He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

"That bastard deserves to be thrown out like trash after everything he’s done," Richard sneered, his lips curling in pure disdain.

Roxanne’s smile was cold and entirely devoid of fear. "I am reclaiming my life from him, Richard. And I’m not leaving a single stone unturned."

Richard studied her, his brows furrowing as he caught the subtle shift in her tone. "I agree with you completely," he said, his voice dropping as he searched her eyes. "But I feel like you’re saying more than I’m actually hearing right now."

Roxanne let out a soft laugh. "Maybe I am. I’m not just going to take my life back from him. I meant it literally when I said I’m going to take the very roof over his head."

Richard nodded slowly. "There’s nothing I want more than to see him on the street," he said, his hand sliding back to squeeze her fingers. "But we both know you can’t just walk in there and do this today. Christian isn’t going to hand over the keys. Let him have the place for now. We’ll get you a temporary luxury suite, and when this entire storm blows over, you can just move in with me."

The suggestion was incredibly tempting, and the warmth in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. But Roxanne slowly shook her head.

"No," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for negotiation. "If anyone is leaving, it’s going to be him. That penthouse is mine."

Richard looked at her. "Roxanne—"

"That penthouse belongs to me," Roxanne cut in sharply.

"Yours?" Richard’s brows pulled together in confusion. "What do you mean? I thought you two own it."

Roxanne looked down at their joined hands, her throat tightening. "That penthouse is the last thing I have left of my father."

Richard frowned, leaning in closer. "I don’t follow."

"It’s my inheritance," Roxanne revealed, her voice softening. "My father bought it six months before he passed away. It was his last gift to me."

Richard’s eyes widened slightly as the weight of her words registered. "Seriously? The house is in your name?"

Roxanne nodded, a fierce pride cutting through her grief. "Yes. My father was a pragmatic man. He always believed that every woman should own a piece of property that no man could ever take away from her. That house is mine."

Richard shook his head, his jaw clenching. "So that lowlife literally locked you out of your own house?" he muttered, more to himself than to her. He looked back up at her, his eyes burning. "Does he even know you own the place?"

Roxanne let out a weary sigh. "He knows," Roxanne said. "During our marriage, he convinced me that what was mine was ours. I stopped correcting him. Today, I’ll remind him whose name is on the deed."

"That absolute scum," Richard growled through clenched teeth, his knuckles turning white. "He had the audacity to bring his mistresses into your house?"

Roxanne merely offered a tight, sarcastic shrug. The silence spoke volumes.

Richard exhaled a sharp breath, instantly reaching into his pocket. "Just tell me what you need. I will make some calls, get the lawyers on standby, and ensure the entire transition is seamless."

Roxanne reached out, her fingers brushing against his forearm to stop him. "That property is mine, Richard. When I show up to take the keys back, I have to do it alone. I need to look him in the eye when I strip him of his comfort."

"Absolutely not," Richard said, his voice flat and unyielding as he pulled out his phone.

"Richard, remember what Harry just said," she urged, her voice a desperate whisper as she tried to make him see reason. "If Christian gets even a single photo of you accompanying me to that penthouse, he will paint it as a home invasion by an angry lover. It will ruin the divorce case before it even starts."

Richard stared at her, his chest rising and falling in frustrated breaths. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t put his phone away either. Instead, he quickly scrolled through his contacts and pressed the device to his ear.

"Good afternoon, Chief," Richard said, his baritone voice instantly adopting a cold authority. "I need a personal favor. I’m sure you’ve been keeping up with the news regarding my family."

He paused, listening to the crackle of the voice on the other end.

"A woman has been illegally locked out of her own property," Richard continued, his eyes locked onto hers.

He paused, listening.

Richard nodded. "Yes, it’s Roxanne. That scum has illegally locked her out of her own house, and she is going to evict him today. I want you to dispatch a unit to stand by and provide her with whatever help she might need."

He listened to a brief reply, gave a curt nod, and ended the call. He immediately held his hand out toward her. "Give me your phone."

Roxanne handed it over. Richard quickly tapped a number into her keypad and handed it back. "Call him when you’re heading to the building. He will have backup waiting for when you need it. I’m not compromising on this, Roxanne."

Roxanne looked at the screen, a wave of relief washing over her. "Thank you," she murmured. She glanced toward the door, realizing the clock was ticking. "I need to go."

Richard nodded, and they walked out of the villa together. When they reached her car in the parking garage, they stopped. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, a magnetic pull drawing them closer, but they both remained perfectly still, keeping a safe distance in case of another hidden camera.

Roxanne let out a quiet sigh and turned to open her car door, but Richard’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. The sudden, warm contact made her pulse spike.

"Richard, we can’t—"

"I need you to promise me one thing," Richard interrupted, his voice thick with a protective anxiety.

Roxanne looked up into his dark eyes, her breath catching in her throat.

"If Christian loses his mind. If he gets violent or loses control, you walk away immediately," Richard commanded softly, his grip tightening just enough to emphasize his words.

Roxanne looked at him, a tender smile playing on her lips. "No, Richard," she whispered. "I can’t promise you that. Because I have absolutely no intention of being locked away from my own home ever again."

With a gentle pull, she freed her wrist, unlocked her car, and slid into the driver’s seat. Through the tinted windshield, she looked back at him. Richard stood there, his tall frame rigid, his eyes dark with worry. He didn’t move until she started the ignition.

Roxanne shifted into drive and pulled out of the premises. Once she was a few blocks away, she pulled over to the curb and put the car in park. Her hands were trembling now.

She popped open the glove compartment and reached past the registration papers to retrieve a weathered envelope. Inhaling the faint, musty scent of aged paper, she carefully pulled out a thick card.

Tears instantly welled in her eyes as she looked at the faded words written on the back. It was her father’s handwriting.

If the day ever comes when you need someone you can trust completely, call this number. He will help you. ~ Dad

Her throat closed up, her father’s warm, reassuring voice echoing in her mind. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, flipped the card over, and quickly punched the ten-digit number into her phone. She pressed the dial and held the phone to her ear, her heart hammering against her ribs.

The line didn’t even complete a full ring before it was answered.

"Roxanne?" a deep, gravelly voice answered.

"Yes, Theodore," she breathed, her voice cracking slightly.

There was a sudden, heavy silence on the other end of the line. "You finally called."

"Yes. I need your help," Roxanne said, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "Christian changed the locks. He’s locked me out of the penthouse."

In the background of the call, Roxanne heard the sudden, sharp rustle of papers and the distinct sound of a heavy leather jacket being grabbed.

"I was afraid this day would come," Theodore said, his voice dropping.

Roxanne frowned. "You were?"

Theodore sighed. "Your father never trusted that man," he said. "He made me promise that if you ever called this number because of him, I would make him pay."

Roxanne frowned, sensing that her father must have told him about his disapproval of Christian. "He did?"

"I’m booking the first flight out," the older man said. "I’ll see you soon."

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