My Ruthless Billionaire Husband Wants An Open Marriage

The first sign that something was wrong wasn’t the red lipstick on his collar. It was the silence.

I stepped out of my sports car and paused on the wide stone driveway. Usually, the three-story marble mansion was humming with life. I should have heard the staff polishing the grand foyer, low classical music filtering from the garden speakers, or Nathan’s deep voice echoing down the hall as he closed another million-dollar deal.

Tonight, there was nothing.

I checked the glowing screen of my phone. Exactly 8:00 p.m.

My eyebrows pulled together. I looked toward the private garage and spotted Nathan’s custom sleek black Ferrari. Why was he home? He had told me his board meeting would run until ten.

I had spent the afternoon planning a quiet, high-end catered dinner, hoping to fix the cold distance that had grown between us over the last year. I had trusted his word.

I pushed open the heavy mahogany front door. It swung back with a quiet click. Sighing, I tossed my designer shopping bags onto the silk armchair in the foyer. The chill of the air conditioning at my skin.

I leaned down to slip off my heels when a noise echoed from the upper floor. At first, I thought Nathan was talking on speakerphone. Then the sound came again, a low, breathless moan from a woman.

My breath caught in my throat. I kicked off my shoes, left them by the entrance, and moved toward the sweeping marble staircase.

Every step up the stairs made the sounds clearer. It was coming from our master suite.

"Fucking hell… you’re incredible," a woman gasped, her voice thick with pleasure.

My stomach twisted into a hard knot. My hand trembled as I pushed the bedroom door wide open.

The blood drained from my face. Nathan was lying back on our velvet headboard while a young blonde woman straddled his lap.

"Nathan!" The name ripped from my throat.

The woman shrieked, clutching the Egyptian cotton sheet to her chest as she tried to scramble off the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" I snapped. Anger surged through my veins, hot and sharp. I grabbed her bare arm, pinning her in place.

She kept her chin glued to her chest, her shoulders shaking as she refused to look at me.

"Let her go, Audrey," Nathan muttered. He didn't even blink. He just leaned back against the pillows, looking bored. "You already ruined the mood."

My fingers went numb, and my grip on the girl slipped away. "What?"

"You heard me." Nathan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. He grabbed a silk shirt from the chair and pulled on his trousers with steady, practiced hands. "Stop acting shocked. I've been seeing other women for months."

The girl darted past me and fled down the hallway, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. I barely noticed her go. I took a sharp step toward my husband, my chest heaving as I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

"I asked you to keep your affairs out of our life," I whispered, my voice shaking with rage. "You brought a paid escort into our home. Into our bed, Nathan. Do you have any dignity left?"

"Don't talk to me about dignity," Nathan scoffed, buttoning his cuffs without looking up. "Look at yourself. You come to bed every night like a cold statue. I’ve told you a hundred times to live a little, but you never listen. You forced my hand."

His words hit me like a physical blow. My eyes burned with hot tears, but I forced myself not to blink.

"Are you really blaming me for your cheating?"

He shrugged, stepping over to the mirror to adjust his hair. "Think whatever helps you sleep at night, Audrey. I really don't care." He turned and started walking toward the door, brushing past my shoulder as if I were a shadow.

"Fine," I said. My voice suddenly went cold and flat. "I want a divorce."

Nathan stopped. He turned around slowly, looked at me for two seconds, and then let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"A divorce?" He crossed his arms over his chest, a dark smirk playing on his lips. "Did you forget about the prenuptial agreement?"

The air left my lungs.

When we got engaged, his mother had brought in a team of high-powered lawyers to protect the family empire. I was young, broke, and desperately in love. I had signed every page without reading a single word.

Nathan saw the look on my face and his smirk widened. "You remember now, don't you?"

I lowered my eyes, staring at the polished floor for a second to collect myself. When I looked back up, I forced my spine straight. "Signing that paper was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Maybe," Nathan said, taking a slow step toward me. "But it keeps us tied together. Neither of us can walk away without losing half our fortune. So, since you want your freedom and I want mine, I have a simple deal for you."

I stayed completely still, my hands clenched into tight fists at my sides.

"An open marriage," Nathan said smoothly.

The words hung in the quiet room."What?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"It's simple." He slid his hands into his pant pockets, entirely in control. "We stay married. To the press, the board, and our families, we remain the powerful, perfect couple. But behind these doors, we do whatever we want."

He stepped closer, his posture relaxed. "You can date whoever you want. Sleep with whoever you like. I won't ask questions, and you won't ask me."

A dry, hollow laugh escaped my mouth. "That's your grand plan? I pretend to be your loving wife at charity galas while you bring women into our home?"

"It works for both of us," he said with another careless shrug.

I stared at him, looking disgusted. The kind, attentive man I had married years ago was completely gone. In his place stood a stranger wrapped in tailored clothes and cold arrogance.

Nathan tilted his head, watching me closely. "So," he murmured, "do we have a deal?"