He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Margaret’s jaw dropped. The blood drained from her face, leaving her skin an ash-gray pallor. She shook her head frantically, her fingers trembling. "No. It’s impossible. It can’t be the truth."

Christian merely shrugged, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Well, I gave you exactly what you paid for. Now, can I have my check so I can get the hell out of here?"

Margaret’s brow furrowed into a tight scowl. Her knuckles turned white as she clamped down on the slip of paper, refusing to let go.

Slowly, her sharp gaze swept across the massive table. Every executive and legal advisor followed her line of sight, their breathing shallow, waiting for her eyes to lock onto the traitor in their midst.

Roxanne narrowed her eyes into thin slits. Who the hell did he name? She scanned the faces around the room. The air was thick with the scent of coffee and nervous sweat, but everyone looked equally bewildered. Whoever the culprit was, they deserved an Oscar.

Henry leaned over the table, his forehead creasing with deep lines as he stared at his wife. "Margaret, who is it? Who is the traitor? What did he just tell you?"

"Why are you keeping quiet, Mother?" Richard demanded, leaning so far forward his chest nearly brushed the edge of the table. His voice vibrated with a raw curiosity. "Name the person."

Pamela’s gaze darted from Richard to her mother, her chest heaving as the silence stretched tight. When Margaret remained a statue, Pamela let out a sharp, dramatic exhale.

"Well, I’m just glad the truth is coming out so everyone can finally see I had absolutely nothing to do with this nightmare." She snapped her head toward Cara, her voice turning venomous. "Why don’t you start talking now, Cara? Tell everyone why you did it."

Cara’s face twisted with pure annoyance, her cheeks flushing crimson. "I am not the traitor! How many times do I have to tell you that?" she shot back, her voice cracking under the pressure. "I know what I’m guilty of, and it’s not filming that video or giving it to him!"

Roxanne caught the subtle shift in her wording. She shook her head, her voice cutting through the panic. "So you know who actually did it, then?"

Cara swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as she looked around the hostile room. She shrugged defensively. "No one ever asked me if I knew who did it. You all just jumped down my throat and accused me of being responsible, when I wasn’t!"

"So all this time you just sat there and kept their secret?" Pamela hissed, shaking her head in utter disgust. "You are a hundred times worse than the actual traitor."

Cara scoffed, leaning forward. "You don’t get to—"

"Enough of the pathetic bickering," Christian cut in. He extended his open palm toward Margaret, his fingers twitching with greed. "Hand over the check so I can leave you all to it."

A chaotic wave of murmurs instantly erupted. Board members whispered frantically, the legal team shuffled their papers, and Pamela and Cara kept snapping at one another.

Roxanne just watched the unraveling madness, a heavy sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

"Silence!" Margaret barked. She slammed her palm against the wood with a resounding crack that echoed off the high ceilings.

The room instantly froze, a suffocating quiet enveloping them all.

"Who is the person, Maggie? Please, just tell us," Henry pleaded quietly, his face lined with exhaustion.

Before Margaret could even draw enough breath to speak, Christian took a step closer, his hand practically thrust into her face. "I want my money now, Margaret. Give it to me, or—"

Margaret’s fingers suddenly went slack. She released her grip, and Christian snapped the check out of her hand.

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

"Are we really just going to let him walk out of here with a hundred million?" someone from the board murmured in utter disbelief.

Christian snapped the crisp paper between his fingers, his grin widening until his eyes crinkled. "It’s been an absolute pleasure doing business with you, Lady Vance. I’ll be eagerly awaiting the rest of my balance and, of course, the fulfillment of my other terms."

Margaret watched him, her eyes turning cold and calculating. She stood perfectly still, letting Christian take his first three triumphant steps toward the double doors. Then, she struck.

"Security!" she shouted, her voice booming with an authority that rattled the glassware.

Christian froze, his smirk instantly faltering. He whipped around just as the doors burst open, and two massive, stone-faced security guards marched into the dining room.

"What the hell is this?" Christian stammered, his eyes darting between the men.

"Take him," Margaret ordered, her voice completely devoid of warmth.

Christian scrambled backward, his hands coming up defensively as the guards closed in. "Don’t you dare touch me!" he said before glaring back at the matriarch. "What do you think you’re playing at, Margaret?"

Margaret didn’t bother to answer him with words. Instead, she walked right to him, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. With a swift motion, she snatched the check right back out of his hand.

"No one walks into my home and threatens my family," she said, her voice dropping into a low, terrifying whisper that cut deeper than a scream. "Not on my watch."

Christian scoffed, though a flicker of genuine fear danced in his eyes. He forced a twisted smirk. "This isn’t going to end well for any of you. You have no idea what I can do."

Margaret didn’t waste another second on him. She turned her back to him, facing the guards. "Throw him out. And if he so much as breathes near the gates of this Villa again, make sure his next ride is in the back of a black Maria. Now, get him out of my sight. I have far more important business to handle in this room, and I do not want to be interrupted."

The guards nodded in unison, grabbing Christian by his upper arms. They hoisted him off his feet and began aggressively dragging him toward the exit.

"You’ll regret this! All of you will pay for this!" Christian roared, his polished shoes scuffing uselessly against the hardwood as he fought the grip. "You have absolutely no idea what kind of devil you just unleashed!"

Margaret spun around, her eyes flashing with a dangerous promise. "One more word and I’ll ensure you spend the next decade explaining your actions to every prosecutor willing to listen. You’d better take your freedom and leave quietly." She snapped her gaze to the guards. "Get him out!"

With a final, violent shove, the guards hauled him through the threshold and slammed the heavy doors shut. His muffled threats faded down the hallway until there was only silence.

Margaret turned slowly back to the table. Every eye was glued to her, their faces pale masks of absolute shock.

Roxanne watched the older woman smooth down her blazer, feeling a strange chill. This ruthless, calculating display was exactly why she was the feared Lady Vance, the ultimate protector of the family empire.

Yet, Roxanne couldn’t help but feel a bitter pang of resentment. If only Margaret had used that same fierce protectiveness to welcome her, rather than to alienate her.

Margaret walked back to the head of the table, placing both of her palms flat against the dark wood. She leaned forward, the shadows of the room catching the sharp lines of her face.

"Now," Margaret murmured, her voice steady. "Does the traitor want me to speak their name out loud, or are they going to have the decency to stand up right now and confess to this room?"

A suffocating, paranoid tension gripped the air. People stopped breathing, eyes darting left and right, checking the micro-expressions of the colleagues sitting beside them, waiting for someone to break.

"I am only going to count to three," Margaret warned, her gaze boring into the crowd. "Three. Two. One—"

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