My Husband Wants An Open Marriage (Julie and Ryan)
Open Billionaire 57

CHAPTER 057: Meek Act

Emily looks like she's about to explode. Ryan can see her clenching and unclenching her fists. Then she says, "Probably because I'm Ryan's secretary?"

"A secretary who was on her lunch break."

Emily lets out a humorless laugh. "Being on my lunch break doesn't make me any less his secretary."

Ryan rubs his temples as if the more presence of both women in the same room is giving him a headache. "Can you both stop? I'm going through enough as it is. I don't need two women clawing each other's eyes out in my office." "Great," Emily says. "I was just about to go."

"Oh, no, you're not," Adeline interjects. "I don't trust whatever this is. I don't trust you. If there's something going on, now would be an excellent time to start talking."

Emily opens her mouth to retort, but Ryan has had enough. He stands abruptly, grabbing his jacket and briefcase with a sharp, determined motion.

"Let's go." He strides toward Emily, nodding to the door. "I've had enough of my mother for one day.

"It's still a couple of hours before the workday ends," Adeline says.

I'm the boss," Ryan says. "I'm leaving."

He holds the door open for Emily, and together they start to exit the office. But Adeline's voice follows them.

"That's right, go home," she calls out. "Have your fun, breed more low-class babies. You two are a perfect match."

Emily stiffens, but Ryan places a steady hand on her back, urging her forward. They make it down the hallway, out of earshot, before Emily finally lets out a long breath, her face pale with anger. "Low-class babies?" she murmurs. "She... she's such a bitch."

"I know."

Emily's hands tremble as she reaches for her purse, trying to compose herself. "I don't understand how you put up with her, I really don't."

"Believe me, it's not by choice." He hesitates, glancing back toward the office they left. "She's always been ... controlling, manipulative. I thought once I was old enough, I could break free, but somehow, she's always there, lurking, pulling the strings."

As they step into the elevator, Emily watches him, her expression softening. A small crease of concern etches between her brows, "Ryan.... are you okay?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "I haven't been okay in weeks, Emily. Not since Julie left."

"Right," she says. "If it's any consolation, I haven't been okay either. Moving into your mother's house was the worst thing we ever did. I miss our cook, Martha. Your mother's cook is threatening to poison me with gluten. We need to move out." CHAPTER 057 Meek Act

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"I'm working on it."

She sighs. "Are you really? Because I feel like you've been saying that for a while now, and here we are, still under the same roof as the Iron Lady herself."

He punches out a quick text to his chauffeur Justin: Get the car ready. He can hardly hear Emily's voice as she continues to talk, her words merging with the hum of the elevator,

"Are you even listening to me?" she says, poking his arm.

"Yes, Emily, I'm listening. We'll get out of there as soon as I sort things out," he says, pocketing his phone." Just hang in there."

As they reach the lobby, Emily's demeanor shifts. She straightens her skirt and clasps her hands in front of her, eyes downcast, as she always does when they are before other employees. Ryan scoffs inwardly- everyone knows they're living together. This meek act doesn't fool anyone.

Outside, Justin stands beside the glossy black Rolls-Royce, his face blank but his posture attentive. As they approach, he opens the door for Emily, nodding briefly to Ryan.

"Where to?" Justin asks once Ryan settles into the back seat. ""Home."

Justin glances in the rearview mirror. "Which home, sir?"

Ryan rolls his eyes. "My mother's house."

With a slight nod, Justin pulls out, merging smoothly into traffic. The silence in the car is heavy, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine. Ryan leans back, staring out the window at the fading city lights, his mind a jumbled mess of frustration and exhaustion. He feels Emily's hand creep over to his knee, but he doesn't respond, too tired to even muster up a

reaction.

Later that night, Ryan sits up in bed, the dim light casting shadows over the pages of a self-help book. How to Avoid Divorce: A Complete Guide for Reconnecting. His eyes skim the lines with mounting frustration. The author seems to dance around the real issues, suggesting small acts of kindness and- communication strategies, none of which feel remotely applicable to his fractured, turbulent life.

He sighs, rubbing his temples. Just as he's about to turn the page, he feels a pair of hands sliding over his shoulders, creeping down his chest.

"Emily," he says, not even looking up from the book, "what are you doing?"

She leans in, her breath warm against his neck. "It's been a while since you touched me, Ryan. I'm pregnant, and pregnant women have needs, you know,

Her hands wander lower, tracing his abdomen, slipping beneath the sheets. Ryan flinches, feeling more discomfort than anything else.

"Emily, now's really not a great time."

CHAPTER 057, Meek Act.

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Her hands pause, and she pulls back slightly. "That's what you say every time. Do you know what it feels like to be young and subjected to the sex life of a boomer?"

He raises an eyebrow, finally looking at her, "Are you calling me a boomer?"

"I'm saying that I'm horny, and you keep pushing me away."

Ryan sighs, letting his head fall back against the headboard, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. "Alright.

Go on."

As Emily moves down on him, his thoughts begin to drift, spiraling toward the same place they always do

Julie. He can almost picture her as she was in their happier days, dancing around naked in their bedroom in one of her goofy, improvised ballet routines, making him laugh so hard his stomach hurt. She'd look back at him with that impish grin, a sparkle in her eyes, and suddenly the world felt... right.

Whole.

He blinks, jolting back to the present as he realizes he's now hard. Emily, sensing the change, lets out a gleeful noise

"He has risen," she murmurs, pulling back just enough to tug at her clothes, eyes bright with satisfaction. As she moves to undress, Ryan's gaze falls on a small vase of flowers in the corner, a modest arrangement of chrysanthemums. His brow furrows-something about them doesn't seem quite right. He squints, leaning forward, convinced he saw a flicker of movement.

something wrong with the flowers?" he asks, more to himself than to Emily.

She glances over, a frown crossing her face. "What?"

"They... look like they're blinking or something."

Emily laughs, but it's forced, a high, shaky sound. "Why would you think the flowers are blinking, Ryan?"

But Ryan can't shake the feeling. He stands up, ignoring Emily's protest as he crosses the room, his eyes trained on the flowers. The faint, rhythmic glint catches his eye again-a small, barely noticeable blinking light buried between the petals.

"Ryan, come back to bed," Emily says, trying to pull him back, but he steps around her, lifting the vase to inspect it closer. There, tucked between the stems, is a tiny, inconspicuous camera lens.

His stomach sinks. He turns to face Emily, holding up the vase. "Why is there a spy camera in the flower, Emily?"