He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Roxanne’s head snapped toward the double doors. Her eyes went completely wide. Every drop of warm color drained from Roxanne’s face in an instant as her stomach dropped into a bottomless pit.

"I came to congratulate my wife. Since everyone seems determined to celebrate another man’s wife without him there," Christian said, striding past the panicked serving staff and anchoring himself at the foot of the long banquet table.

Roxanne’s breath caught in her throat, her lips parting in sheer horror. "Christian?" she whispered, the word barely escaping her lungs. Oh, god. No.

Every single head at the table turned toward the disruption as a wave of shocked whispers immediately rippled across the room.

Across the table, Richard’s posture shifted into something predatory. His dark eyes locked onto Christian, his fists clenching on the white linen.

"Is that—?" someone whispered into the tense silence.

"Who the hell is he?" Margaret asked, her features tightening into a deep, revulsed scowl.

"Hello, Mrs. Vance," Christian said, catching her question as he stepped further into the warm, candlelit dining room. He smoothed the front of his suit jacket, flashing a practiced grin. "Don’t you remember me? Christian Westbrook. We’ve met at the regional galas before."

He strode directly toward the head of the table, confidently extending his hand. Margaret stared at the open palm, her upper lip curling as if she were looking at a stain.

"What are you doing here, Christian?" Roxanne asked, her voice tight, a burning flush of raw humiliation rushing up her neck.

"What do you mean, Roxy?" Christian asked, turning his grin on her as he closed the distance to her chair. He planted a heavy hand on the back of her seat, the sickening scent of whiskey rolling off his breath. "I came here to support my beautiful wife on her big night."

At the other end of the table, Richard’s gaze snapped to the security detail frozen near the entrance. His face was a hard mask of absolute fury. "Why is this man inside the dining room? He was not on the guest list," he said, his baritone slicing through the room like a blade. "Take him outside. Now."

"Sir," the lead guard said, finally finding his footing and stepping toward Christian. "You need to come with us right now."

Christian casually waved the guard off, his smile turning rigid. "Of course not. I am here to support my wife’s career, and no one will stop me."

"Why shouldn’t he be allowed to stay?" Cara asked smoothly from her seat, swirling her champagne with a look of malicious amusement. "He is her husband, isn’t he?"

Roxanne shot a look across the table at Cara, her eyes stinging with a toxic mixture of unshed tears and restrained rage. She turned back to Christian, her voice dropping into a desperate whisper. "Christian, please. Leave right now. I do not want you here."

Christian let out a loud, mocking laugh that bounced off the high ceilings. "I think I just need a chair. I want to sit right beside my lovely wife," he said, looking around the table for a spare seat.

Richard stood up, his massive frame towering over the room. "Westbrook! Enough of this nonsense," he demanded. His tone was perfectly calm, but the undercurrent of anger in it was impossible to miss. "Leave this room this instant, or you will deeply regret setting foot inside a private event you were never invited to."

Christian’s grin finally shattered, his brows pulling together into an ugly, defensive knot. He stepped away from Roxanne’s chair, pointing a finger directly at Richard.

"Why are you so desperate to get rid of me, Richard? First, you arrange private meetings with my wife. Then, you suddenly hand her an executive position she knows absolutely nothing about. And now, you’re trying to ban me from the very celebration hosted in her honor?" His voice rose, dripping with accusation. "What exactly have you two been doing behind my back?"

The implication hung in the air like a suffocating cloud. Murmurs erupted around the table. Eyes darted between Roxanne and Richard, but no one voiced their concerns.

Before Christian could draw another breath, Roxanne surged out of her chair. The sound of her palm cracking against Christian’s cheek was as loud as a gunshot in the silent room. The sheer force of the slap snapped his head to the side.

Roxanne stood chest-to-chest with him, her hand trembling violently with a half decade’s worth of suppressed rage. "How dare you come into dinner and embarrass me?" she hissed, her voice vibrating with emotion. "How dare you try to downplay my efforts and my worth?"

Christian slowly touched his reddening cheek, a venomous smile spreading across his lips as he looked around the table at the stunned executives. "This slap, everyone, is the exact proof of what I just said. Have any of you actually asked yourselves how she got that chair?"

"Is that true, brother?" Nicholas asked, his brows furrowed.

"I hope it’s not," someone murmured loudly.

"How could he do that? She’s married, for god’s sake!"

Richard’s jaw tightened as he looked at the faces of the people around the table. Henry and Maraget exchanged glances again. Then—

"Throw this man out! This is an absolute circus!" Henry roared, slamming his fist onto the table, his face purpling with irritation.

"I agree completely," an international client muttered, pulling their plate away in disgust. "How did this person even get in here?"

"I am her husband," Christian yelled back, digging his heels into the rug, desperately trying to maintain his ground as the guards finally grabbed his arms. "I have every right to protect my marriage!"

Margaret’s face was a mask of pure horror, her composure completely shattered. "Why is he still speaking?" she demanded, her voice rising to a sharp, authoritative bark. "Every guest in this room will leave believing there is truth to this. Someone throw him off my property this instant! And I want him terminated from Vance Enterprises with immediate effect!"

Christian’s eyes widened in genuine shock, the arrogance instantly draining from his face. "Terminated? What is my offense? Desiring to stand by my wife?"

Henry leaned back in his leather chair, looking down at him with utter disdain. "You are being terminated because you have just turned a private corporate function into a public spectacle. We do not employ people who lack professional judgment," the patriarch stated coldly. "As for your marriage, that is no concern of this company. Vance Enterprises will never tolerate a staff member who airs such vulgar laundry in public."

"Or one who deliberately drags a disgusting scandal to my doorstep!" Margaret added, her icy gaze shifting from Christian to pin itself directly on Roxanne.

Roxanne stood frozen, her chest heaving as she breathed in the heavy air. Whispers and dark murmurs immediately flooded the long table like poison.

"Is he actually a senior executive at the company?"

"Why on earth would a professional act so recklessly in public?"

"What if there’s truth to it? The appointment was incredibly sudden—"

"Security!" Richard snapped, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the table. "Get him out of my sight!"

Nicholas Vance leaned back, a calculating look in his eyes as he watched his brother’s desperate reaction. "I don’t think this is your call to make, Richard. Neither is it yours, Mother." he shifted his cold gaze to Roxanne. "Let’s ask the lady. Do you want your husband to stay, Roxanne?"

Christian smiled, looking at her, his eyes pleading beneath the surface. "Tell them, Roxanne. I know you don’t want to humiliate your own husband in front of these people."

Roxanne stared at him, the memory of the locked door of the penthouse flashing behind her eyes. She saw every smirk, every late-night insult, and every single time he had tried to diminish her soul. Her lips slowly twisted into an expression of unadulterated disgust.

"I want him thrown out," she said, her voice dropping into a flat, freezing finality.

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