He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

The sound of swift, muffled footsteps slapped against the hardwood floor as the shadow vanished from the doorframe.

Richard and Roxanne exchanged a single, stunned glance.

"Someone was listening," Richard said, his pulse hammering like a drum in his ears.

He lunged forward, shoving the glass terrace door open into the private sitting room. The heavy brass latch of the far door gave a sharp, metallic click as it settled back into its frame.

Whoever it was had just slipped out.

Without looking back, Richard crossed the room in three long strides. He yanked the door open and burst into the grand hallway. At the far end of the corridor, a sliver of dark fabric disappeared around the corner.

Richard’s fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. A muscle in his jaw twitched with every heavy step he took against the rug. I will make whoever it is pay for this. And I hope for your sake it isn’t you, Cara.

He reached the end of the hall, but the space was completely empty. His brows pinched together. He stepped up to the wooden railing of the landing, his dark eyes sweeping the wide marble steps below.

Nothing moved.

His chest heaved, his heavy breaths echoing in his head. Where could they have gone so fast? He stepped right to the edge of the top stair and looked down into the open foyer.

"John!" he called out, his deep voice heavy with raw anger. "Get up here, John!"

Within seconds, the butler appeared at the base of the stairs, smoothing his jacket and looking up with a slight frown. "Sir? Is something wrong?"

"Who was just up here?" Richard demanded, his voice tight, his hand gripping the dark wooden bannister so hard his skin turned pale.

John blinked, glancing around the empty foyer before looking back up. "Up there, sir? I do not believe anyone has been upstairs."

"Someone was standing right outside the terrace door, John!" Richard snapped, his jaw locked tight. "They ran the second I opened the door."

"No staff member has gone up those stairs since Lady Vance arrived, sir," John replied smoothly, his tone remaining calm and polite.

Behind Richard, soft steps approached as Roxanne and Margaret joined him on the landing.

Roxanne reached out, her palm resting gently against Richard’s tensed forearm, sending a grounding wave of warmth through his rigid frame that eased the tightness in his shoulders.

"Did you catch them?" Roxanne asked softly, her eyes filled with concern as she searched his face.

Richard looked down at her, shaking his head through gritted teeth. "No. They moved too fast."

Roxanne turned her focus down toward the butler standing near the marble archway. "John, where are the rest of the staff right now?"

"Everyone is attending to their duties downstairs, ma’am," John answered respectfully. "I have been stationed in the main hall. No one came through the main staircase."

Richard opened his mouth to bark another order, but Margaret held up a single hand, cutting him off. Her posture was stiff, her eyes calculating as she looked down at the butler from the top of the stairs.

"Where is Cara, John?" Margaret asked quietly, her tone dropping.

John gestured toward the polished door on his right. "Miss Cara is in the formal living room, ma’am."

Margaret’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits as she gave a single nod. "I see." She turned back to Richard, her voice dropping into a firm, unyielding tone. "Wait here."

—

Moments earlier.

Emily’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird as the terrace suddenly fell silent.

The air in the carpeted hallway felt thick and hot, sticking to her skin. When the sharp click of the terrace door unlatching cut through the quiet, her stomach dropped into a cold void.

She spun around, pulling the door shut behind her, and bolted down the hallway. Her shoes barely made a sound against the runners, but in her head, every step sounded like thunder.

She turned the corner just as the shadow of Richard’s tall frame filled the doorway behind her.

I am going to lose my job. Oh God, Emily, what were you thinking?

Panic urged her faster. She flew down the back spiral staircase, taking the metal steps two at a time, her fingers sliding over the cold iron rail. She ducked into the ground-floor pantry area, pressing her back flat against the cool plaster wall.

She clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle her shallow gasps for air. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to force her racing heart to slow down. The quiet of the room did nothing to soothe her nerves.

"What on earth are you doing, Emily?" a quiet voice whispered nearby.

Emily gasped, her eyes snapping open. She pushed off the wall and grabbed her coworker’s apron strap with trembling fingers.

"I’m going to get fired, Tina," she stammered, her voice shaking violently. "I just heard the boss tell Lady Vance that he and the new madam are expecting a baby!"

Tina’s eyes went wide, the cloth in her hands falling to the floor. "Emily! Why were you eavesdropping—"

"I am not making this up!" Emily insisted, leaning closer, her breath coming in quick, shallow hitches. "I heard it with my own ears! But Lady Vance told them to keep it a secret!"

Tina shook her head frantically, reaching out to hush her. But Emily was too panicked to stop, the words tumbling out of her in a frantic rush.

"How do you think Miss Cara is going to handle this?" Emily whispered, her eyes wide with terror. "This is a disaster. I really thought she was going to be the lady of this house."

"That is enough, Emily!" Tina hissed, stepping forward to slap her hand over Emily’s mouth.

Emily shoved Tina’s hand away, glancing nervously down the empty corridor leading to the main hall. "Why are you so scared? No one saw me. I ran before Mr. Vance even got through the door."

"I’m not looking at the hallway, Emily," Tina said, her voice dropping into an icy pitch as she pointed toward the dark velvet armchair in the dim corner of the room adjacent to the pantry room. The formal living room.

The color drained from Emily’s face, a sickening coldness spreading from her stomach straight to her chest. She turned her head slowly, her jaw going slack.

"Miss... Miss Cara?" she choked out, the sound catching in her dry throat.

Cara sat back in the shadow of the wingback chair, an empty glass held loosely in her fingers. Her mascara was slightly smudged under her red eyes, but her gaze was dark, unblinking, and fixed directly on Emily’s face.

The clink of ice against her glass echoed softly in the quiet room.

"Pour me another drink, Emily," Cara said, her voice smooth, low, and terrifyingly calm. "And Tina, leave us."

Emily swallowed hard, the heavy lump in her throat feeling like lead as the quiet room seemed to close in around her.

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