He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Chapter 63: A Cream-Colored Envelope

Richard looked at her, the sharp lines of his face softening as he let out a low, tired sigh. "There is something else that needs to be done," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "I want the board to know the absolute truth."

Roxanne met his gaze, her fingers tightening around his. "Yes. Integrity is how we control them. That’s how we get them to stand with you."

Richard nodded, but he didn’t look away. The air between them grew thick, charged with a sudden stillness. "Yes. I am going to tell them that I am in love with you. And I need to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you are standing right here with me."

Roxanne’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, speech momentarily failing her. "You are going to confess to a room full of conservative billionaires that you are in love with a married woman?" She frantically shook her head, panic flaring anew. "No, Richard. You can’t do that. They will tear you to pieces."

"It’s the only way to protect you, Roxanne," Richard insisted, his grip on her hands turning fierce. "If our legal team is going to do damage control, it’s going to be for both of us. We are a united front. I just need to ensure we’re on the exact same page. Don’t leave me out here alone."

Roxanne looked down at their joined hands, her heart aching with a mixture of fear and profound affection. "I love you, Richard. That is the exact reason why this is a terrible idea. Just let me take the fall for now. Let me resign. Once the media circus moves on to something else, we can figure out a way to pull me back in."

"Look at me, Roxanne," Richard commanded firmly. He reached up, his warm palms cupping her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. He leaned down and kissed her.

When he pulled back, his eyes burned with fierce resolve. "We both knew this wouldn’t be an easy fight. I am your man, and I will never let you take the blame for something we did together. What I need from you right now is to fasten your seatbelt, brace for impact, and ride out the chaos that lunatic has unleashed."

A breath escaped Roxanne’s lips. The lingering warmth of his lips anchored her floating panic. She nodded. "I’m ready," she whispered, a grim smile touching her face. "And looking at the bright side, this is the absolute worst he can do to us."

"Exactly," Richard said, his jaw tightening into steel. "Once we dismantle this narrative, we’ll be entirely rid of him." His eyes narrowed to sharp slits. "Christian has no idea what’s coming. He dared to go against me? He will live to regret every single second of it. But first things first."

Suddenly, the phone buzzed aggressively against the wood, the vibration rattling the pens in their holder. Roxanne flipped it over, saw the flashing name on the screen, and let out a harsh, mocking scoff. She turned the screen toward Richard. Christian.

"Ignore him," Richard said.

Roxanne pressed the power button, plunging the phone into silence. "The nerve of him."

"He doesn’t matter anymore," Richard said, already reaching for his suit jacket. "We need to move immediately. We have to get to the Villa before the board members settle in. The last thing we want is for Pamela to control the narrative and poison their minds before we even open our mouths."

Roxanne nodded, her adrenaline surging as she stood up from the leather chair. "Let me run down to my office to grab my handbag so we can go."

"Don’t bother," Richard said, stopping her with a gentle hand on her waist. "Stay with me. I’ll have Libby fetch your things."

He turned toward the intercom on his desk, but before his fingers could brush the console, a sharp, frantic knock rattled the door. The handle turned, and Libby hurried in. Her skin was entirely drained of color, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

"Forgive the interruption, sir," Libby stammered, swallowing hard as she glanced between them. "But we have another problem."

Roxanne’s pulse pounded violently in her ears, a sickening wave of heat rushing through her veins. Another one? What could possibly be worse than a leaked video?

Richard’s dark brows knitted into a deep, dangerous frown. He looked past Libby’s trembling shoulder, out into the glass-walled lobby. Standing just beyond the threshold was the chief of Human Resources, holding a sleek tablet and looking exceptionally rigid.

"Close the door, Libby," Richard ordered. His voice was terrifyingly calm, but it held an underlying current of pure fire.

"Sir, HR is here to speak with Miss Westbrook," Libby whispered, her voice thick with dread.

Roxanne felt her stomach bottom out. The room seemed to tilt beneath her feet. HR arriving on the executive floor could only mean one thing. Christian had won. Her hard-earned career, her reputation, her entire future at Vance Enterprises were being incinerated before she even had a chance to prove her worth.

Richard didn’t flinch. He didn’t break eye contact with the doorway as he addressed his assistant. "Go to Roxanne’s office right now and pack up all her personal belongings. Bring them directly here." He paused, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "And send him in."

Libby nodded quickly and slipped out, closing the heavy doors behind her with a soft click.

The moment they were alone, Roxanne turned to Richard, her chest heaving as a terrifying chill crept up her spine. "What if they’re here to tell me the board has terminated my contract?" she asked, her voice cracking under the weight of the heartbreak.

Richard’s jaw clenched so hard the muscles leaped along his cheek. He reached out, grabbing her hand again, his grip tight, grounding her in his strength. "No one makes a decision of that magnitude without my express, written approval."

Roxanne opened her mouth to argue, but the door clicked open again.

The HR director stepped into the room, his expression completely unreadable, his posture stiff and formal. Roxanne’s eyes dropped instantly to his hand. There, held tightly against his side, was a thick, cream-colored corporate envelope.

A thick lump suddenly formed in her throat.

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