He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

"Yes, I called Christian," Pamela confessed, her voice trembling as she buried her face in her hands. "But it’s not what any of you think. I had absolutely nothing to do with that video leak."

"Then give us a logical reason why you were on the phone with him!" Margaret demanded, her features contorted with a mask of fury.

Roxanne’s pulse spiked violently, a hot rush of adrenaline hammering in her ears. She clenched her fists beneath the table, the sharp bite of her fingernails against her palms the only thing keeping her from physically lunging across the table to force the truth from Pamela.

As if sensing the shift in the air, Pamela’s tear-stained eyes snapped directly to Roxanne. "I can’t answer that," she said.

"Can’t?" Richard asked, frowning.

Pamela swallowed and shook her head. "No."

"Then you are admitting guilt," Margaret said, her face stern.

"I’m admitting nothing." Pamela shook her head. "What I will say is that you are looking at the wrong person," she whispered fiercely. "The one you actually need to question isn’t even seated at this table."

"What on earth are you talking about, Pamela?" Henry asked, his steady voice offering a brief breathing space in the suffocating room.

Pamela swallowed hard, sniffling as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. "You all should be interrogating Cara about this. She is the only person with a real motivation to do something like this."

Roxanne’s brows furrowed, a sudden stillness wrapping around her chest. Cara. She hadn’t even considered her. Was it actually possible? Had she underestimated the depths of Cara’s desperation?

Around the table, a wave of confusion rippled through the board. Investors murmured in low, private tones, their expressions clouding with irritation at the shifting target.

"Cara is the only one who would gladly destroy the Vance name and not care about the collateral damage, just to get what she wants," Pamela pressed, her gaze swinging sharply to lock onto her brother. "You, Richard. She loathes Roxanne. She will do absolutely anything to ensure Roxanne is permanently fired from this company, so she can finally have you to herself."

"That is nothing but a pathetic theory, not a statement of fact," Nicholas countered, rolling his eyes as he looked across at his sister. He pressed a palm flat against his forehead, letting out a heavy scoff. "You’re doing it again, Pamela. It’s the exact same game you played as a child. The proof doesn’t lie. Your number was in Christian’s call log. Cara’s wasn’t."

Pamela swallowed against the dryness in her throat, her chest heaving. "I am telling you the absolute truth, Nick. I am not trying to deflect the blame here. If you think I’m lying, why don’t you call her to come down here right now? I will gladly repeat every single word to her face." Desperation bled through her voice.

"She has no business here today. This is a closed board meeting," Richard stated flatly.

"And that is not all," Margaret cut in, her voice ringing with an unyielding finality. "Cara would never dream of hurting the very family she is destined to marry into. She would certainly never sabotage the public image of the man she is going to spend the rest of her life with."

Roxanne’s jaw set into granite at the older woman’s words. The subtle cruelty of it hit her like a physical weight. Margaret was doing it again, openly, deliberately reminding her that no matter her talent, she would never have a legitimate place in Richard’s world.

Richard felt the sharp shift in Roxanne’s posture. He looked at her, his eyes burning with a dark, protective intensity, before snapping his head back to face his mother.

"I need you to stop saying that immediately, Mother," he said, his baritone dropping into a terrifyingly steady register. "I have already made my choice clear. My woman is sitting right here next to me."

He reached out, his massive hand covering Roxanne’s, his fingers intertwining with hers. "So unless you are planning for Cara to marry Nick instead, she is never entering this family. You need to stop pretending otherwise."

Margaret stared across at their locked hands, her breath hitching as a deep crimson flushed her cheeks. Her chest heaved with pure outrage. "I will never, under any circumstances, give my blessing to this farce!" she spat, slamming her clenched fist flat against the table. "The only woman who will ever bear the title of your wife is Cara! No one else!"

Roxanne let out a quiet sigh, a bitter wave of exhaustion washing over her. She shook her head slightly, realizing Margaret’s stubborn arrogance was a mountain that couldn’t be moved by reason alone.

Pamela looked at her mother, an eerie calm suddenly settling over her features as she shook her head. "And what if you discover she is the monster behind this entire leak, Mother? Will you still cling to your precious blessing then?"

Margaret scoffed, a look of absolute conviction flashing in her eyes. "Cara would never do that. Read my lips, Pamela. Never."

Henry turned his gaze toward his wife, a slow, disappointed shake of his head following. "You are projecting far too much confidence, Maggie. What happens if she proves you completely wrong?"

Margaret hesitated for a fraction of a second, her throat bobbing before she quickly lifted her chin, recovering her aristocratic bearing. "She won’t," she shot back defiantly.

Henry let out a long breath, clearly drained by his wife’s blinding stubbornness. "Do you truly believe the words coming out of your mouth, or is your hesitation because you are secretly terrified that, for once in your life, you misjudged exactly who to trust?" he asked, his quiet voice echoing in the sudden silence.

Margaret glared at him, her vanity entirely triggered. "I know exactly who she is," she snapped, reaching into her handbag. "And I will prove it to every single person at this table right now."

She pulled out her phone, aggressively dialed a contact, and placed it down on the wood before tapping the speakerphone button.

The line rang once. Twice. A heavy, breathless silence filled the dining room as everyone stared at the flashing screen. The line rang a third time, and just as Margaret’s brow twitched with irritation, the call finally connected with a soft beep.

"Hello, Margaret," Cara’s smooth voice purred through the speaker.

Margaret instantly adjusted her posture, leaning over the phone, her voice shifting into a softer tone. "Where are you right now, Cara dear? I need you to come down to the villa as soon as possible."

A brief, calculated pause stretched over the line before Cara answered. "I’m just wrapping up a private luncheon, Margaret, and I’ll be on my way to you shortly," she said, her tone dripping with cultivated sympathy. "I’m so sorry you’re all going through this. I know how painful it must be. I really believed Miss Westbrook would prove everyone wrong."

A triumphant smile spread across Margaret’s face. "It’s quite alright, my dear. We’re handling it."

Cara let out a delicate, mocking sigh through the receiver. "I suppose that’s the inevitable tragedy when someone like Richard decides to crawl down into the gutters to play with a woman who isn’t even in his social stratosphere," she added, her voice heavy with a sharp, unfiltered malice.

Margaret quickly darted her eyes across the table to Roxanne, clearly searching for a break in her composure, wanting to see her bleed under the insult. But Roxanne’s gaze remained flat and entirely level.

Disappointed, Margaret turned back to the phone. "Listen to me, dear, we will discuss the details the moment you arrive," she said, her voice dripping with warmth. "Please, hurry."

With a sharp tap of her finger, Margaret ended the call and looked around the room, her confidence entirely restored. "She is on her way. And you will all hear the truth directly from her own mouth."

Pamela shook her head, a look of profound pity in her eyes as she stared at her mother. "You are completely blind if you believe a single word that comes out of that woman’s mouth, Mother."

Henry didn’t let the distraction hold. He turned his heavy, dark gaze back to his daughter. "Pamela," he said, his quiet voice instantly cutting through her defensive wall. "You still haven’t answered my question. Why were you calling Christian Westbrook?"

Margaret nodded smoothly, interlacing her fingers on top of the table as she leaned in for the kill. "Yes, Pamela. If you honestly believed you could use Cara as a shield to hide your own guilt, you have failed miserably. Now. Start talking."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!