He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Christian gave a slow nod, his shoulders dropping a fraction as he looked across the circle of stone-cold faces around the boardroom table.

"I am willing to agree to your terms as long as it guarantees I stay out of a prison cell," he said, forcing a steady tone into his voice.

Richard offered a small nod in response. He turned his head slightly, exchanging a quiet glance with Henry at the head of the table. Both men shared a subtle gesture of agreement.

Christian’s eyes narrowed as he caught the quick exchange. The unspoken communication set off alarm bells in his chest. They are hiding something.

He leaned forward over the polished wood, his mind racing to regain control of the room before the trap snapped shut completely. "I have one small condition," he said, raising his voice just enough to hold their attention.

Around the table, heads turned sharply. Several board members pulled their brows together in disbelief.

"You actually believe you are in a position to demand conditions?" the board chairman scoffed, leaning back in his leather chair with a cold, dismissive laugh. "The man is entirely delusional."

Henry smiled faintly, shaking his head with quiet condescension. "The only question you should be asking right now, Christian, is where to sign your name on the paper sitting in front of you."

"No!" Margaret interrupted, her voice sharp enough to slice through the heavy air in the room. "He should be begging for mercy!"

Christian kept his gaze locked on the matriarch, his chest heaving as heat flushed up his neck. "Didn’t you say at the start of this meeting that we were here to negotiate?" he asked, sweeping his eyes over the hostile faces staring back at him.

Richard remained the only person in the room who looked entirely unbothered. His posture was relaxed as he leaned back. "Please, go ahead and speak," he said softly, his voice calm.

Christian adjusted his grip on the edge of the table. "You laid out your demands, and I have a condition of my own," he said.

The room fell into a heavy silence. No one interrupted. They simply stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

He didn’t care.

"I am not an idiot. I know that every person at this table needs my help."

Richard’s dark eyes narrowed by a fraction.

Beside him, Roxanne closed her eyes for a brief second, bringing her palm up to rest against her forehead. "Oh, Christian," she murmured under her breath, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

Richard leaned forward slightly, resting his broad forearms against the table, his posture radiating effortless authority. "Please, enlighten us. Tell us what we need you for."

Christian felt a surge of confidence wash over him, a small smile touching his lips. Now I secure my exit.

"You need me to publicly retract every statement I made," Christian said, gesturing toward the board members. "You need me to repair the massive damage done to this company’s public standing, to the executive board, to the Vance family name, and most importantly, to your falling stock prices. If you send me to jail today, you get none of that back. You know it, and that is the only reason I was brought into this room."

Margaret leaned back, letting out a harsh breath as she glared at him. "At least the fool still has a fraction of a brain," she muttered under her breath.

Henry sat quietly at the head of the table, his weathered face completely unreadable as he studied Christian. "What is it you want?" he asked directly.

Christian interlaced his fingers tightly on the table. "I want a signed, written guarantee from this board stating that I walk out of this building a free man the moment my signature hits that document."

Richard and Henry shared another quick, unreadable look across the table. But before either man could answer, Pamela slammed her hand onto her armrest, her chest rising and falling in sharp, angry bursts.

"You are not walking out of this building free!" Pamela shouted, her voice shaking with pure fury as she glared across the table at him. "You are going to rot in a cell, and no one is coming to save you!"

Christian’s head snapped toward her, his forehead creasing into a tight frown. A sudden spike in his pulse echoed in his ears. What? What is she talking about? He opened his mouth to confront her, but Richard’s deep voice cut through the air first.

"Keep your eyes on me, Christian," Richard said, his tone low and instantly commanding. "You are negotiating with me, not my sister."

Christian let his glare linger on Pamela for two long seconds, the air between them thick with unresolved history and bitter resentment. He felt a cold sweat break out along his spine.

Was her outburst an emotional slip, or had she just exposed the board’s real plan?

"My sister is angry, and given everything that transpired between you, her reaction is entirely understandable," Richard added, his voice returning to a calm register as he kept Christian’s attention centered on him.

Of course, Christian thought, forcing a wave of relief over his rising panic. She was still bitter. She’d always been bitter.

He turned his shoulder away from Pamela, fixing his eyes back on Richard. "Then tell her to keep her mouth shut while we talk," he said shortly.

Pamela opened her mouth to shoot back a sharp reply, but Richard raised a single hand, stopping her. She sank back into her leather chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. For a fleeting second, the rage in her eyes shifted into something that looked like pity.

But Christian quickly looked away. She was bitter, nothing more.

"You have my word that you will leave this building a free man," Richard said, his dark eyes holding Christian’s without blinking. He extended his right hand across the polished table.

Christian hesitated. His eyes stayed on Richard’s outstretched hand. One handshake. One promise. One chance.

Then, he took it.

His fingers wrapped around Richard’s palm, and squeezed firmly. They exchanged a single handshake before releasing and leaning back into their chairs.

"I will make that recording now," Christian said, picking up his phone from the table. "I can record the video right here in front of everyone if that satisfies the board."

A quiet beat of absolute silence settled over the room.

Then, from the side of the table, Pamela gave a slow shake of her head. Christian caught the subtle movement out of the corner of his eye, his brows pulling together into a suspicious line as he turned to look at her.

"I have a much better idea," Roxanne said, her voice dropping into a measured cadence as she addressed the room. "Instead of letting him record a private video in a closed room, why don’t we invite the major media outlets, the exact people that broadcast his accusations in the first place?"

Margaret’s brow furrowed in thought. "A live press setup could backfire on us."

Roxanne shifted slightly in her seat beside Richard, her voice dropping into an even tone. "It won’t backfire if Christian makes the calls himself," she said calmly.

Christian’s eyes darted sharply toward Roxanne, a cold knot tightening in his stomach as he stared at her. Is she actually sitting there, plotting my public destruction alongside them?

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