He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Across town, Richard pulled his car into the quiet brick driveway of the Vance Villa. He killed the engine, letting the hum of the car fade into the afternoon silence. He sat behind the wheel for a moment, taking a slow breather to steady his pulse as his mind reeled from the confrontation with Christian.

He opened the door and made his way toward the grand entryway, his shoes clicking sharply against the stone steps.

Reaching the front door, he exhaled a sharp breath, intentionally dropping the lingering anger from his shoulders. He had a distinct mission inside, and he could not afford to let thoughts of Christian cloud his focus.

He had barely crossed the threshold into the cool foyer when his mother’s sharp voice echoed from the living room.

"Have you seen the news, Richard?" Margaret asked, her tone tight with tension.

Richard frowned, turning his head toward the sound. Sitting in her favorite velvet armchair near the tall bay window, Margaret held her phone tightly in her hand.

Richard assumed Christian had already recorded a bitter video following their altercation at the hotel. Locking that assumption in his mind, he stepped forward, crossing the floorboards.

"What are you talking about, Mother?" he asked softly, leaning down to place a warm kiss on her cheek.

Margaret pulled back, holding her phone screen up while her brows pulled together in deep disapproval. "This is precisely why I wanted you to talk to Cara," she announced, her voice tight. "Now someone has just corroborated her story."

Richard’s brows pinched together instantly as he took the device, his dark eyes scanning the glowing text.

The headline read: Cara Whitewater Really Pregnant? More proof emerges from an anonymous source.

He skimmed the article quickly, noting the official names of the medical facilities Cara had mentioned to them earlier.

Richard handed the phone back to his mother, his expression hardening into stone. "This means nothing to me. I know the truth, and the fact remains that I have nothing to do with her pregnancy," he stated, his voice flat and firm.

Margaret exhaled sharply, shaking her head as her posture stiffened. "Whatever the case, this chaos has to end," she insisted, tapping her finger against the polished armrest. "You must fire Roxanne and marry Cara. That is the right thing to do. That is the only path I will approve of."

Richard nodded slowly, his face settling into a serious mask. "That is exactly why I came to see you today," he said smoothly.

"I am not accepting anything otherwise," Margaret shot back, her jaw set in a stubborn line. "That Roxanne brings far too much drama with her, and she is most definitely not fit to bear the Vance name."

Richard took another breath, keeping his hands loosely clasped in front of him. "I did not ask to meet with you to argue. Or to negotiate," he said, his tone low and calm, though the sharp edge beneath it was unmistakable. "I wanted to meet you alone so that I could finally make my stance completely clear."

Margaret’s brows pulled together in a tight frown. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Richard held her stern gaze without flinching. "I will no longer tolerate the constant disrespect toward Roxanne. She is my choice, and she is carrying my child," he said, his voice quiet yet unwavering. "And when she is ready, she will be my wife. She will be Mrs. Vance."

Margaret’s chest rose as her temper flared. "What do you think—"

"I am not done speaking, Mother," Richard cut in, his voice rising just enough to command the room.

Margaret jolted, her jaw dropping slightly in sheer shock at the interruption. The quiet room suddenly felt tense, charged with an unyielding atmosphere.

"I do not want to reach the point where I must choose between my family and my future," Richard continued, keeping his eyes locked onto hers. "You already know what my choice will be if you force my hand. The sooner you accept that reality, the better for everyone involved."

Margaret shook her head fiercely, her fingers clutching her silk scarf. "Well, I do not accept—"

"Then you can assume that you only have one son. And that son is not me," Richard replied, his calm words carrying devastating weight.

"Do you even realize who you are talking to, Richard?" Margaret demanded, her voice trembling with disbelief. "I am your mother."

Richard nodded slowly, keeping his posture grounded. "I am well aware of who you are, Mother. But I think you fail to respect that I am a man now, and soon I will be a father," he said softly. "You need to start respecting me and my personal decisions. I am being polite about it right now. But the next time you disrespect Roxanne the way you have been doing, you can be certain I will not remain this polite."

The color drained from Margaret’s face, leaving her pale. "Why are you speaking to me like this?" she whispered.

"Because someone needs to tell you the truth," Richard answered, his brows pulled in a frown. "For God’s sake, Roxanne has been nothing but supportive of this family and completely respectful to you. She has done everything in her power to avoid public drama. Yet you, Mother, prefer to side with the people who actually create the mess."

Margaret opened her mouth to counter, but no words came out. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with confusion and hurt.

"If you are truly as loyal to this family as you claim, then your children’s genuine happiness should come first," Richard pressed on, his voice softening slightly but remaining resolute. "Not the endless politics you play with our lives under the guise of protecting our legacy."

"But that is all I am trying to do," Margaret murmured, her defensive tone crumbling.

Richard shook his head. "No, Mother. You have played your part, and it is time for you to step back and let us carry the torch, just as Father is doing," he said firmly. "We are no longer children for you to manage."

Margaret’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she remained silent.

Richard let out a long sigh, adjusting his suit coat. "There is one more thing I need to tell you."

Margaret pushed her head back against the cushion, fighting to keep her tears from spilling over.

"When this entire scandal settles, I no longer want you active at the company," he revealed calmly. "You have done enough for the firm. We will handle operations from here on out."

Margaret gasped, leaning forward in shock. "You cannot do that! You would not dare—"

"I am the president of the company, Mother."

"And I am a senior member of the board!" Margaret shot back, her voice cracking with fury.

"Exactly," Richard agreed coldly. "Which is why you will be officially voted off it. Maybe stepping away from the company will finally give you the chance to focus on what matters most. Your family."

Margaret swallowed hard, her brows furrowing as a stray tear escaped down her cheek.

Richard stood tall and straightened his lapels, taking a final breath before turning toward the arched doorway. "Have a lovely afternoon, Mother."

Margaret watched in silence as his broad frame disappeared down the hallway, the front door closing with a firm, final click behind him.

For the first time in years, she had no argument left.

Richard had not shouted at her because he hated her. He had spoken to her because he had finally stopped being the son she could control.

He was a husband in the making, a father, and perhaps she had been so busy protecting the Vance family that she had forgotten the people who actually made it a family.

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