All Chapters of He Wants An Open Marriage, But Demands My Loyalty : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

​The freezing rain continued to lash against the concrete plaza, but inside the tight radius surrounding the jet-black Maybach, the air felt suffocatingly hot.​Ethan’s hand remained firmly anchored on Vivian’s jaw, his calloused thumb tracing the sharp contour of her bone with a dangerous, possessive rhythm. His eyes—dark, stormy, and heavy with five years of unexpressed fury—searched every inch of her face as if checking for physical evidence of her betrayal.​"Ethan... let me go," Vivian whispered, her voice trembling slightly under the weight of his stare.​"Let you go?" Ethan’s low laugh was devoid of humor, a rough sound that vibrated straight through his chest into her fingertips. "I let you go five years ago, Vivian. Look where it got you. Standing in the street, soaked to the bone, while a coward threatens your mother’s legacy."​Before she could form a reply, Lucian stepped closer, his heavy cedarwood-scented cashmere coat slipping off his shoulders. Without a word, he draped

​The click of the heavy brass lock echoing through the mahogany door felt like a physical weight settling over the room.​Vivian stood frozen in the center of the master suite, her heart hammering against her ribs. Outside the glass wall, the storm over the Hudson River had reached a fever pitch, lightning occasionally illuminating the sleek, masculine lines of Ethan’s bedroom. The air in the suite smelled faintly of his signature fragrance—rich amber, cedarwood, and a distinct hint of expensive leather.​She walked over to the adjoining marble bathroom, peeling off her rain-soaked clothes and washing away the grime of the night. Wrapped in a heavy silk robe provided in the dressing room, she stepped back out into the bedroom, her skin still warm from the hot shower.​The lock on the door turned with a soft, authoritative click.​Vivian spun around.​Ethan stepped into the room. He had discarded his suit jacket and tie. His crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealin

​The metallic click of the light switch resonated through the vault like a gunshot.​Florescent light flooded the room, illuminating the rows of sleek safety boxes and polished steel. Vivian’s heart slammed violently against her ribs. Lucian’s chest was frozen against her back, his arm coiled around her like an iron band, his palm warm and steady over her lips. He didn't even breathe.​Julien stood at the entrance, swaying slightly from the scotch, his phone still pressed to his ear.​"Yeah, I'm in the vault now," Julien grumbled into the receiver, stepping closer to the central glass display. "I'm double-checking the courier manifest for the ruby necklace. The offshore buyer wants confirmation before the 8:00 AM wired transfer."​He peered into the glass case.​Because of the angle of the pillar, Julien’s body blocked his own direct view of the opened lock. But as he reached into his jacket for his reading glasses, a sharp electronic beep chimed from the hallway.​"Mr. Thorne?" a secu

​The underground parking garage felt impossibly cold.​The low hum of the idling sedan echoed against concrete pillars, but inside the perimeter, nobody moved. The thick, yellowed envelope rested on the sleek black hood of the car, its wax seal cracked open, holding five years of buried agony.​Alexander stepped forward first. His movements were surgical, devoid of tremor. He reached out with gloved fingers, taking the envelope and pulling out the heavy, official documents inside.​Ethan didn't look at the paper. His dark, stormy eyes were locked entirely on Vivian. He reached out, grabbing her upper arm—not roughly, but with an unyielding, possessive grip that anchored her to his side. He could feel the fine, uncontrollable tremor running through her body.​"Who put this here?" Ethan rasped, his voice cutting through the silence like a jagged blade.​"It doesn't matter who dropped it," Alexander said, his voice unusually quiet as his eyes scanned the first page. His composed demeanor

​The private elevator opened back into the tri-level Blackwood Penthouse, but the atmosphere inside had fundamentally transformed.​The heavy rain outside had softened into a gentle, rhythmic drizzle against the glass wall. The high-adrenaline chaos of the press conference and the Upstate estate raid receded, leaving behind a thick, heavy quiet—one filled with unsaid words, five years of unspoken longing, and an undeniable shift in the room's dynamic.​Vivian stood in the center of the living area, finally slipping off her rain-dampened heels. Her feet sank into the plush cream rug. She felt exhausted down to her bones, yet for the first time in half a decade, her mind wasn't racing with panic over what Julien would demand next.​A warm pair of hands settled over her shoulders.​"You're freezing," Alexander murmured, his voice stripped of its usual razor-sharp professional distance. He reached down, unbuttoning his own suit jacket and draping it gently around her shoulders. The fabric