You Wanted Open Marriage. I Did. Why Mad ?

My husband used our so-called "open marriage" as a shield, shamelessly bringing his mistress home.

He was dead sure I had a bottom line and would never cross it.

Until the night I stayed out until dawn, returning with the faint smell of alcohol.

The ever-arrogant man shattered a vase in a jealous rage. He gripped my wrist hard enough to bruise, demanding to know which hotel I’d been to and who I’d been with.

To punish my "betrayal," he officially moved his mistress in, turning a blind eye as she made my life a living hell.

Then, desperate to replace me completely, that woman rammed her car straight into me.

While I lay in the hospital bed, my husband used my father’s company as leverage, forcing me to sign a settlement to keep his mistress out of jail.

He shielded her as they walked away, completely unaware that just half an hour earlier in the ER, I had miscarried his child.

My heart turned to ash. I left the signed divorce papers and vanished.

Tearing the city apart to find me, he dug up the hotel security footage from the night I never came home—only to realize I had been completely innocent the entire time.

Then, he stumbled upon my hospital records, detailing the massive hemorrhage and the loss of our baby from the crash.

That arrogant, untouchable man finally realized the catastrophic mistake he had made.

————

I stood outside Sterling's half-open office door, holding two iced Americanos I had just bought.

Just as I raised my hand to push it open, a burst of laughter drifted out, mingling with the heavy scent of cigar smoke.

"Seriously though, what do you think of the new intern, Chloe?"

One of Sterling's friends spoke, his tone laced with obvious teasing.

"She's twenty-two. Very young, and extremely obedient."

Sterling's voice was relaxed and easy.

"And you're really just going to take her to the yacht party this weekend?" another friend chimed in. "Aren't you afraid your gorgeous wife, Diana, will find out?"

"Diana knows everything." I could almost hear Sterling exhaling a plume of smoke. "After we got married, I set the rule for an open marriage. We each find our own fun outside, no interference."

Listening to the commotion inside, my hand froze in mid-air.

When he first proposed this arrangement three years ago, we had countless explosive arguments at home.

But after every fight, he would relentlessly push his twisted logic onto me.

He insisted it was simply a high-end, modern lifestyle. He swore that the women outside were merely to satisfy his physical needs, and that I was his one true love.

Desperate to save our relationship, I eventually caved. I had naively hoped that if I showed enough tolerance, he would one day put an end to his wandering.

"But man," the friend in the office spoke again, asking the blunt question, "Diana is stunning. Are you really not worried she'll just go find some other guy?"

Sterling burst into laughter, his voice brimming with absolute confidence. "Her? She could never bring herself to sleep with another man. We've been married for three years. She comes home on time every single night and never goes out with strangers."

The room fell silent for a couple of seconds before murmurs of sudden realization and agreement echoed.

Standing outside the door, I froze. My blood ran completely cold.

Sterling had always known I wouldn't cheat.

It had nothing to do with him pursuing some avant-garde philosophy. He just knew exactly where my boundaries lay and was certain I wouldn't cross them, using it as a convenient excuse to justify his own reckless affairs.

The memories of the past three years flashed through my mind.

Not long after our honeymoon, he frequently came home reeking of other women's perfume. Later, it escalated to him brazenly bringing strangers straight into our house.

Whenever I reached my breaking point, he would shut me down with the "open marriage" rule, even provocatively daring me to go out and try it myself.

I turned around, tossed the two coffees into the hallway trash can, and walked away.

That night, I walked into a deafeningly loud bar. I ordered several rounds of hard liquor, drinking until my vision began to blur.

During that time, a few men in expensive shirts came over to hit on me.

The thought of getting back at Sterling flashed through my mind.

But I realized I simply couldn't bring myself to do it, not even for revenge.

Just as I was about to rest my head on the bar, a man reeking of alcohol leaned in and slid a brightly colored drink in front of me.

"Drinking alone is boring. Down this, and let's find a quieter place to chat."

His voice slithered into my ear as he tipped the glass toward my lips, half-coaxing and half-forcing me, while his other hand clamped down on my wrist, yanking me outward.

I was forced to swallow a mouthful of the unknown liquor. Instantly, a violent wave of dizziness crashed over my brain.

I instinctively tried to pull away, but having drunk too much, my legs turned to jelly. I had absolutely no power to break free and was on the verge of passing out.

Suddenly, another hand reached out, forcefully knocking the drink away and gripping the creep's wrist in a vise-like hold.

"Take your hands off her." A stranger's deep, authoritative voice commanded from above.

The creep spat a curse, but upon looking up and seeing the man's imposing height and deadpan expression, he ultimately shook off the grip and scurried away into the crowd.

The second the danger passed, I lost all my strength. Before I could even mutter a word of thanks, my knees buckled, and I collapsed straight into the stranger's arms.

In my semi-conscious state, images of Sterling bringing other women home played on a loop in my mind.

Years of suppressed grievances morphed into tears. I clutched the man's crisp shirt desperately, sobbing and slurring my words, "You hypocritical liar... you selfish scum!"

A helpless, low sigh sounded above my head.

"Yeah, I'm scum."

The man didn't push me away. Instead, he played along, gently patting my back. "It's okay. You're safe now."

Wrapped in his incredibly patient and soothing voice, I completely lost consciousness.

The next morning, rays of sunlight pierced through the gap in the curtains, illuminating the room.

I woke up in a massive hotel bed. Looking down, I immediately noticed my alcohol-stained clothes were gone, replaced by a soft hotel bathrobe.

My chest tightened in panic, but just then, a soft knock came at the door.

I opened it to find a female housekeeper pushing a cart inside.

"Good morning, ma'am. Here are your clothes from last night. They've been dry-cleaned."

Seeing me freeze, she proactively explained, "The gentleman from last night instructed me to help you clean up and change. He never stepped foot inside the room himself."

Staring at the neatly folded clothes in her hands, I finally let out a long breath of relief.

After the housekeeper left, I got dressed.

There was a glass of water on the nightstand, resting on top of a business card.

I picked it up and glanced at it. It read: Leo Carter.

It was the name of the man who had saved me last night.

Beneath his name, it listed his profession: Doctor.

He hadn't just booked a room and hired someone to take care of me; he had handled everything flawlessly while remaining a perfect gentleman. He maintained absolute boundaries and hadn't touched me all night.

Looking at the card in my hand, a sudden sting hit my nose.

How nice, I thought. If only I had met someone like him from the very beginning.

A total stranger could uphold such decency, yet the man I loved couldn't.

I washed my face and took a cab home.

The moment I pushed the front door open, I saw Sterling sitting on the living room sofa.

The coffee table in front of him was piled high with cigarette butts. His face was livid, and his eyes were completely bloodshot. He had obviously been sitting there waiting all night.

Seeing me walk in wearing yesterday's clothes and smelling of stale alcohol, he stood up abruptly and strode toward me.

"Where the hell were you? You didn't pick up your phone, and you stayed out all night!"

I stood calmly in the doorway, staring at the man before me.

He spent at least three nights a week away from home, yet he somehow felt entitled to stand here and interrogate me.

In the past, whenever I questioned him, he would look down on me from his high horse, accusing me of being unreasonable and acting like a hysterical shrew.

Now that the roles were reversed, he looked far more pathetic than I ever did.

I offered no explanation. Instead, I met his furious gaze head-on.

"Isn't this the open marriage you've always pushed for? You went to find your fun, so last night, I went to find mine."