He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Roxanne darted forward, her fingers wrapping around Richard’s forearm before he could reach the door.

The sudden grip brought him to a halt, and his dark eyes snapped back to hers. She faltered for a fraction of a second, seeing the determination burning in his gaze.

Her hand slipped away from his sleeve, her fingers falling limp at her side. "Richard, don’t do this," she whispered, her eyes locked onto his.

Richard exhaled a sharp breath. He reached out, his warm palm briefly cupping her cheek, before he shook his head. "I’m sorry," he murmured softly, turning back toward the exit.

"Richard!" Roxanne called out after his retreating figure, her voice echoing in the quiet office. He didn’t turn around. "You promised to let me handle this," she said, her tone quiet, laced with betrayal.

Richard stopped dead in his tracks. For a long moment, he stood motionless in the middle of the quiet office. Then he whirled around, his brow pulled tight in a deep furrow, looking like a man fighting a furious war inside his own mind.

He closed the distance between them with quick strides, stopping mere inches from her. "Do you even realize what you are asking me to do?" he asked, his voice rough.

Roxanne held his intense gaze, swallowing the hard lump forming in her throat. "I am asking you to let me finish what I—"

"You are asking me to stand here and watch while she tears your life apart!" Richard shot back, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"Well, I am still standing," Roxanne said, keeping her voice completely calm despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

Richard shook his head, a harsh scoff escaping his lips. "No, Roxanne. I can’t do that," he said firmly, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "You are the woman I love, Roxanne. How am I supposed to stand here and watch someone try to destroy you?" he added, shaking his head as if the mere thought burned him.

"I know, Richard." Roxanne stepped closer, reaching up to rest a hand against his chest. "I know you want to protect me. But the absolute best thing you can do for me right now is stand beside me and trust me."

Richard stared down into her eyes for several long seconds. The tension in his shoulders seemed to thaw, and for a fleeting moment, Roxanne believed he was going to yield. But then his shoulders dropped, a weary sigh escaping his lips.

"I’m sorry," he said quietly.

Before she could utter another word of protest, he turned on his heel, grabbed the metal handle, opened the heavy door, and stepped out into the hallway.

Roxanne stood frozen in the middle of the room, staring at the closed door as the soft click of the latch settled into the quiet space. She exhaled a steadying breath, running a hand over her face.

Then she turned slowly toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. If he was truly determined to walk out those doors and confront Cara in front of the press, she wanted to see every single second of it unfold.

Yet, somewhere deep in her heart, she held onto a tiny thread of hope that he would see reason before he reached the lobby below.

Reaching the window, she looked down at the wide plaza.

Cara was still standing on the concrete steps, looking small and isolated, caught between the wall of aggressive reporters and the locked building. Roxanne shook her head slowly, a faint trace of pity washing over her before it turned back to ice.

Down on the hot pavement, Cara raised her chin to face the sea of flashing cameras. Her mind was a chaotic whirlwind, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs as the humid air hung heavy around her.

"Are you going to make a statement, Miss Cara?" a reporter called out, her sharp tone dripping with impatience.

"If Mr. Vance is really the father of your unborn child, why are his security guards keeping you out of his building?" another journalist yelled, pushing his microphone forward.

"Is there something you aren’t telling us about this whole story?" a third chimed in, his eyes gleaming with professional hunger.

Cara’s gaze snapped toward the last reporter, her mind racing in overdrive. Her mouth opened to launch into another attack, but Roxanne’s calm words echoed in her mind, drowning out the noise of the crowd.

Refute the claims. Tell them you lied.

She looked at the sea of eager faces, the lenses pointing directly at her face. Roxanne was asking her to destroy herself in front of every camera in the city. She shook her head in slow, desperate denial.

No. There had to be another way out of the corner she had backed herself into. She just needed a minute to think, a single opening to spin the narrative back in her favor.

Suddenly, the rapid barrage of questions stuttered and died down. The reporters began turning around, their collective attention shifting away from her to the space behind the glass doors.

"Is that Mr. Vance?" a photographer asked, squinting.

Cara whirled around, her breath catching in her throat. Looking through the heavy glass doors of the grand lobby, her face lit up with immediate relief. Richard was standing right there in the brightly lit foyer.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. He came for me, she thought, a desperate wave of joy washing over her as her lips curved into a wide smile.

Before her brain could process the move, her feet were already carrying her across the stone steps toward the glass wall. Her smile widened with every step, her hands reaching out as if she could touch him through the barrier.

She stopped right in front of the doors, her breath fogging the glass slightly. "I knew you wouldn’t leave me out here," she breathed, her voice trembling with raw relief.

On the other side, a uniformed security guard reached toward the control panel to release the automatic lock. But before his fingers could graze the button, Richard raised a hand, stopping the guard instantly.

Cara’s eyebrows pulled together in a confused frown. "Richard?"

Richard looked directly through the glass at her. His face was entirely unreadable at first, cold and distant. Then, his expression hardened. He turned toward the guards and gave them a short command, and they immediately stepped back from the entrance.

Richard turned on his heel and walked straight back toward the private elevators. Just like that.

Cara lunged forward, her palms slapping flat against the cold glass. "Richard! Where are you going?" she screamed, her heart hammering like a trapped bird inside her ribs.

"What just happened? Why did he walk away from you?" a reporter barked from behind her, the crowd surging closer to the glass.

Cara’s gaze snapped back to the reporters in total terror. She backed away from the doors, her head snapping upward toward the top floor to see if Richard had returned to his desk.

Instead of Richard, she saw Roxanne standing by the window.

Up on the top floor, Roxanne met her frantic gaze across the distance. Then, Roxanne’s lips curved into a smile.

Before Cara could react, Roxanne stepped back into the shadows of the office, disappearing completely. Her blood ran cold. The sudden wave of dizziness hit her so hard she had to grab the handrail to steady her shaking knees.

"Would you like to make an official statement now, Cara?" a reporter pressed, thrusting a recorder near her face.

Before Cara could gather enough air to answer, the wailing sound of sirens echoed down the street, cutting through the ambient city noise.

The sudden sound made her freeze in place, her eyes wide with terror.

A loud mechanical hum clicked behind her, and the glass doors swooshed open. Three uniformed security guards stepped through the opening and headed straight toward her.

Cara’s blood ran cold.

They weren’t coming to let her inside.

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