Ch. 96..100: My Husband Wants An Open Marriage Chapter 96-100
CHAPTER 996. Chybarske trad CHAPTER 096: Chrysanthemums -Ryan O'Brien-
The cold splash of water shocks Ryan awake. His head is throbbing, each pulse like a mallet pounding against his skull. He groans, squinting against the morning light. Everywhere is bright. Too bright. It's like a thousand needles piercing his eyes. His mouth feels dry and cottony. He tries to swallow, but his throat is parched. As he tries to sit up, the room spins. You'd think after two months, he'd get used to this feeling, But it hurts every single time.
"Aww," he says, clutching his head. "What the hell-"
"Don't get up too fast."
The voice is sharp, familiar, and unapologetic. He blinks away the fog until his mother's silhouette sharpens before him. She's standing tall and imposing, dressed in a cream suit that somehow looks both effortless and intimidating, In one hand, she holds a half-emptied glass of water, the one she'd poured on his face. In the other, two white pills.
"Don't tell me you've finally decided to kill me," Ryan says.
"What?"
""Poison me."
She snorts. "Why would I poison you in my house?"
"So if we weren't in your house?"
"Get
up and take your Advil, Ryan," she snaps. "You keep fighting me when your know I'm the only one who gives a shit about you."
Reluctantly, he drags himself upright, the world tilting as he does. He takes the water and pills, popping them into his mouth without argument. The bitterness of the Advil hits his tongue before he chases it with water.
2
"Two months," Adeline says, pacing now, her stilettos clicking against the polished floor." Two months since your life went to hell, and this is where we are. You, nursing a hangover. Me, cleaning up your mess. Again." He leans back against the headboard, his eyes half-closed. "You're the one who fired me, remember?
"For the good of the company. Do you think Emily would've stopped at just bleeding you dry? She would've bled us all dry. Disassociating the company from you was the only way to protect what's left." "And hiding me in your house? What's that? Charity work?"
Her lips thin into a straight line. For the first time, something softer-weariness, perhaps
CHAPTER 096 Chrysanthemums
-crosses her face. "I may have fired you, but you're still my son.'
Ryan scoffs, shaking his head. "Yeah, the son you tossed aside like a bad investment."
"Your pre-trial is tomorrow, Ryan. What have you done to prepare? Nothing. All you've done is drink yourself into oblivion every single day."
"What am I supposed to do? The whole world's against me. They're ready to crucify me. Emily's suing me for ten million dollars. What the hell am I supposed to do, Mom?"
Adeline stops pacing, her gaze narrowing on him like a hawk about to swoop in for the kill. "Think. Are you going to let that girl take ten million from you? The same way you let your ex-wife rob you of fifty?" "Don't bring Julie into this."
"Oh, here we go again," she says, throwing up her hands. "Julie broke your heart, and you're still defending her. It's pathetic."
"Julie deserved every penny," Ryan says. "Emily's a leech. There's a difference."
"Is that what your new therapist has been feeding you?"
"The therapist is doing great. He's been making me see things from different perspectives.
11
She lets out a humorless laugh, crossing her arms. "If he's so great, why are you still a drunk?"
"I didn't go to therapy to cure my drinking," he shoots back. "I went to heal my soul."
"What the hell does that even mean?"
He rubs his temples, his frustration bubbling over. "It means I'm trying, okay? I'm trying to deal with everything. With Julie, with Emily, with-" He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening.
"With what, Ryan?" Adeline presses. "With the fact that you've screwed up almost everything? That you're a grown man hiding from your problems like a child?"
His head snaps up. "You don't think I know that? You don't think I live with that every goddamn day?"
For a moment, they're both silent. Then, Adeline sighs, sinking into the chair across from him. She looks older now, the lines on her face more pronounced.
"Ryan," she says. "You have to fight. You can't let them destroy you. Especially not Emily. If you go down, you take this family with you.
He looks at her, really looks at her, and for the first time in months, he sees the woman who raised him. The woman who fought tooth and nail to build their empire. The woman
who, for all her flaws, has never truly abandoned him.
"I don't know if I have it in me," he admits.
She leans forward. "You do. You're my son, Ryan O'Brien. And O'Briens don't quit om ger off your ass, sober up, and find something against that bitch. You can't tell me you were sleeping with her for months and don't have one thing against her **
"I don't," he says. "Not one thing"
Adeline's lips curl in distaste. "What about sex tapes or something?"
"She doesn't deny that we had sex, Mom. She told the public 1 threatened to fire her if she doesn't become my mistress. She said I moved her into my house, which eventually led to my wife divorcing me. And she said that the day I attacked her, I was fed up with her still not being pregnant, as this was the agreement.
Adeline looks shocked. "How do you know all these and I don't?"
"I use the internet, Mom."
Adeline stands up and begins to pace. "So she lied about the pregnancy?"
"I don't know. She went for cheekups. Had vitamins and everything. Even showed me the result. Positive."
""Where's the result?"
"I don't know."
Ryan's head pounds with the weight of the conversation. His mother's pacing grates on his nerves. He rubs his temples, half-wishing she'd storm out and half-dreading the moment she'll leave him alone with the suffocating mess he's made of his life. "Emily still has things here," Adeline says. "Maybe she left something behind. I'll check.
"Yeah, sure," Ryan mutters, feeling drained.
Without waiting for a reply, she walks out of the room. Ryan sighs and pushes himself to his feet. He needs to do something-anything-to shake off the oppressive fog of failure hanging over him.
He heads to the bathroom, turning on the light. The harsh glare illuminates the tired man staring back at him in the mirror. His reflection looks like a stranger's: bloodshot eyes, an unshaven jaw, and a gauntness that wasn't there before. "You look like shit," he says to himself, grabbing his toothbrush.
The minty burn of toothpaste jolts him awake just a little. He rinses his mouth, splashes cold water on his face, and stares at his reflection again. No better. The same wreck.
CHAPTER 096: Chrysanthemund
With a deep breath, he turns off the light and leaves the bathroom. He doesn't want to sit idly waiting for his mother to return. Maybe together they'll find something that could give him a lead.
He makes his way to her room. The door is ajar
The room smells faintly of lavender. It's neat, pristine even. His eyes dart around, scanning for her.
"Mom?"
But what catches his attention is something else. A file sitting on the dresser.
Curious, he approaches the dresser and picks up the file. He flips it open, scanning the contents.
It's a salés contract. His mother has sold Paragon Jewels to Illusionaire.
His fingers tighten around the papers, the edges cutting into his skin. What the actual fuck?
The door creaks, and he turns to see his mother standing in the doorway, her face unreadable.
"What are you doing in my room, Ryan?"
"You sold the company?"
She closes the door behind her, walking in with the same regal composure she always carries, like nothing can rattle her.
"You've been living in a bubble," she says, crossing her arms. "Your public disgrace didn't just pull you down; it dragged the company with it. Firing you wasn't enough to save it.
Ryan laughs bitterly, the sound harsh and hollow. "Wow. You just told me O'Briens don't quit. This looks an awful lot like giving up."
"Look, Ryan, your father and I own a home in Belize. That's where we've been spending most of our retirement. Once this trial is over, I'll get us both one-way tickets. We'll work out the residency logistics later. A fresh start." "A fresh start?"
"Yes, a fresh start," she says firmly. "All you have to do is make this go away. There must be something you know, something you've forgotten. Think, Ryan."
He shakes his head, the anger bubbling under his skin. "A fresh start," he says again, letting the sarcasm drip from his words. "You're unbelievable."
"Think, Ryan. And leave my room while you're at it."
He tosses the file back onto the dresser. "You're something else, Mom."
CHAPTER 096: Chrysanthemums
Without waiting for her response, he stalks out slamming the door behind him.
Back in his room, the tension in his chest only grows. He paces until his eyes land on the bouquet of chrysanthemums sitting on the table, their petals vibrant and mocking.
And then it hits him.
The red light. The camera.
"Oh, God," he whispers.
How could he have forgotten? How could he have been so blind? The memory of Emily's camera, that blinking red light, sears into his brain.
Julie.
He grabs his phone, dialing with shaking hands
HAPTER 996. Chybarske trad
CHAPTER 096: Chrysanthemums
-Ryan O'Brien-
The cold splash of water shocks Ryan awake. His head is throbbing, each pulse like a mallet pounding against his skull. He groans, squinting against the morning light. Everywhere is bright. Too bright. It's like a thousand needles piercing his eyes. His mouth feels dry and cottony. He tries to swallow, but his throat is parched. As he tries to sit up, the room spins. You'd think after two months, he'd get used to this feeling, But it hurts every single time.
"Aww," he says, clutching his head. "What the hell-"
"Don't get up too fast."
The voice is sharp, familiar, and unapologetic. He blinks away the fog until his mother's silhouette sharpens before him. She's standing tall and imposing, dressed in a cream suit that somehow looks both effortless and intimidating, In one hand, she holds a half-emptied glass of water, the one she'd poured on his face. In the other, two white pills.
"Don't tell me you've finally decided to kill me," Ryan says.
"What?"
"Poison me."
She snorts. "Why would I poison you in my house?"
"So if we weren't in your house?"
"Get
up and take your Advil, Ryan," she snaps. "You keep fighting me when your know I'm the only one who gives a shit about you."
Reluctantly, he drags himself upright, the world tilting as he does. He takes the water and pills, popping them into his mouth without argument. The bitterness of the Advil hits his tongue before he chases it with water.
2
"Two months," Adeline says, pacing now, her stilettos clicking against the polished floor." Two months since your life went to hell, and this is where we are. You, nursing a hangover. Me, cleaning up your mess. Again." He leans back against the headboard, his eyes half-closed. "You're the one who fired me, remember?
"For the good of the company. Do you think Emily would've stopped at just bleeding you dry? She would've bled us all dry. Disassociating the company from you was the only way to protect what's left."
"And hiding me in your house? What's that? Charity work?"
Her lips thin into a straight line. For the first time, something softer-weariness, perhaps
CHAPTER 096 Chrysanthemums
-crosses her face. "I may have fired you, but you're still my son.
Ryan scoffs, shaking his head. "Yeah, the son you tossed aside like a bad investment."
"Your pre-trial is tomorrow, Ryan. What have you done to prepare? Nothing. All you've done is drink yourself into oblivion every single day."
"What am I supposed to do? The whole world's against me. They're ready to crucify me. Emily's suing me for ten million dollars. What the hell am I supposed to do, Mom?"
Adeline stops pacing, her gaze narrowing on him like a hawk about to swoop in for the kill. "Think. Are you going to let that girl take ten million from you? The same way you let your ex-wife rob you of fifty?" "Don't bring Julie into this."
"Oh, here we go again," she says, throwing up her hands. "Julie broke your heart, and you're still defending her. It's pathetic."
"Julie deserved every penny," Ryan says. "Emily's a leech. There's a difference."
"Is that what your new therapist has been feeding you?"
"The therapist is doing great. He's been making me see things from different perspectives.
11
She lets out a humorless laugh, crossing her arms. "If he's so great, why are you still a drunk?"
"I didn't go to therapy to cure my drinking," he shoots back. "I went to heal my soul."
"What the hell does that even mean?"
He rubs his temples, his frustration bubbling over. "It means I'm trying, okay? I'm trying to deal with everything. With Julie, with Emily, with-" He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening.
"With what, Ryan?" Adeline presses. "With the fact that you've screwed up almost everything? That you're a grown man hiding from your problems like a child?"
His head snaps up. "You don't think I know that? You don't think I live with that every goddamn day?"
For a moment, they're both silent. Then, Adeline sighs, sinking into the chair across from him. She looks older now, the lines on her face more pronounced.
"Ryan," she says. "You have to fight. You can't let them destroy you. Especially not Emily. If you go down, you take this family with you.
He looks at her, really looks at her, and for the first time in months, he sees the woman who raised him. The woman who fought tooth and nail to build their empire. The woman
who, for all her flaws, has never truly abandoned him.
"I don't know if I have it in me," he admits.
She leans forward. "You do. You're my son, Ryan O'Brien. And O'Briens don't quit om ger off your ass, sober up, and find something against that bitch. You can't tell me you were sleeping with her for months and don't have one thing against her **
"I don't," he says. "Not one thing"
Adeline's lips curl in distaste. "What about sex tapes or something?"
"She doesn't deny that we had sex, Mom. She told the public 1 threatened to fire her if she doesn't become my mistress. She said I moved her into my house, which eventually led to my wife divorcing me. And she said that the day I attacked her, I was fed up with her still not being pregnant, as this was the agreement.
Adeline looks shocked. "How do you know all these and I don't?"
"I use the internet, Mom."
Adeline stands up and begins to pace. "So she lied about the pregnancy?"
"I don't know. She went for cheekups. Had vitamins and everything. Even showed me the result. Positive."
"Where's the result?"
"I don't know."
Ryan's head pounds with the weight of the conversation. His mother's pacing grates on his nerves. He rubs his temples, half-wishing she'd storm out and half-dreading the moment she'll leave him alone with the suffocating mess he's made of his life. "Emily still has things here," Adeline says. "Maybe she left something behind. I'll check.
"Yeah, sure," Ryan mutters, feeling drained.
Without waiting for a reply, she walks out of the room. Ryan sighs and pushes himself to his feet. He needs to do something-anything-to shake off the oppressive fog of failure hanging over him.
He heads to the bathroom, turning on the light. The harsh glare illuminates the tired man staring back at him in the mirror. His reflection looks like a stranger's: bloodshot eyes, an unshaven jaw, and a gauntness that wasn't there before. "You look like shit," he says to himself, grabbing his toothbrush.
The minty burn of toothpaste jolts him awake just a little. He rinses his mouth, splashes cold water on his face, and stares at his reflection again. No better. The same wreck.
CHAPTER 096: Chrysanthemund
With a deep breath, he turns off the light and leaves the bathroom. He doesn't want to sit idly waiting for his mother to return. Maybe together they'll find something that could give
him a lead.
He makes his way to her room. The door is ajar
The room smells faintly of lavender. It's neat, pristine even. His eyes dart around, scanning for her.
"Mom?"
But what catches his attention is something else. A file sitting on the dresser.
Curious, he approaches the dresser and picks up the file. He flips it open, scanning the
contents.
It's a salés contract. His mother has sold Paragon Jewels to Illusionaire.
His fingers tighten around the papers, the edges cutting into his skin. What the actual fuck?
The door creaks, and he turns to see his mother standing in the doorway, her face unreadable.
"What are you doing in my room, Ryan?"
"You sold the company?"
She closes the door behind her, walking in with the same regal composure she always carries, like nothing can rattle her.
"You've been living in a bubble," she says, crossing her arms. "Your public disgrace didn't just pull you down; it dragged the company with it. Firing you wasn't enough to save it.
Ryan laughs bitterly, the sound harsh and hollow. "Wow. You just told me O'Briens don't quit. This looks an awful lot like giving up."
"Look, Ryan, your father and I own a home in Belize. That's where we've been spending most of our retirement. Once this trial is over, I'll get us both one-way tickets. We'll work out the residency logistics later. A fresh start."
""A fresh start?"
"Yes, a fresh start," she says firmly. "All you have to do is make this go away. There must be something you know, something you've forgotten. Think, Ryan."
He shakes his head, the anger bubbling under his skin. "A fresh start," he says again, letting the sarcasm drip from his words. "You're unbelievable."
"Think, Ryan. And leave my room while you're at it."
He tosses the file back onto the dresser. "You're something else, Mom."
CHAPTER 096: Chrysanthemums
Without waiting for her response, he stalks out slamming the door behind him.
Back in his room, the tension in his chest only grows. He paces until his eyes land on the bouquet of chrysanthemums sitting on the table, their petals vibrant and mocking.
And then it hits him.
The red light. The camera.
"Oh, God," he whispers.
How could he have forgotten? How could he have been so blind? The memory of Emily's camera, that blinking red light, sears into his brain.
Julie.
He grabs his phone, dialing with shaking hands
CHAPTER 097: A Thousand Deaths -Julie-
We're at a bridal boutique, and Carolina's excitement could power a small city. Baby Valeria is strapped to her chest, a tiny, sleeping bundle of calm amidst the chaos her mother is stirring up. Carolina jumps from one gown to the next. Her enthusiasm is contagious, even though I'm already sweating from the sheer force of it.
"Isn't Valeria heavy?" I ask, watching as the baby shifts against her chest. "Are you sure you don't need a break?"
She waves me off. "No. You get used to it. It's like she isn't there."
"Oh."
Before I can say anything else, Carolina turns to me. She places a hand on my stomach.
"You're already showing!" she exclaims. "Know the sex yet?"
I smile. "No, I was thinking we could work a surprise reveal into the wedding."
"Ohhhh!" she squeals. Her face lights up. "That's magnificent. The family's going to go ballistic."
"Careful so you don't wake her," I say, nodding toward Valeria, who stirs at the sound of her mother's excitement.
"Don't worry. When she's fed, she sleeps like a rock."
The sales attendant, a young woman with the demeanor of someone who's seen too many bridal meltdowns, clears her throat. "Um, would you like to get started on the dresses?" Carolina doesn't miss a beat. She points at a massive ball gown with enough tulle to engulf a small car. "That one is great!"
I eye it warily. "Too large."
"Too large?" She looks at me like I've just insulted the sacred institution of marriage itself. "Wedding dresses are traditionally round and difficult to walk in. I tripped on my wedding day." "That's not exactly encouraging."
"It was fun!"
The sales attendant interjects, clearly eager to steer this runaway train. "We have an extensive collection of fitted dresses, if that's what you'd prefer, Ms. Jenkins."
CHAPTER 007 A Thousand Deale
"Sure. That would be wonderful."
"Oh no," Carolina says, clutching her chest as she's been shot. "So you're not going to look like a balloon on your wedding day?"
"I hope not."
She pouts, disappointed. "The steady decline of round brides."
"Right," I say, turning to the sales attendant. "We'll look at those dresses now."
As we follow the attendant to another section of the store, Carolina is already on to her next topic. "Have you thought of a color for your bridesmaids?" "Bridesmaids?"
"Yeah! I'm married, so I'm out of the list. But there's Isabel, Sofia... one of my elder sisters isn't married. Andrea. You met her at the Christmas Eve dinner. "I did."
"And then we're going to have a number of cousins. "Cousins?"
"I was thinking ten bridesmaids. Is that enough?"
"Ten?"
"
I blink at her, wondering if I've somehow wandered into a reality show. Ten bridesmaids? Who even knows ten people well enough to ask them to do that? My brain spins as I picture myself standing at the altar surrounded by a small army in matching gowns. I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice even. "That's... a lot.
"You think so?" she asks, genuinely confused. "It's just the basics, really. Oh, and we can't forget little Valeria! She can be a flower girl. Imagine her toddling down the aiste."
"She's not even walking yet.
"She will be by then! I'll train her. It'll be adorable."
I'm beginning to regret saying no to Luke's Vegas plan. We could have eloped, just the two of us, no bridesmaids, no flower girls, no cousins I barely know. But no, I'd convinced myself that his family deserved a celebration after everything they'd been through. Now, as Carolina's plans spiral further out of control, I feel like I've shot myself in the foot.
"Julie, you're going to need a theme, "Carolina continues. "And maybe matching robes for all the bridesmaids for the pre-ceremony photos. Oh! And custom slippers! What size are you? I'll make a note."
CHAPTER 098: The Real Definition Of Peace
I and Marissa, the vice president of marketing, have formed a new habit of meeting for lunch. It started as casual, a convenience thing we both needed a break from the relentless grind at Illusionaire. Now, it's become a ritual. I'm still unsure if this qualifies as friendship, mainly because I don't know what friendship actually looks like. But Marissa talks a lot, and I love to listen. Her stories have this wild, messy charm, like someone spilling glitter across a chaotic art project.
We're at a cozy little café a few blocks from work, the kind of place that tries too hard to be trendy with its mismatched furniture and aggressively minimalist menu. Marissa is mid- rant about her current boyfriend and her dog, gesturing with a fork that's dangerously close to flinging her salad across the room.
"I swear, Nathan only comes over to spend time with Chubbs."
I choke on my sip of iced tea. "Chubbs?"
She nods. "My French bulldog. He's-how do I put this-larger than life. And I mean larger. The vet politely called him 'robust,' but we both know he meant obese. The little chunk wobbles when he walks."
I laugh, picturing a French bulldog teetering like a bowling pin about to fall over. "So, Nathan has bonded with your dog. I'm guessing that's a good thing?"
Marissa leans back in her chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "It would be if he didn't act like Chubbs was his dog. Do you know he feeds Chubbs by hand? Organic turkey slices. Like he's preparing him for some Michelin-star meal. Last weekend, he bought Chubbs a sweater. A cashmere sweater. Said it was 'necessary for his comfort.' I didn't even know they made cashmere for dogs!"
I shake my head, trying not to laugh too loudly. This is a welcome change from the guilt I've been feeling all morning. "I mean, it's kind of sweet. Shows he cares."
"Sweet?" She leans forward. "Julie, the man told me 'he understands Chubbs on a spiritual level. I kid you not. They have this whole... thing. Like Chubbs will sit there, giving him side -eye-he does this thing with his little tongue sticking out-and Nathan will be like, 'Ah, I see. You're upset I didn't bring the turkey slices today.' And I'm standing there like, 'What the hell are you two even talking about?""
I burst out laughing, earning a few glances from the other patrons. "Okay, but now I need to know-does Nathan have a spiritual connection with you, or is it just Chubbs?"
"Oh, we have a connection. But it's not spiritual. It's more... physical, more submission and handcuffs. You know what I mean."
I groan, covering my face with my hands. "I didn't need to know that."
CHAPTER 096 The Real Definition Of Peace
"What?" She shrugs. "I'm just saying. The man might be in love with my dog, but he's not bad at showing me some attention too."
"Sounds like you're competing with Chubbs for his affection."
"I am! I'm not denying that. I feel like he might be the one, though. I'd rather have a guy who's sweet to my dog than one who ignores him. Chubbs is basically my child. And Nathan ... he's good with Chubbs. He's good with me. For now, that's enough." I nod, swirling my straw in my glass. "Sounds like you've got a good thing going."
"I do. But that's an old story. Tell me about you, Julie.'
"}
"Me?" I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms and staring at Marissa.
"Yes, you. It's like I know nothing about you. How are you holding up after the divorce?"
A soft laugh escapes me, and I shake my head. "It's been months, Marissa. I'm happily engaged and pregnant. The wedding's in three weeks."
So what? Your ex-husband's been all over the news. I don't know about you, but I'd be mad if the evidence of my ex's infidelity went viral."
I shrug, letting a smile curve my lips, though it barely touches the edges of my eyes. Doesn't bother me a bit."
"You're a better person than me then."
"Not exactly. It's called acceptance."
"Grief 101?" Marissa leans forward, lowering her voice. "You know, the CEO's secretary was gossiping about Illusionaire acquiring Paragon Jewels. Apparently, they're keeping it super hush-hush."
I take a moment to process her words. "Adeline O'Brien sold the company?"
She nods, leaning back and sipping her iced tea "I mean, it's not hard to see why. Did he really do all those things? Force Emily into a relationship? I feel sad every time she talks about the torment she endured."
I shift my gaze to the window, watching cars pass by and pedestrians scurry across the street. The movement is oddly soothing, a chaotic rhythm that keeps my thoughts from spiraling too far.
""What?" Marissa says.
I snap back to the present, blinking at her. "Sorry?"
"You had a funny look just now.
"Well, I... I was wondering if I should say it."
CHAPTER 098: The Real Definition Of Peace
"Say what?"
"Emily's lying. Ryan might be a lot of things, but he didn't do all that. She's just trying to
ruin him."
Marissa's jaw drops. "But there was that footage of him-"
I cut her off. "She lied to him about being pregnant with his child. Turns out, she was using that for monetary gain. In the video, he'd just found out. We were married for seven years, Marissa. Seven. Countless tests. Spent a small fortune on fertility treatments. The doctors couldn't explain why they didn't work. We were both healthy. It was like the universe decided we weren't meant to have kids. So when Emily got pregnant, I thought maybe I was the problem. Maybe there was some condition the doctors missed." I pause, my throat tightening as I push the words out. "Then I got pregnant. And Emily's child wasn't Ryan's. And...well, it's a feeling you won't understand until you've felt it. The possibility that you were the problem all along. He was wrong for how he reacted. But Emily deserves as much heat as he's getting." 1
Marissa leans forward, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait a damn minute. How did he figure out the baby wasn't his?"
"I told him."
"You told him? You knew?"
I hesitate, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. "I caught her cheating, and she confessed. I recorded it. I even blackmailed her to get evidence for the divorce trial."
Marissa sets her tea down. "You had this all along and let that bitch climb to the stars as the media queen?"
"What was I supposed to do?"
Marissa's face is a mix of exasperation and awe "What was-where's your revenge spirit?" 1
Before I can respond, she's yanking her phone out of her bag, her fingers flying across the
screen.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Texting my cousin. He works for a big gossip column. This is going to be huge. And with the pre-trial by 3 p.m.? Imagine the horror when Emily gets to court and realizes no one's cheering for her. I will empty my bank account to see that.'
I watch her, torn between disbelief and a laugh bubbling in my throat. "Are you sure about this?"
She doesn't even look up, her focus laser-sharp on her phone. "Oh, my cousin's already
responded. He's excited. Now send me that evidence."
Thesitate, gripping the edge of the table as if it's the only thing anchoring me.
Marissa looks up. "Julie?"
I don't answer right away. My mind is a whirlwind, pulling apart the threads of the last few hours, wondering if some cosmic force has been aligning everything to this moment. I'd been restless since last night, unable to shake the feeling that I'm evil for hoarding the evidence. And now here's Marissa, practically taking the problem out of my hands.
"Thank you," I say, my voice soft.
"For what?"
"Just... thank you.
She narrows her eyes, suspicious. "Alright, are you sending the evidence or not?"
I exhale. "Give me a moment. I have to edit some things out."
Her grin is Cheshire-like. "Take your time. But not too much time. We've got a bitch to burn."
Despite myself, I laugh. Maybe, just maybe, this is the real definition of peace: a chaotic end to an existing chaos.
CHAPTER 099: The Demons She Fought Ryan O'Brien~~
It's fifteen minutes before the pre-trial, and Ryan's car pulls into the courthouse. As Justin, his chauffeur and bodyguard, cuts the ignition, Ryan stares through the tinted window at the swarm of reporters and onlookers gathered outside like vultures, cameras poised for the kill. He can practically hear the click of shutters, the incessant questions ready to pounce, though he hasn't even stepped out yet. Adeline is beside him, looking as bored as ever.
Adeline taps her manicured nails against the leather armrest. She looks as though she'd rather be anywhere else, though Ryan knows better. His mother thrives on drama, especially when she's not the one under fire.
"How long is this circus going to take?" she says.
1
"You didn't have to come." Ryan loosens his tie, the knot around his neck nothing compared to the one in his chest.
Adeline shrugs. "I had nothing better to do. Besides, someone has to ensure you don't embarrass the family name more than you already have."
"Thanks for the support, Mom."
"Oh, don't act like a martyr. You're the one who got yourself into this mess. You broke one of the cardinal rules for staying on top: Don't fuck your secretary. I'm just here for moral support or damage control, depending on how you perform today." Ryan's glare could melt steel. "She tricked me.
"Spare me the sob story. You're not the victim here. Grow up and start taking
responsibility for your actions." Her gaze shifts to the window, assessing the chaotic scene outside. "Anyway, shall we? The vultures look ravenous."
Justin turns in his seat. "Ready?"
Ryan nods. "As I'll ever be."
Justin steps out first, moving quickly to open the back door. The moment Ryan slides out, reporters hit him like a tidal wave.
"Mr. O'Brien! Do you have any comment on the allegations?"
"Ryan, are the rumors true about a settlement?"
"Mrs. O'Brien, how do you feel about your son's actions?"
Adeline steps out next, her heels clicking against the pavement. She pauses just long enough to flash a cold, practiced smile that manages to exude both superiority and utter
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indifference.
"No comment," she says.
Justin flanks them, parting the sea of reporters Ryan keeps his head down, jaw clenched so tightly he can feel the strain in his temples.
The courthouse doors swing open. Once they're in and the noise outside fades into muffled voices, Ryan exhales slowly.
"I'll wait here," Adeline announces, gesturing to a row of leather chairs in the waiting area. "Try not to make a spectacle of yourself."
"Thanks for the pep talk," Ryan mutters, running a hand through his hair as he strides toward the conference room.
The door creaks open, and Ben Wallace, his lawyer and longtime friend, looks up from the table. He waves Ryan over.
"Afternoon, Ryan. You look like shit," Ben says in greeting.
"Thank you. Got anything?" Ryan's voice is low, strained.
Ben leans back in his chair, tapping a pen against the legal pad in front of him. "I've got a few leads we can work with, and I've tried to line up some witnesses. But to be honest, most are too afraid of the media fallout. My advice? Let's try to settle this with Emily before, it goes any further." Ryan's jaw tightens. "I'm not giving that bitch a dime."
"You might not have much of a choice. You shouldn't have started anything with her. Or get caught on camera pinning her against a wall."
"That's because she deceived me." Ryan's words are clipped.
"Deceived you? Like she held a gun to your head and forced you to start a relationship with her? Come on, man. Nobody believes that." Ryan leans forward, his voice a low growl. "Do you?"
Ben hesitates, the pause dragging just long enough to sting. "I'm your lawyer. I'll believe whatever you want me to believe." "That's not an answer."
"Well, it's the one you're getting."
Ryan scowls, running his hand through his hair for what feels like the hundredth time." This whole thing is a setup."
"Maybe. But that's not going to fly in court. You're a public figure, Ryan. The jury's going
The Demons She Fought
to see a rich guy who couldn't keep it in his pants, not some innocent victim of a conspiracy."
Before Ryan can respond, the door opens. Emily strides in. She's dressed to kill, her tailored blazer and pencil skirt screaming confidence and control.
Her lawyer, a sharp-looking man with steel-gray hair, follows close behind, his demeanor as polished as his expensive watch.
Emily's smug smile is the first thing Ryan notices, and it makes his blood boil.
"Good afternoon, Ryan," she says, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. Ryan doesn't reply.
Emily's lawyer steps forward, extending a hand to Ben. "Robert Lang. A pleasure."
Ben shakes his hand briefly, his expression unreadable.
Emily slides into the chair across from Ryan, crossing her legs. "So," she says, "are we ready to talk about how you're going to make this right?"
Ryan leans forward, fists clenched on the table. "The only thing I'm ready to talk about is how quickly you can drop this nonsense and move on with your life.'
>>
"Oh, Ryan. Still delusional, I see. This 'nonsense' you're referring to is my life. You dragged me into it, remember?"
Ben places a hand on Ryan's arm, a silent plea for restraint.
Robert clears his throat. "Let's keep this professional, shall we? We're here to discuss terms, not trade insults."
Ryan glares at him. "There are no terms. I'm not paying her a cent."
"Then I guess we'll see you in court," Emily says.
Ben leans closer to Ryan, his voice low but firm. "You're not helping yourself here."
Ryan ignores him, his focus locked on Emily. "You're not going to win."
She smiles. "Oh, I will. And I'll enjoy every moment of it."
Ryan can feel his pulse pounding, his control slipping with every passing second. Before he can respond, a phone pings. Heads swivel toward the sound. Emily's lawyer glances down at his phone-obviously the culprit. His brows knit together in confusion. Then he leans toward Emily, whispering something inaudible. Her smirk falters, replaced by a look of shock as she snatches the phone from his hand.
Emily's entire attention falls on that screen, and with each passing second, her expression darkens. She suddenly stands, her chair scraping against the floor. Without a word, she
CHAPTER 099: The Demons She Fought
storms out of the room.
"Emily," Robert calls, standing and scrambling to stop her. He calls her name all the way
out.
"What just happened?" Ryan says, turning toward Ben, who is now staring at his own phone, thumbs flying across the screen. The privacy filter on the screen blocks Ryan from seeing anything, but Ben's expression shifts-first confusion, then amusement, and finally outright laughter.
"What's so funny?" Ryan asks.
Ben doesn't look up. "It seems Emily won't be able to afford her lawyer anymore. The internet is on fire, Ryan. And for once, it's in your favor."
"What are you talking about?"
Ben sets his phone down, a grin stretching across his face. "A video just dropped. Emily, your precious Emily, was caught on an office desk with one of your employees. A guy named James, ring a bell?"
Ryan's brain struggles to process the words. "Who the hell is James?"
"It gets better." Ben leans back, thoroughly enjoying himself. "Right after that, an audio clip was posted. A conversation between Emily, James, and your ex-wife, Julie."
Ryan's heart skips a beat at the mention of Julie. "What kind of conversation?"
"The kind where James admits the baby isn't yours. Apparently, it's his kid. Emily tried to pull a smart one on you, hoping to climb to the top by giving you what you so desperately wanted. A baby. She called it... what was the phrase? Oh yeah, 'hustling."" Ben's grin turns wolfish. "And now 'hustling' is the top trending hashtag on X."
For a moment, Ryan says nothing. The information crashes over him in waves-betrayal, relief, disbelief. And then, like a dam breaking, he laughs. It's loud, bitter, and uncontrollable.
He almost doesn't hear Ben asking, "Do you think Julie's behind the leak?"
Ryan's laughter fades, replaced by a contemplative silence. His thoughts drift to Julie, her calm strength, her knack for always being three steps ahead. Oh, of course she leaked it. She's such a sweetheart. He barely notices when the court clerk walks in, her voice a distant hum as she and Ben exchange legal jargon.
"Your Honor's clerk," Ben says. "I need to bring to your attention a development that's just occurred. A video and an audio clip have surfaced online that directly contradict the plaintiff's claims. Furthermore, the plaintiff and her counsel abruptly left the room, despite our attempts to continue the proceedings."
"I see," she replies. "Do you have any information about the plaintiff's intentions or
She Fought
whether they plan to return?"
"Unfortunately, no. They departed without explanation. Given the circumstances and the new evidence, we'd like to request guidance on how to proceed."
Ryan tunes their voices out, thinking about how he hasn't been this happy in months. He's going to send Julie a gift. No, is that too much? Jeez, she probably still despises him. He tunes back in just as the judge enters.
The judge's stern gaze sweeps the room. "What's this about the plaintiff leaving?"
Ben stands. "Your Honor, new evidence has surfaced online that directly contradicts the plaintiff's claims. We request the case be dismissed or ruled in favor of the defendant."
The judge frowns, glancing at the court clerk. "Is this evidence verified?"
The clerk nods, holding out a tablet. "It's already circulating widely, Your Honor."
The judge takes a moment to review the information. "Counselor, can you tell me more about this evidence that's surfaced online? What steps have you taken to verify its authenticity?"
As Ben speaks, Ryan watches his lips and hands move, but it's like trying to listen underwater. It's a good thing he never became a lawyer. He'd be bored to death.
"...However, the newly surfaced evidence reveals that the plaintiff confessed to deceiving the defendant, passing off her boyfriend's child as the defendant's, in an attempt to gain favor within the company..."
This catches Ryan's attention. Every time he thinks about that part, it peels off the scab of an existing wound, one that's barely healed. God, when would this all be over?
The judge is now speaking, "In light of this new evidence and the plaintiff's unexplained absence, I'm inclined to grant a default judgment in favor of the defendant. However, I want to ensure that the plaintiff had adequate notice and opportunity to respond. Clerk, please confirm that the plaintiff was properly notified of the hearing and that they've had sufficient time to respond to the new evidence."
"Yes, Your Honor," the clerk says. "The plaintiff was properly notified, and their counsel was present at the start of the hearing. However, they departed abruptly without explanation.'
"Very well. Given the circumstances, I'm granting a default judgment in favor of the defendant. The case is dismissed."
Ryan feels a surreal lightness. Ben shakes his hand with a triumphant grin, but Ryan barely registers it. His mind is elsewhere-on Julie. On every demon she must have fought in her mind before choosing to leak that evidence.
When he steps out into the hallway, he pulls out his phone and types a message: "Thank
you.' It's simple, but he hopes she'll understand everything he can't put into words.
"Ryan." A familiar voice pulls him back to reality. His mother is standing in the waiting area, arms crossed. "I saw Emily storm out earlier. What the hell happened? And why is it so loud outside?"
Ryan glances toward the courthouse doors, where reporters and bystanders are undoubtedly swarming. He smiles, a real, genuine smile that feels foreign on his face. He hopes Emily didn't make it out in time before the mob turned on her. He hopes she gets so bullied that she deactivates her socials. He hopes she goes into hiding and he never sets eyes on her again. The list of his hopes is endless. But most importantly, he hopes this brings him peace.
"How's the weather in Belize this time of year?" he asks his mother.
"What?"
"I'm thinking of taking a vacation. As you suggested."
Adeline squints at him. "Are you going to tell me what happened in there?"
He slings an arm over her shoulder, steering her toward the exit. "It's a long story. I'll tell you on the way home."
"Unhand me, Ryan."
Ryan shakes his head. "Not happening. Smile brightly for the cameras, Mom."
The courthouse doors swing open, and the noise of the crowd rushes in. But for the first time in months, Ryan feels like he's stepping into the light.
CHAPTER 100: You're Not Alone -Julle~~
People say all brides are late to their weddings. It's practically a tradition, isn't it? But me? I was not going to be one of those brides. I had a plan. I gave myself a generous window- ten, maybe fifteen minutes tops-because, really, what could possibly make me late? The answer, apparently, is everything.
Here I am, forty minutes behind schedule, crammed in the backseat of a car with Marissa, my maid of honor, wrestling with my veil like it's some kind of unruly octopus.
"Hold still," Marissa says, her fingers tangled in the fabric. "You keep moving, and this thing's going to look like a bird nested in your hair."
"I wouldn't be moving if we weren't speeding down the road like we're in a car chase," I shoot back, my head jerking as the driver swerves to avoid another car.
The blame? It falls squarely on last night's rehearsal dinner. It felt like the entire world showed up. Luke's family alone must have taken up half the venue, and their energy? Boundless. How do they even keep track of themselves? One of his aunts-a woman whose name I still can't remember-spent an hour teaching me how to dance cumbia and vallenato. Honestly, I could have spent the entire night just spinning around in circles with her if it weren't for the endless interruptions. Toasts, hugs, and a surprise karaoke session where Luke belted out "Bésame Mucho" like his life depended on it. It was chaos, the kind of beautiful, messy chaos that made me fall for him in the first place.
But it also meant I didn't get back to my hotel room until way too late, and this morning was a blur of misplaced makeup bags, a hairstylist running behind, and my bouquet almost being left behind in a fridge.
"Almost there!" the driver shouts over his shoulder.
"Define almost," I say. "Because if this dress wrinkles any more, I'm going to look like I pulled it out of a suitcase."
Marissa smirks. "Luke won't care. He'd marry you in pajamas if he had to."
I sink back into the seat, letting out a deep breath. My fingers itch to check the mirror again, but resist.
"Do you think my cheeks are too pink?" I ask instead, suddenly self-conscious.
Marissa rolls her eyes. "You're a glowing bride, Julie. You look stunning. Stop worrying."
"I feel so happy that I might burst. Is that normal?"
"It means you're marrying the love of your life.
CHAPTER 100 Youte Not Alone
I can't help but smile at that. "He's quite charming, isn't he?"
Marissa smirks. "He's your groom. You tell me
The car slows to a stop in front of the church, and my heart skips a beat.
"Finally," I breathe.
The second I step out, I'm blinded by the flash of a camera. "Oh my God," I mumble, shielding my eyes. The wedding photographer is already at it, snapping away like I'm a celebrity on a red carpet. With lightning-fast reflexes, she darts from side to side, capturing every angle of my entrance. "Smile, Julie!" Marissa says, practically dragging me toward the church steps.
I manage a weak grin, clutching my dress as I climb the stairs. My heel catches on the hem, and I stumble.
"Whoa!" Marissa grabs my arm, steadying me.
burst into laughter, the irony hitting me. "You know," I say between giggles, "this is exactly why I didn't pick one of those giant ballgowns. Carolina told me she tripped on hers, and I was like... hell no. Look at me now, falling like a round bride."
Marissa grins as she adjusts my train. "Let's get you inside before the officiant quits."
We make our way to the vestry, where a loud cheer greets me. My bridesmaids, the flower girls, and some well-wishers are behind the clapping and whistling.
Sophia and Isabel rush forward to hug me, careful not to smudge my makeup. "You look incredible," Sophia says, her voice warm.
"Thank you," I reply.
A sharp knock interrupts the chaos. The wedding coordinator pokes her head in, looking frazzled. "Are we ready? The officiant has been waiting."
The bridesmaids, who had been chattering and laughing, suddenly scatter, filing out one by one in a flurry of satin and silk. They adjust their bouquets, smooth their dresses, and exchange nervous smiles as they make their way out of the vestry. The sound of their heels clicking on the stone floor echoes back into the room, growing fainter with each passing moment, until it's just me and Marissa standing alone in silence.
I exhale, my nerves catching up with me.
"What is it?" Marissa asks. It's only when she pulls out a tissue from her purse to dab at my eyes that I realize I'm crying. "Now's not the time for your hormones to act up."
"It's not that," I say. "I don't know if I can go in there alone. My dad walked me down the aisle the first time."
CHAPTER 100 Youde Not Alone
$75 BOARS
I feel a lump form in my throat as I think about my first wedding. My entire family had been there. But now, they aren't speaking to me, still hurt over the lawsuit I filed against my mom. It's hard not to feel bitter about their sell. I've always been there for them, supporting them through thick and thin, and yet they chose her.
I thought I'd moved past it. But here I am now, thinking about it, getting my feelings hurt.
Luke's family has welcomed me with open arms. They're a big, boisterous clan, always laughing and hugging each other. They're the kind of family I've always wanted but never really had. I've always felt like an outsider, an alien in my own family. And now, as I prepare to start a new life with Luke, I'm reminded of just how alone I am. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes again.
Marissa's expression turns sympathetic, and she takes my hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "Oh, Julie," she whispers. "You're not alone, okay? You never have been. I'm here for you, and I'll be right by your side every step of the way." She takes a deep breath. "I'I walk you down that aisle. We'll do it together. You're strong, you're brave, and you're loved. Come on. Let's take you to your groom before he thinks you eloped."
I laugh.
Music drifts in from the church, growing louder as the song shifts to the bridal march. Marissa lifts my veil, carefully draping it over my face.
"Ready?" she asks.
""As I'll ever be."
Together, we step out into the packed church. The air is electric. Every face is turned toward us. My heart pounds as I take that first step down the aisle, my eyes locking onto Luke at the altar.