He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

"I need to make sure you’re safe first," Richard replied, his voice low and vibrating with a dangerous edge. "I will handle my family’s mess later."

"No, Richard," Roxanne protested, shaking her head defiantly at the empty hotel room. "I need to know exactly who is holding the knife and what kind of war I am stepping into."

"Don’t worry about that. I will handle it for you," Richard said, his tone softening just a fraction. "You just need to—"

"I don’t want a white knight to fix my life, Richard," Roxanne snapped, the raw stress breaking through her composure. "I can fight my own battles."

"This is a different kind of problem, Roxanne," Richard countered smoothly. "This is a Vance problem. And only a Vance can crush it."

Roxanne’s shoulders sagged as she leaned against the cool glass of the window. The harsh truth of his words hit home. If this blackmailer possessed enough leverage to threaten the Vance empire, she was entirely out of her depth.

"I never wanted to cause a rift between you and your family," she murmured, her throat tight. "Maybe we should just drop this, put some distance between us and focus strictly on our jobs."

"You aren’t causing a thing." Richard’s voice was an absolute anchor over the line. "You just met my family for the first time tonight. If we gave you the illusion of a happy, functional family, then I am deeply sorry to burst that bubble."

"Which is precisely why we need to step back. Just until the dust settles," Roxanne insisted, her knuckles whitening around the plastic casing of her phone.

"At this point, that will not do much," Richard said. "Christian is running on a wounded ego. He will burn everything down just to hurt you."

Roxanne went still, her eyes narrowing as a cold, calculating strategy began to form in her mind. "Then I will handle him," she said, her voice practical. "I just need to buy us some time. If I convince him that I’m reconsidering the divorce, he’ll hold onto that tape."

"You will not negotiate with that piece of trash," Richard barked, the sudden fury in his voice making the line crackle. "He won’t dare leak that footage. If he even attempts it, I will—"

"What, Richard? What can you do to him that won’t turn this into a front-page media circus?" Roxanne challenged.

"Whatever it takes," Richard replied flatly.

Roxanne shook her head, exhaling a long breath that misted against the windowpane. "I will manage Christian while you handle your family," she decided, reaching down to scoop up her leather purse from the armchair. "I’m going to tell him I’m coming back to the penthouse."

"No, you are not!" Richard commanded, his tone brooking absolutely no argument. "I am coming to the hotel now. Wait for me."

"Richard, no—"

The line went dead before she could even finish her sentence.

Roxanne dropped the phone against her thigh, her shoulders drooping as she stared at the darkened screen. "I swore I would never let you blackmail me again, Christian," she whispered into the silence of the room. "But I have to play this card before your stupidity ruins all of our lives."

With steady fingers, she scrolled through her recent logs and stopped on his contact. Her thumb hovered over the screen for three heavy heartbeats. Then, she tapped it and pressed the phone to her ear.

It didn’t even complete a full ring before the line connected.

"Where are you, Christian? I’m coming to meet you," Roxanne said, each word tasting like literal ash on her tongue.

"I knew you’d come to your senses, Roxy," Christian’s voice oozed through the speaker, thick with smug satisfaction.

Roxanne swallowed the rising tide of disgust in her throat. "We need to talk. In person. I’m on my way to the penthouse now."

"Perfect. I’ll run a warm bath for us while I wait, so we can get nice and cozy again," Christian chuckled. "I’ve really missed you, babe."

Roxanne scoffed, a cold sneer tightening her lips. She forcefully slammed her thumb against the end-call button, cutting off his voice.

"Pathetic," she muttered to the empty room, turning on her heel toward the door.

Roxanne’s car rolled to a stop in the driveway of the familiar penthouse. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she twisted the key, killing the headlights and plunging the dashboard into darkness.

Through the glass, the front door swung open. Christian stepped onto the threshold, framed by the warm interior light, wearing nothing but a robe.

Roxanne let out a dry, quiet scoff, shaking her head. Such a hopeless dreamer.

She grabbed her leather handbag and reached for the door handle, but the sudden vibration of her phone stopped her. She pulled it from her bag, the screen illuminating her face. Richard’s name blinked back at her.

Taking a slow, grounding breath, she swiped the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

"Where are you?" Richard asked immediately, his voice tight and thick with concern.

Roxanne kept her eyes locked on Christian’s distant silhouette. "I am at the penthouse," she said softly. "I told you, Richard. I need to handle this myself."

"But I explicitly told you to wait for me," he groaned, the frustration evident in his deep baritone.

"If you are going to handle your family’s mess, I might as well face the Christian problem," Roxanne countered, her voice steady. "After all, it was my choice to marry him. I should be the one to deal with the consequences."

"Not like this," Richard argued, his tone turning fiercely protective. "You should not be in that apartment alone with him. He is desperate, cornered, and not thinking straight. Listen to me, Roxanne. Please."

Roxanne watched Christian lean casually against the doorframe. A faint, sad smile touched her lips, and she let out a quiet sigh. "You forget that I managed him for years, Richard. Tonight, he should be the one worrying. I am no longer the naive woman he used to control."

"Don’t go inside, Roxanne. Please."

"I have to go," she whispered.

"I am driving over there right now," Richard said, the sheer weight of his worry cutting through the line. "I’m coming to get you out of there."

"No, Richard. Do not come here," Roxanne said firmly. "I will be perfectly fine. We will talk in the morning."

"Promise me you won’t go inside until I get—"

She cut the line before he could finish the sentence. Dropping the phone back into her bag, she opened the car door and stepped out into the cool night air.

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