Owned by my husband’s boss

Anna froze, the single word slipping out before she even realized she’d spoken. “What?”

Jake stood in front of her, arms crossed, expression flat and emotionless—as if he hadn’t just shattered six years of marriage with one sentence. “You heard me well,” he repeated, voice cool and steady. “I want an open marriage.”

A shaky, unsure laugh escaped her lips. “You can’t be serious, Jake.” But he didn’t blink and he didn’t smile.

“I’m dead serious.”

The faint smile she forced earlier faded instantly, but her heartbeat thrashed in her chest, refusing to slow. “Why?” she whispered, confusion and fear mixing in her voice. “Why now?”

“Because I’m not happy, Anna.” His tone was cold, almost bored, like he was reviewing a contract rather than dismantling their life together. “And you’re not enough for me anymore.”

Her stomach twisted painfully. “We’ve been married for six years. If you want to sleep around, just ask me for a divorce.”

Jake laughed—not a strained laugh, or a nervous one, but a full, amused, almost mocking sound. “Divorce?” he repeated, as if the idea was a joke. “Don’t be ridiculous. You act like men are lining up to sleep with you. Be honest with yourself—when was the last time someone even looked at you twice?”

A sharp ache spread in her chest as he added a careless shrug. “You’re thirty already. And honestly? You’re aging badly. It’s like waking up next to a fifty-year-old.”

The cruelty didn’t end there—it sharpened with every word. “I mean, come on, Anna.” He gestured to himself with pride. “Look at me. I can get any woman I want. Why should I limit myself to just you for the rest of my life?”

Something inside her cracked, a small, fragile piece she didn’t know she’d been holding together. “What did I ever do to deserve this?” she whispered, voice breaking. “You’re supposed to love me.”

“I do,” he said casually, shrugging again, “just… not in that way anymore. And I’m a man with needs. You don’t turn me on. You don’t excite me. I need to get this tension out, and I won’t do it here.”

“Fine,” she said quietly, the fight finally draining out of her. “Go sleep with whoever you want. But this isn’t an open marriage. Call it what it is—the end.”

Jake didn’t look devastated; he smirked. It was a slow, satisfied expression that crinkled the corners of his eyes, the look of a man who had finally gotten exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not divorcing you, Anna. I just need to blow off some steam.” He leaned forward, attempting to press a kiss to her cheek, but she flinched away. A sharp twitch in his lip revealed his fleeting irritation before he smoothed his expression back into cool indifference. “I’m going out tonight.”

He grabbed his keys from the counter, jangling them casually as if he were heading to the gym instead of walking out on the woman who had spent six years building a life with him. He didn't look back as he opened the door.

“Don’t wait up.”

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the moment it did, Anna’s knees collapsed. She fell to the floor, one hand pressed against her chest as a sob ripped out of her—raw, painful, and uncontrollable. The sound cracked through the silence of the apartment, but then, just as quickly, the sob twisted into a laugh. It was a broken, wild, hysterical sound that only grew louder as her shoulders shook and her vision blurred. She sounded like a woman slipping into madness—and maybe she was.

She pushed herself to her feet, still laughing, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She shoved her hair back, her eyes widening with a strange, sharp clarity as something inside her finally snapped into place. If Jake wanted an open marriage, if he thought he could dismiss her like she was nothing, then he had no idea what he had just started.

Anna walked into the bedroom and stared at her reflection. He was right—not about her worth, but about the way she had let herself go. She hadn’t cared about her hair, her clothes, or her glow in a long time; she had been too busy caring for a man and a dying marriage. But Anna wasn’t always like this. Before Jake, she was the kind of woman men stopped speaking to stare at. Before Jake, she sparkled.

Now she would make him regret every word.

She grabbed her phone and messaged Naomi: I’ll be there in 30 minutes. After washing her face, she opened her dusty makeup drawer and pulled out the boldest, sluttiest outfit she owned—the one Jake had once dismissed as “too much.” She slipped into it, painted her lips a deep, sinful red, and tied her hair into a sleek ponytail. Her hands moved with muscle memory, applying smoky eyeshadow with the precision of a woman who knew she was about to own the room. By the time her driver arrived, she didn’t look like a broken wife; she looked like a woman reborn.

“Anna?” Naomi gasped the moment she saw her step into the party, her jaw dropping. “Is this really you?”

Anna smirked and did a slow twirl. “The Anna you know is back.”

“When? How? What happened?” Naomi asked, stunned.

Anna’s smile faltered, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “Why? Do I look stupid? Do I look ugly?”

“Obviously not!” Naomi said quickly. “You look incredible! I’m just shocked. Come on, let me introduce you.” She grabbed Anna’s hand and pulled her toward a group of friends. Compliments hit Anna from every direction—You look gorgeous; Oh my God, is that really you?; Damn. She soaked it in. She needed the attention, the energy, and the reminder of who she used to be. But it wasn’t enough. Not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to ruin someone’s sheets.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Naomi asked quietly as Anna lifted her third glass of whiskey.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Anna’s words were slightly slurred, but her smile remained sharp.

“I know you gave up drinking,” Naomi said softly. “So talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Anna scoffed. How was she supposed to explain that her husband of six years wanted an open marriage because she was “aging badly”? The words slipped out before she could stop them. “Jake is cheating on me. He said I’m not attractive anymore… and that he wants an open marriage.” She let out a soft, humorless laugh, the pain trembling through every word. “So I’m here for the same reason, Naomi. I want to get laid too.”

“I am going to kill him,” Naomi snapped, her eyes blazing with protective fury. “After everything you’ve done for him? If this is the game he wants to play, then fine. You’re not going to sit at home and cry while he ruins your self-esteem.” She leaned in closer. “You want revenge? Then we do it the right way. Tell me—out of every man in this room, who do you want? I’ll make it happen.”

Anna felt something loosen inside her: relief, danger, freedom. For years she had dimmed herself to keep her marriage peaceful. Before Jake, she and Naomi had lived like wildfire—untamable, choosing any man they wanted and leaving them destroyed. She missed the version of herself that Jake had buried.

Her eyes drifted across the club, over the sea of bodies and flashing lights, until she stopped breathing. There he was.

A man stood alone near the VIP lounge—broad-shouldered in an expensive suit, with silver at his temples and a commanding presence that soaked up the room. He looked to be in his late forties, wearing power like a second skin. He looked up and smiled—a captivating, dangerous smile that promised ruin.

“That one,” Anna whispered, the words slipping out like a confession. She lifted her finger and pointed directly at him. “I want him.”

Naomi followed her gaze, then choked. “Anna—wait. Are you serious?”

Anna kept staring, heat pooling low in her stomach. “Yes. I want him.”