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Home / Romance / I AGREED TO MY HUSBAND'S OPEN MARRIAGE RULES / Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

All Chapters of I AGREED TO MY HUSBAND'S OPEN MARRIAGE RULES: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

189 Chapters

Chapter 70

Michael's POVThe sting on my cheek was sharp and sudden. She slapped me. For a second, I just stared at her, the taste of her still on my lips, the warmth of her skin still burning into mine. Then the shock melted away, replaced by cold amusement. She was putting on a show. A good one.I touched my fingers to the burning skin. "My apologies," I said, my voice smooth, hiding the anger tightening in my chest. I took a step back, giving her space she didn't deserve. "That was... out of line. You just... you look so much like someone I used to know."Her chest heaved, those soft curves straining against the tight fabric of her suit. Her eyes were wide, but not with fear. With practiced, icy disdain. "I have no idea who you think I am, Mr. Sotheby, but I am not her. You can't just... assault potential business partners."I let a slow smile spread across my face. Oh, so we're playing this game. "Assault is a strong word for a mistaken kiss. A... passionate error." I gestured to the expensiv

Chapter 71

Stacy's POVThe silence in his office was thick and heavy, pressing down on me. My cheek still burned where he'd touched it. My lips still tingled from his kiss. A horrible, necessary lie sat between us now—the lie about a lost child. I watched his face, saw the storm of confusion and anger in his eyes, and held my breath.He stepped back, releasing me from where he'd trapped me against the desk. The space felt cold without his heat. He turned away, running a hand through his silver hair, his back to me. I could see the tension in his shoulders."Are you sure the baby died?" he asked again, raising his eyebrow. He didn't look at me."Yes." My voice came out as a whisper. I wrapped my arms around myself, the suit jacket feeling like a pathetic costume. "That's why I left. I couldn't... be there anymore. I became someone else."He turned slowly. The raw fury was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating stare that was somehow worse. "So you took everything and ran. You built this... Eleanor.

Chapter 72

Stacy's POVThe panic lived under my skin all day, buzzing and sharp. After picking Millie up from school, I couldn't stop seeing it—Michael's face outside the fence, his wave, his predatory smile aimed at my child. My sweet, trusting girl.As soon as we got home, I knelt in front of her, my hands gripping her small shoulders a little too tight. "Millie, baby, look at me."She blinked up at me, her blue eyes—so like his—wide and innocent."The man from today. The one who gave you the flower. You are never to talk to him again. Do you understand me? Never."Her lower lip wobbled. "But Mommy, he was nice. He said my cookies were good.""He is not nice," I said, my voice cracking. I pulled her close, my heart beating frantically. "He is a very bad man. If you see him, you run. You find a teacher, or Aunt Mira, or me. You scream. He wants to take you away from me. Forever."The tears came then, hot and fast. She buried her face in my neck. "I don't wanna go away! I promise, Mommy. I won't

Chapter 73

Stacy's POVThe lie felt like ashes in my mouth, dry and crumbling. I forced the words out, keeping my voice flat. "I don't understand. The child died. I told you. There's nothing more to say."Michael didn't move from where he leaned against the grand staircase railing. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a few taps, he turned the screen toward me."Take a look, Stacy. Or Eleanor. Whatever you're calling yourself these days."I took a shaky step forward. On the screen was an official-looking document. A paternity test. My eyes scanned over the medical terms, landing on the conclusion at the bottom. Probability of paternity: 99.98%. My stomach dropped."I... I don't understand," I whispered, the words automatic. My mind was racing, spinning with panic. He tested Millie. He got a sample from her. When? At the school? The hair... The memory of him kneeling beside her in the pastry shop, his hand near her curls, slamm

Chapter 74

Michael's POVI walked out of the villa and climbed into the car waiting in the driveway. As the engine started, I looked back at the grand entrance. I could picture Stacy inside, probably collapsed on the floor, crying. Probably screaming my name.Guilt twisted in my chest, sharp and unwelcome.She's desperate. She's terrified. You took her child.But the anger was stronger than the guilt. She lied to me. After everything—after running away, after hiding for three years, after building a whole new life under a fake name—she lied to my face about our daughter.Our daughter.The paternity test proved it. 99.98%. Millie was mine. That little girl with the storm-blue eyes and jet-black hair. That serious, sweet child who had looked at me with such innocent trust in the pastry shop.Mine.Stacy had kept her from me. For three years, she'd raised my daughter alone, poisoning her mind against me, telling her I was a "bad man."The fury burned hot and cold at the same time. But underneath it

Chapter 75

Stacy's POVThe night dragged on, endless and suffocating. I couldn't sit still. I paced the floor, sat down, then got up again. My phone burned in my hand, completely useless. I kept calling Michael's number until my thumb hurt. Straight to voicemail. Every single time. Then it hit me—he'd blocked me. The thought made me feel sick and cold inside.I tried David's office line at Sotheby Holdings. A recorded voice recited their business hours in a flat, mechanical tone. I screamed at it, my voice breaking in the empty house.He has my daughter.Morning came eventually, but it felt wrong. I hadn't slept at all. My whole body buzzed with nervous energy that had nowhere to go. The second the police station opened, I was in my car.The officer at the front desk looked young and tired. I barely made sense as the words tumbled out—kidnapping, my daughter stolen, a powerful man, a villa somewhere outside the city.He listened without changing his expression. He wrote things down. So slowly.

Chapter 76

Stacy's POVI knew saying I hated him wouldn't stop him. I knew it would probably make things worse. But I was too angry to care. Too furious to think straight."I hate you," I repeated, my voice shaking. "I hate what you've done. I hate—"He didn't let me finish. His hand shot up to the back of my neck, pulling me toward him. His mouth crashed down on mine so hard I couldn't breathe. It wasn't a kiss—it was a claiming. A punishment. His lips crushed mine with bruising force, his tongue invading my mouth before I could even think to resist.I made a muffled sound of protest, my hands pushing against his chest. But he was solid as stone, unmovable. His other arm wrapped around my waist, pressing me against him so tightly I could feel every hard plane of his body.Can't breathe. Can't think.His kiss was stealing everything—my air, my thoughts, my ability to fight. My head spun. My knees went weak. I was drowning in him, in the taste of coffee and mint, in the overwhelming sensation of

CHAPTER 77

Michael's POVThe silence in her hallway feels heavy, almost solid. My cologne mixes with her perfume in the air—something with flowers in it, expensive. My suits hang in her closet. My glass sits on her table. I shouldn't be here, and knowing that sends a dark thrill through me.She's standing at the top of the stairs, completely still. Her eyes are wide, that stormy blue turned almost black with shock. God, she's beautiful. Even now, even when she hates me. She's changed since she left. The soft curves I remember are fuller now, more womanly. The thought of holding her again, of making her give in to me... it aches deep in my chest."What is going on?" Her voice comes out as a strained whisper, meant for the little girl holding onto her leg, but I hear how it shakes.I hang my jacket on the stair post. A normal, everyday movement. "I live here now," I say, keeping my voice casual. Like it's the most natural thing in the world."You don't. You can't." She starts down the stairs, movi

CHAPTER 78

Michael's POVI stood in the shadows of the hallway, watching.The door to the little girl's room was open just a crack. Soft yellow light spilled out. I could hear Stacy's voice, low and soothing, telling a bedtime story. Millie's soft questions. The rustle of covers. A mother's nighttime ritual.My chest felt tight.I hadn't gone in. It didn't feel right. Not yet. But watching her... watching them... it did something to me. A strange, painful warmth spread through my chest. She was so gentle with our child. The same hands that had slapped me twice today were now smoothing back curly hair, tucking in a stuffed rabbit.She's a good mother.The thought cut deep. Because it meant all of this—the lies, the running—came from a place of protection. Not cruelty. She was trying to protect our daughter. From me? From the world? From her own past?I leaned against the wall, the cool surface pressing through my shirt. The scent of her floral perfume still hung in the air from our fight earlier.

CHAPTER 79

Stacy's POVI stood at the bottom of the stairs long after he left, my knees aching from kneeling on the carpet. The cool air from the open door washed over me before I finally pushed myself up and closed it.What the hell was I doing?My hands were shaking as I locked the deadbolt. I pressed my forehead against the wood, trying to steady my breathing. I was the one who wronged him. I was the one who lied, who took Millie and disappeared. I was the one who let him believe our baby died. Yet here I was, acting like he was the monster, like I was the victim in all this.But God, seeing him in my house, around my daughter... it terrified me.I pushed away from the door and walked back to the living room. My reflection caught in the window—silk pajamas rumpled, hair messy, eyes red from crying. I looked as wrecked as I felt."You owe me," his voice echoed in my head. "You owe me years."He was right. He was absolutely right. And that made everything so much worse.I sank onto the couch,

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