My Husband Wants An Open Marriage

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."This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

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.