Follow
Chapters
Share
His Open Marriage, My Forbidden Secret

His Open Marriage, My Forbidden Secret

He wanted freedom after breaking me. So I hired a stranger for one reckless night. But he's not a call boy. He's a mafia king who owns this city. Now he decided I'm his. No negotiations. No escape.
Chapters
Share

Chapter 2

Lia didn't go back to Isla's apartment that night. She drove around Silvercrest for hours, windows down, letting the cold air sting her face. Trying to feel something other than numb. Other than broken. By the time she pulled back into the driveway of Ravencourt Estate, it was past midnight. Julian's car was gone. Of course it was. Probably back at Vanessa's place, or whoever else he was fucking this week. She let herself into the dark, empty house and went straight to the guest bedroom. Couldn't sleep in that bed. Not after what she'd seen. The sheets were probably still warm from their bodies. Her stomach lurched and she barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up. When there was nothing left, she sat on the cold tile floor and cried until her eyes burned. Morning came too fast. Weak sunlight filtered through the curtains. Her phone showed seven missed calls from Margaret and three from Julian. She deleted them all without listening. She showered, dressed in jeans and a sweater. Real clothes. Not the designer prison uniform Margaret insisted she wear. If her marriage was over, she was done playing dress-up. By nine, she was in her car heading to The Daily Grind. The only place that felt safe anymore. Isla took one look at her face and immediately flipped the sign to "Closed for 15 minutes." She dragged Lia to the back corner table and shoved a latte into her hands. "Talk. Now. What the hell happened after you left here yesterday?" "I caught him." The words came out flat. Dead. "Julian. In our bed. With his secretary." "Oh my God." Isla's face went pale, then red with fury. "That motherfucker. Lia, I'm so sorry." "It gets better." Lia laughed, but it sounded hysterical even to her own ears. "He said it wasn't a big deal. That I was overreacting. That I drove him to cheat because I'm boring." "I'm going to kill him. I'm actually going to murder your husband." "Margaret knew. She called right after he left and told me successful men have needs. That I should have been more attentive." Lia's hands shook around the cup. "They all knew, Isla. His whole family. They knew and they didn't care." "Jesus Christ." Isla grabbed her hand across the table. "You're leaving him. Right now. Today. You're packing your shit and you're leaving." "I can't. The prenup. I'd have nothing. No money, no job, nowhere to go." "You have me. You can stay with me as long as you need." "And when the Whitmores come after you? When Margaret destroys your business because you helped me? I can't do that to you." Isla's jaw set. "Let her try. I'm not scared of that cold bitch." They sat in silence, the reality of Lia's situation settling over them like a weight. "There has to be another way," Isla said finally. "Some way to fight back. To make him pay for what he's done." Before Lia could answer, her phone buzzed. Julian. **Julian:** Where are you? We need to talk. Her stomach twisted. "He wants to talk." "About what? His amazing ability to be a piece of shit?" "I don't know. But I should probably go find out." "Lia, no. You don't owe him anything." "I know. But if I don't go back, it'll just be worse." She stood, legs shaky. "I'll text you later, okay?" "If he touches you, you call the cops. I mean it." Lia drove home with dread pooling in her gut. Whatever Julian wanted to say, it wasn't going to be good. She found him in the living room, showered and dressed in fresh clothes. Like last night never happened. Like he hadn't destroyed their marriage in their own bed. He was pouring whiskey. At ten in the morning. That was new. "You wanted to talk?" Lia stayed in the doorway, not willing to get closer. Julian turned, and his expression was cold. Businesslike. "Sit down." "I'll stand." "This is going to be a long conversation. Sit." She perched on the edge of the couch, every muscle tense. Ready to run if she needed to. Julian took a long drink before speaking. "I've been thinking about last night. About our situation." "Our situation." Her voice was flat. "You mean the fact that you're a cheating bastard?" "Don't be dramatic." He waved a hand dismissively. "We both know this marriage has been dead for years." The casual cruelty of it took her breath away. "So what?" she asked. "You want a divorce? Fine. Let's do it." "No. Divorce would be messy. Expensive. Our families would lose their minds and there'd be a scandal." He set down his glass. "I have a better solution." Dread crawled up her spine. "What solution?" "An open marriage." The words hung in the air between them. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Lia's voice rose. "Exactly what it sounds like. We stay married. Keep up appearances for society and our families. But we're both free to see other people. No lying, no sneaking around. Just freedom to do what we want." She stared at him, unable to process what she was hearing. "You're asking me to give you permission to keep cheating?" "I'm asking us both to be honest about what this marriage really is. A business arrangement. A social contract. Not a love story." "We took vows, Julian. In front of God and everyone we know." "And those vows were a mistake." His voice was harsh now. "We were too young. We didn't know what we wanted. But we're stuck with each other because of the prenup and our families and a million other reasons. So why keep pretending? Why not at least be honest?" Lia's mind raced. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. "You think I'm just going to say yes to this? After everything you've done?" "I think you're smart enough to see that it's the best option for both of us." He refilled his glass. "You get to stay in this house, keep your lifestyle, keep the Whitmore name. And if you want to see other people, you can. No judgment from me." "How generous." The sarcasm dripped from every word. "I'm trying to be fair here, Lia. More fair than I have to be. The prenup means I could divorce you tomorrow and you'd walk away with almost nothing. This way, you keep everything." "Except my dignity. Except my self-respect." Julian shrugged. "That's your choice. But let me be clear about something. This is happening whether you agree or not. I'm going to keep seeing other people. The only question is whether we do it honestly or if I keep lying to you." The ultimatum was delivered so casually. So cold. Like he was discussing a business deal instead of destroying what was left of their marriage. "And if I say no?" Lia asked quietly. "If I file for divorce anyway?" "Then you get nothing. No money, no house, no car. You'd be broke and unemployed with no work experience. Is that really what you want? To throw away your entire life out of pride?" He was right. God help her, he was right. The prenup was ironclad. Margaret had made sure of it. If she left Julian, she'd have nothing. "I need time to think," she managed. "Take all the time you need. But Lia?" His voice turned sharp. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you have any real power here. You don't. This marriage works on my terms or it doesn't work at all." She stood on shaking legs. "I'm going out." "Where?" "Does it matter? You don't actually care." She grabbed her purse and left before he could respond. Got in her car and drove with no destination in mind, tears streaming down her face. Her phone rang. Isla. "How bad was it?" her friend asked as soon as she answered. "Worse than I thought possible." Lia pulled over, unable to see through her tears. "He wants an open marriage. Said I can see other people too if I want. Like that makes it okay. Like that makes up for five years of lying and cheating." "That absolute fucking bastard." "He said it's happening whether I agree or not. That the prenup means I have no choice." A sob caught in her throat. "Isla, what do I do? I'm trapped. Completely trapped." "No, you're not. There's always a choice." "What choice? Stay and let him humiliate me? Or leave and lose everything?" Silence on the other end. Then Isla's voice, quiet but intense. "Or you call his bluff." "What?" "He wants an open marriage? Fine. Give him one. But on your terms. Not his." "I don't understand." "He thinks you'll just sit at home crying while he fucks whoever he wants. Prove him wrong. Go out. See someone. Show him you're not his doormat anymore." The idea was insane. Impossible. Lia had never cheated on anyone in her life. Had never even thought about it. But then again, she'd never thought Julian would do what he did either. "I wouldn't even know how," she said weakly. "That's what I'm here for." Isla's voice turned fierce. "If you're really doing this, if you're really going to fight back, then let's do it right. Let me help you." Lia sat in her parked car, watching people walk by living their normal lives, and felt something shift inside her. Julian wanted an open marriage? Wanted the freedom to do whatever he wanted? Fine. But two could play that game. And maybe, just maybe, she'd finally learn to play dirty. "Okay," she heard herself say. "What do I need to do?"

You may also like

Betrayed By Him: Marrying The Mafia Ghost
8.4
I had been locked in a freezing cellar for three days, starving and waiting for my husband, Marco, to save me. Instead, the iron door opened to reveal his mistress holding a toddler with Marco's exact face. Marco wasn't sterile like he had claimed for years. He just wanted my De Luca family trust funds. With my husband watching coldly, his mistress and a corrupt doctor pinned me to the concrete floor. "We're going to carve you up until you're unrecognizable, then throw you in the lake," she laughed. The most chilling part wasn't the affair. It was the realization that my mother-in-law, the mafia matriarch I had served faithfully for three years, had personally signed my death warrant to save their crumbling empire. The scalpel sliced deep into my cheek, permanently destroying my face as warm blood poured down my neck. I had given them everything. I used my family's money to pay off his secret gambling debts and endured endless insults about being a barren wife, only to realize the entire family viewed me as nothing but a pig to be slaughtered for cash. In the suffocating darkness, I didn't pray for mercy. I swore a blood oath. I didn't die in that cellar. Saved by a legendary rival boss, I stood outside the Falcone estate three weeks later. I pushed open the heavy oak doors to my own memorial service, the jagged red scar on my face silencing the hall. "I'm afraid your plans to inherit my estate will have to be postponed," I smiled at my terrified husband.
Conquering The Cold Zillionaire Surgeon Heiress
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle. "Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered. Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week. They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust. They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire. Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog. Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony. They actually believed they had raised her. She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face. "I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation. Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order. "Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group." It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
Fated to the don
7.9
Alicia needed money. Three days before eviction, she walked into an underground auction believing she would walk out free. Instead, she was sold to the most powerful man in the city. Dmitri Hunt is a mafia don feared by humans and an Alpha feared by wolves. He claims her, controls her, and hides secrets that could destroy her life. Alicia must choose between running from her fate or standing beside the man who may have planned everything from the start...
My Brother's Rich Best Friends
7.4
What's worse than being trapped in an elevator with your gorgeous, Rich boss? Being trapped with all three of them. Jack, Gavin, and Harrison aren't just my bosses; they're my brother's filthy rich best friends. After a steamy, unplanned hookup when the lights went out, I'm about to become much more than just the girl next door. There's Jack, whose touch drives me wild. Gavin, the cocky CEO whose dirty orders I can't wait to obey. And Harrison, the sweet, passionate one who pours his heart into everything... including me. I've waited years for these men to finally see me. Now, I belong to them. My body is theirs to devour, my bed is theirs to break. But giving them my heart is a terrifying risk, and I just pray they don't shatter it.
My Husband Killed Our Unborn Baby to Save his Beloved Woman
8.4
Three years after Theo Hayes and I got married, I finally conceived his baby. Yet, around Valentine's Day, he personally performed an abortion on me. With reddened eyes, he told me that my heart couldn't withstand the burden of pregnancy. I was consumed with guilt and felt my body was not good enough and disappointed in Theo's deep love for me. Behind a curtain, Theo was washing the blood from his hands. "Theo, actually, if Dolores's current health is meticulously nurtured, there's a chance she could give birth to the baby. Why did you insist on..." "I need the umbilical cord blood," Theo said coldly. "Teresa's condition requires a stem cell transplant from newborn umbilical cord blood. Dolores's child is the best source, but a full-term delivery is too slow. Teresa can't wait so long. So... I expedited the fetus's growth and induced labor at five months. Although the baby won't survive, the cord blood can be used. Dolores wasn't going to live long anyway. It will be her final contribution to the Powell family that we used her baby to save Teresa. Don't let Dolores know I expedited the fetus and induced it. Just tell her it was a stillbirth." Dolores closed her eyes in despair, and tears streamed uncontrollably. Her husband, Theo, killed their baby and even drained the last value from it. He just used the baby's umbilical cord blood to save Soren Powell, my half-sister.
Rising From Ashes: The Mafia King's Bride
9.2
I discovered the dark secret my stepmother Beatrice had been hiding for years. When I threatened to expose the truth to the mafia, my half-brother Angelo and step-sister Carmella locked me in an abandoned Brooklyn warehouse. Carmella stood there in my mother's expensive silk dress, her voice sweet and venomous as she confessed how she had meticulously stolen my life and my father's love. Angelo looked at me with cold indifference, pouring gasoline over my feet before striking a match. "You're insane for threatening to break the code of silence," they laughed, leaving me to burn alive to protect their stolen thrones. My own father turned a blind eye, letting his trueborn daughter turn to ash just to maintain the illusion of his perfect family. The smell of charred flesh filled my throat. Until I died, I didn't understand. I had bled for our survival, even taking a bullet for the terrifying Moretti Matriarch. Why did my father let the bastard children of a Chicago bootlegger steal my inheritance and murder me? Opening my eyes again, the phantom heat of the inferno faded into a cool New York afternoon. I was seventeen again, sitting in the backseat of a Cadillac, just returning from my three-year exile in Switzerland. This time, I wouldn't just scream. I would marry the terrifying Prince of New York and watch my stepmother's entire bloodline burn.