the forged documents and moved the capital into three offshore accounts," she revealed, her voice clear. "Accounts he opened using his grandmother’s maiden name."

Across the table, Margaret scoffed, shaking her head in disdain. "What a foolish girl."

Henry’s brow furrowed, a heavy, stern look settling over his features. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "We appreciate your honesty now, Amelia," Henry said, his deep voice slicing through the room. "But the question remains, why didn’t you bring this to us four years ago?"

"Sir, I—"

"Do you not realize where your loyalty should have been?" Henry demanded softly, poking a firm finger onto the polished wood. "Your loyalty belonged to this company, Amelia."

Amelia opened her mouth to apologize, but Christian had reached his absolute limit. He wasn’t going to sit here and let his former assistant dismantle the rest of his life.

"Shut up, Amelia!" he roared, slamming his fist onto the table so hard a glass rattled.

Silence slammed down over the room. Around the table, several board members simply shook their heads in utter disgust, watching him unravel.

Christian looked around at the circle of unbothered, stony faces. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice raw, his eyes darting frantically from person to person. "Why are you dragging all of this out?"

Richard leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and interlacing his long fingers. The movement was smooth and deliberate.

"I want to hear you say it," Richard said quietly. "I want to hear what you have to say about these records, Christian? Has your memory suddenly returned?"

Christian let out a bitter scoff, shaking his head as he collapsed back into his chair. There was nowhere left to run. Every lie he’d prepared had already been destroyed before he could use it.

"What more do you want me to say?" Christian muttered, his voice dropping into a hollow rasp. "You clearly have everything. You know the truth. So why don’t you cut the games and tell me what you want from me? Besides trying to lock me up."

Richard’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, tracking the shift in Christian’s posture.

Desperate for a lifeline, Christian turned his head toward Roxanne. "Are you just going to sit there while they send me to prison?" he asked, his tone shifting into a pleading whine.

Roxanne’s face remained entirely stoic, her hands resting calmly beside Richard’s on the table.

"Roxanne, please," Christian pressed, leaning toward her. "I loved you. We had a life together. Things weren’t always like this. How can you throw all of that away?"

Roxanne looked back at him. There was no anger in her eyes, only a profound pity.

Christian’s gut twisted with sudden humiliation, his lip curling into a bitter sneer. "I never thought I’d see the day," he spat, shaking his head. "My own wife, sitting at the same table as my enemies, helping them ruin my life."

"I’m not your wife. And you brought every bit of this on yourself, Christian," Roxanne said softly.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" Christian’s eyes stung with heat as he glared at her. "After all these years?"

"That’s enough. Are you ready to confess to your crimes now?" Margaret interjected, her sharp voice cutting through the emotion. "Or are we going to waste more time?"

Christian snapped his glare toward the matriarch. "Bitter old woman," he muttered. He straightened his shoulders, forcing a defiant edge back into his posture. "I’m not confessing to anything without my attorney present."

Henry chuckled softly, a quiet, mocking sound that echoed off the ceiling. "Do you honestly believe your lawyer can save you now, Christian? Especially after the disaster he handed you in court this morning?"

Christian swallowed hard, his confidence faltering once again. As much as he hated to admit it, Henry was right. His legal team had been completely outmaneuvered.

"I’ll hire a new one," Christian gritted out, refusing to bow his head. He laughed, but it wasn’t confident. "Why don’t you go ahead. Call the police. Let’s get this over with."

Richard leaned in closer, a slow, razor-thin smile curving his lips. "What if I told you that you don’t have to go to prison?" Richard said smoothly, his voice calm and utterly unexpected.

Christian’s head snapped toward Richard, his brows pulling into a suspicious knot. What kind of sick game is he playing now?

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