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CHAPTER 082: A Small Victory
Last Updated:
2024-11-28 00:57:13
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My Husband Wants An Open Marriage CHAPTER 083: Defamation Clause
I sit frozen in my seat as the courtroom buzzes around me. Maya leans in close. “You okay?”I nod, though my throat feels tight. “I should be.”“It’s not over. Stay sharp.”I swallow hard. I’ve seen Ryan break down before—his temper, his desperation—but this was different. He didn’t just concede; he imploded. And that scares me more than any fight he could’ve put up.Some minutes later, the bailiff’s voice sounds. “All rise.”Judge Harper returns, her robe flowing like a storm cloud. She takes her seat.“Be seated,” she says.Everyone shuffles back into place.Judge Harper clears her throat. “Before we continue, I want to make one thing clear: this court will not tolerate any further emotional outbursts. Mr. O’Brien, you are expected to maintain your composure.” Her gaze pierces him. “Do I make myself clear?”Ryan nods. “Yes, Your Honor.”Maya adjusts her blazer and stands. “Your Honor, given Mr. O’Brien’s sudden decision to no longer contest the divorce, we believe it is in the best
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It’s Sara.Luke’s ex-wife.She’s standing right in front of me, dressed in a faded hoodie and jeans, her hair unwashed, sticking out from under the hood in unruly strands. There’s a gash on her forehead, faint but unmistakable. It looks a few days old, the bruising a dull yellow-brown.“What do you want, Sara?” I ask.Her lips curve into something that might’ve been a smile if it weren’t for the bitterness behind it. “Is that how you greet your friends? You once bought me a meal.”“Is that why you came? Because you’re hungry?”Her face hardens, as if I’ve physically slapped her. “I’m fine, thank you,” she says. “I came because you seem like a nice person. I mean, the few minutes I spent with you were pleasant.”I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. Pleasant. She must’ve forgotten the part where I chased her through the streets. But fine, let’s go with pleasant.“And?” I say, not bothering to hide my irritation.Sara takes a breath. “I heard somewhere that you were getting divorced today
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Everything about tonight has been wonderful. Luke's friends—Sebastian, Asher, and Kofi—have mostly been nice. Kofi’s the loudest and more free-spirited one. Sebastian’s the father of the group, while Asher's like the middle child. I can see why they're friends with Luke. Other than the fact that they went to the same college, they are mostly alike. Sharing inside jokes. Completing each other's sentences. And asking me the same questions a million times.“Are you sure you don't want alcohol, Julie?” Asher says. “Seems really weird that we're all taking shots and you're on your fourth glass of that thing.” He points at my glass.It's a virgin mojito.“No, thank you, Asher,” I say. “I still have a long night ahead. Need to stay sharp.”They all take my meaning and laugh, except Luke who's stealing suspicious glances at me. Oh, god. Don't let him figure it out before I tell him.By the time we're ready to leave, I’ve downed six glasses of the virgin mojito and have visited the restroom tw
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The words are barely out of my mouth when Luke slams on the brakes. The tires screech, and my body jerks forward, stopped only by the seatbelt. My heart is pounding, and I clutch the dashboard, gasping.“Jesus, Luke!” I say, turning to him. “What the hell—”He’s staring at me, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open. “Are you… pregnant?”The air between us feels electric, crackling with a million unspoken things. My heart thuds against my ribcage as I search his face, waiting for some kind of reaction.“Yes,” I whisper. “I am.”His hands drop from the steering wheel, falling into his lap. He looks stunned, like he’s just been hit with a brick. “You’re serious?”“Do I look like I’m joking?” “We’re… having a baby?”“How many times do I have to say yes before you—”Before I can finish, Luke flings open his door and bolts out of the car like it’s on fire.“What the hell?” I exclaim, twisting in my seat to watch him race around to my side.In seconds, he’s yanking my door open. His hands a
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It’s been a week since I told Luke the news, and true to his word, I’ve been imprisoned in his house—well, partial imprisonment. He drives me to work every morning and picks me up every evening. On the day of my dating scan, I’d had to steal his keys while he was in the shower. That was the closest I’ve gotten to freedom. I feel like my limbs are becoming useless outside of work, and it's making me crazy. It's Saturday, and I’m still lazing about in bed. “Julie,” Luke calls, “are you awake?” He knows I’m awake, but he also knows that he'd need a crowbar to separate me from this bed before 6 a.m. “Go away,” I say, covering my head with a pillow. The pillow over my head muffles Luke’s voice, but I still hear every smug syllable. “Come on, Kitten. We have a busy day today.” I freeze. The pillow slides off just enough to uncover one eye. “Did you just call me Kitten?” “Did I?” He’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. “I think you did.” “Great. It got you awake, didn't i
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My mouth is wide open as I stare at Luke. This isn’t happening. I blink, but the scene remains. Luke, calm, down on one knee, looking up at me with that maddeningly confident smile—except now there’s something else. Something raw. Emotion. I clutch my chest, feeling my heart slamming against my ribcage. My throat is dry, my knees trembling. I finally find my voice. “Luke…” “Julie,” he says. “There was a time I thought love wasn't meant for me. And then you came along and ruined everything. You weren’t part of my plan. You were this unpredictable hurricane of sarcasm, laughter, and stubbornness. Every time I thought I had you figured out, you flipped the script. And somehow, amidst all the chaos, I found someone I can’t live without.” I press my hand to my mouth, tears welling in my eyes. My knees feel weak, and I’m certain I’m going to collapse. “I love how you laugh too loud at jokes,” he continues. “I love how you argue with me even when you know I’m right—especially when y
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~~Ryan O’Brien~~ Ryan’s palms are sweaty, and his throat feels tight as he scans the room. The walls are a soft, muted green, the kind of calming color that’s supposed to make you feel relaxed, but all it does is make him itch. There’s a framed print of a serene forest landscape on the wall opposite him and a smaller, abstract painting that looks like a five-year-old’s tantrum on canvas. He tells himself he’s focusing on the art because he finds it adorable in a ridiculous way, but he knows the truth. He’s avoiding the therapist’s face. Because he shouldn’t be here. This is a waste of time, he thinks, shifting in his seat. His fingers tap an erratic rhythm on his knee, a habit he picked up since everything went to hell. Why does he need to talk to a shrink? His mother insisted, though. Said he was spiraling. Said he wasn’t himself anymore. So, here he is. “Ryan.” The voice is calm, measured. He finally glances at the man sitting across from him. Dr. Matthew Grant, mid-forties, cl
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Julie follows his gaze to her hand. “It’s a ring, Ryan.” “Don’t play dumb with me. You’re engaged?” “Yes.” “To him? Lucas?” His voice rises, disbelief and fury mixing in his chest. “Yes,” she repeats. Ryan stares at her, his mind reeling. He came here expecting to find her waiting, miserable without him. Instead, she’s wearing another man’s ring. Ryan’s eyes are glued to the ring, that massive, glittering diamond mocking him with every glint of light it catches. His throat tightens. His fingers curl into fists at his sides. He can feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. “How could you do this?” he says. “You let that man brainwash you. You think he’s any better than me? His first wife left him, Julie. That’s a pretty damn telling sign, don’t you think? What are you going to do when it gets rough? Run to another man?” Julie crosses her arms, leaning back against her desk. “Even when you’re dying, you’re still an arrogant piece of shit. Do you have any business with me today, M
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My Husband Wants An Open Marriage EPILOGUE
~~Julie~~ The pain started several hours ago. At first, it was manageable—a dull ache radiating through my lower abdomen. It felt like my body was whispering its warnings. But now, hours later, it’s no whisper. It’s a full-blown scream. Sharp, relentless waves of pain grip me, tightening like a vice around my insides. I’ve been timing the contractions, because the last time this happened, Dr. Casey Patel had sent me home with enough instructions on how to detect real labor. If this isn’t labor, then God help me, because it feels like this baby is about to crawl up my spine and burst out of my chest. I clutch the bannister with one hand and my lower abdomen with the other, pausing halfway down the stairs to catch my breath. Every step feels like a test of endurance, like I’m descending a mountain instead of my own staircase. “Paula!” I shout, hoping the cook will come running. But it isn’t Paula who appears. Instead, Javier rolls into view at the bottom of the stairs, his expressio
My Husband Wants An Open Marriage CHAPTER 103: La Hora Loca
~~Julie~~I have to say this: Luke’s family knows how to party. It’s like everyone’s high and energetic. Even the children aren’t left out. It’s one thing to practice a dance, and it’s another to actually use those moves. I’m stumbling, but I don’t care. Because I’m happy. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I can’t keep track of the number of people I’ve danced with. I’ve lost Luke for the hundredth time tonight. The last time I saw him, he was being dragged into a conga line by his mother, who seemed to have the stamina of a teenager. Somewhere between the flashing lights and the sea of bodies spinning and stomping, he’d disappeared again.I stumble slightly in my heels, though at this point they feel more like medieval torture devices. My silver dress—once sleek and elegant—is now sticking to me like a second skin, the fabric damp with sweat from almost an hour of dancing. I brush confetti out of my hair. It’s everywhere—on my shoulders, even stuck to the perspiration on my arms.A
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It’s our first dance as a couple, and Julie’s arms are draped around my neck, her warmth melting into mine as we sway to the soft rhythm of the music. Her dress catches the golden glow of the chandeliers, shimmering like something out of a dream. But it’s not the dress or the lights that have me mesmerized—it’s her.Her cheeks are flushed, a shade of pink that makes my heart stutter, and her eyes, those deep, captivating pools, glisten with unshed tears. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but all I can manage is, “You’re beautiful.”Julie’s blush deepens, and she looks away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “You’ve already said that. Twice.”“Because it’s true.”Around us, everyone is watching.Julie bites her lip, a nervous gesture that only makes her more endearing. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Feeling this… shy?”I chuckle. “Like teenagers on a first date.”“Exactly. The entire room is watching, and I don’t know where to look.”“You’re doing great so far,” I say. “Jus
My Husband Wants An Open Marriage CHAPTER 101: Bring It On
~~Luke~~I don’t know if it’s appropriate for the groom to cry on his wedding day, but right now, it’s taking my entire self-control not to sob. My throat feels tight, my chest is heavy, and every muscle in my face is fighting. Screw it—who made that rule anyway?Julie is walking toward me. Julie. My Julie. And it feels like the first time all over again—the day I saw her sitting on that barstool, drowning her sorrows in a glass of whiskey. I hadn’t planned to approach her. I was headed toward the fire exit, escaping someone whose face I can’t remember now. But then I saw her, and something in me shifted.Now, here she is, making her way down the aisle, radiant in a dress that looks like it was sewn from clouds and moonlight. My breath catches in my throat, and I wonder if it’s possible to actually combust from sheer awe.Her maid of honor walks beside her, clutching her arm with a steadying hand, but Julie doesn’t need it. She’s poised, her eyes locked on mine.“You’re far gone, man,
My Husband Wants An Open Marriage CHAPTER 100: You're Not Alone
~~Julie~~People say all brides are late to their weddings. It’s practically a tradition, isn’t it? But me? I was not going to be one of those brides. I had a plan. I gave myself a generous window—ten, maybe fifteen minutes tops—because, really, what could possibly make me late?The answer, apparently, is everything. Here I am, forty minutes behind schedule, crammed in the backseat of a car with Marissa, my maid of honor, wrestling with my veil like it’s some kind of unruly octopus.“Hold still,” Marissa says, her fingers tangled in the fabric. “You keep moving, and this thing’s going to look like a bird nested in your hair.”“I wouldn’t be moving if we weren’t speeding down the road like we’re in a car chase,” I shoot back, my head jerking as the driver swerves to avoid another car.The blame? It falls squarely on last night’s rehearsal dinner. It felt like the entire world showed up. Luke’s family alone must have taken up half the venue, and their energy? Boundless. How do they eve
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~~Ryan O’Brien~~ It’s fifteen minutes before the pre-trial, and Ryan’s car pulls into the courthouse. As Justin, his chauffeur and bodyguard, cuts the ignition, Ryan stares through the tinted window at the swarm of reporters and onlookers gathered outside like vultures, cameras poised for the kill. He can practically hear the click of shutters, the incessant questions ready to pounce, though he hasn’t even stepped out yet. Adeline is beside him, looking as bored as ever. Adeline taps her manicured nails against the leather armrest. She looks as though she’d rather be anywhere else, though Ryan knows better. His mother thrives on drama, especially when she’s not the one under fire. “How long is this circus going to take?” she says. “You didn’t have to come.” Ryan loosens his tie, the knot around his neck nothing compared to the one in his chest. Adeline shrugs. “I had nothing better to do. Besides, someone has to ensure you don’t embarrass the family name more than you already hav
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I and Marissa, the vice president of marketing, have formed a new habit of meeting for lunch. It started as casual, a convenience thing—we both needed a break from the relentless grind at Illusionaire. Now, it’s become a ritual. I’m still unsure if this qualifies as friendship, mainly because I don’t know what friendship actually looks like. But Marissa talks a lot, and I love to listen. Her stories have this wild, messy charm, like someone spilling glitter across a chaotic art project.We’re at a cozy little café a few blocks from work, the kind of place that tries too hard to be trendy with its mismatched furniture and aggressively minimalist menu. Marissa is mid-rant about her current boyfriend and her dog, gesturing with a fork that’s dangerously close to flinging her salad across the room.“I swear, Nathan only comes over to spend time with Chubbs.”I choke on my sip of iced tea. “Chubbs?”She nods. “My French bulldog. He’s—how do I put this—larger than life. And I mean larger. T
My Husband Wants An Open Marriage CHAPTER 097: A Thousand Deaths
~~Julie~~We’re at a bridal boutique, and Carolina’s excitement could power a small city. Baby Valeria is strapped to her chest, a tiny, sleeping bundle of calm amidst the chaos her mother is stirring up. Carolina jumps from one gown to the next. Her enthusiasm is contagious, even though I’m already sweating from the sheer force of it.“Isn’t Valeria heavy?” I ask, watching as the baby shifts against her chest. “Are you sure you don’t need a break?”She waves me off. “No. You get used to it. It’s like she isn’t there.”“Oh.”Before I can say anything else, Carolina turns to me. She places a hand on my stomach.“You’re already showing!” she exclaims. “Know the sex yet?”I smile. “No, I was thinking we could work a surprise reveal into the wedding.”“Ohhhh!” she squeals. Her face lights up. “That’s magnificent. The family’s going to go ballistic.”“Careful so you don’t wake her,” I say, nodding toward Valeria, who stirs at the sound of her mother’s excitement.“Don’t worry. When she’s
My Husband Wants An Open Marriage CHAPTER 096: Chrysanthemums
~~Ryan O’Brien~~The cold splash of water shocks Ryan awake. His head is throbbing, each pulse like a mallet pounding against his skull. He groans, squinting against the morning light. Everywhere is bright. Too bright. It’s like a thousand needles piercing his eyes. His mouth feels dry and cottony. He tries to swallow, but his throat is parched. As he tries to sit up, the room spins. You’d think after two months, he’d get used to this feeling. But it hurts every single time."Aww," he says, clutching his head. "What the hell—""Don’t get up too fast."The voice is sharp, familiar, and unapologetic. He blinks away the fog until his mother’s silhouette sharpens before him. She’s standing tall and imposing, dressed in a cream suit that somehow looks both effortless and intimidating. In one hand, she holds a half-emptied glass of water, the one she’d poured on his face. In the other, two white pills."Don’t tell me you’ve finally decided to kill me," Ryan says."What?”"Poison me."She sn
