Chapter 152: Your life is in your hands

She stares at the gun resting on the table.

For several seconds, she doesn’t move. Her eyes shift from the weapon to my face, searching for something. Perhaps a sign that I’m joking. Perhaps the familiar expression she used to get whenever she wanted something from me.

Then she laughs.

It’s nervous at first, almost uncertain, before she settles into a smile.

"You’re not serious....you can’t be serious Lysander."

I take a slow sip of my whiskey.

"Do I look like I’m joking?"

She shakes her head, brushing her blonde hair over one shoulder. "Lysander, come on. What is this? Is this some kind of sick joke? It has to be."

I say nothing.

She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "We have a history. You and I. You used to call me whenever you wanted to see me. You brought me here, into your home. You can’t just pretend none of that happened."

I look at her for a moment.

She’s genuinely convinced that whatever existed between us gives her some sort of claim over me.

"You used to want me," she continues. "You don’t just stop feeling something like that overnight."

"You’re confusing sex with affection. What we had was sex, and that’s it. Nothing but sex."

Her smile falters.

I set my glass down.

"Whatever happened between us is over. It ended the moment I decided I didn’t want it anymore. There was never anything more to it."

She looks offended, as though I’ve insulted her.

"That’s not fair."

"Fair?"

I almost laugh.

"You’re sitting in front of me because you put a gun in your handbag and threatened my wife. I wouldn’t waste your time talking about fairness."

She looks away and I watch her reach for her phone. Her fingers move quickly across the screen, and I narrow my eyes.

I assume she’s texting someone for rescue.

"Texting or calling any of your little friends won’t save you right now."

She pauses, glances at me, then continues typing.

I don’t bother stopping her. If she thinks someone is coming through that door to save her, she is welcome to keep believing it.

When she finally puts the phone down, I lean back in my chair.

"Let’s talk about Nerissa."

"What about her?"

"Why did you approach my wife at the hospital?"

She scoffs.

"I didn’t do anything to her."

"Try again."

"I was only trying to talk to her. She was rude to me, and your sister got involved. That’s all."

I stare at her.

"You’re lying."

Her lips part.

"I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I never threatened anyone."

"Did you have a gun?"

"No."

The answer comes too quickly for it to be the truth.

"I’ve already received confirmation of what happened. Isabella showed me the marks on her wrist where you grabbed her and she told me about the gun."

Her face drains slightly.

"She must have misunderstood."

"Is that what you’re going with?"

"I’m telling you the truth!"

"No. You’re telling me what you think will keep you alive."

I stand, walk around the table, and stop beside the window. The city stretches beneath the glass, bright and busy, completely unaware of what is happening in this room.

I turn back to her.

"No one threatens any member of my family."

She looks down at the gun again.

For the first time since she arrived, the confidence begins to leave her face.

"Your family?" she asks bitterly. "Since when did that include her?"

I say nothing.

She lets out a sharp laugh and stands.

"Of course. Nerissa. Everything is about Nerissa now."

"Sit down."

"Do you know what your problem is, Lysander? You’ve changed. Ever since you married her, you’ve become someone else."

I watch her carefully.

"She stole you from me."

Her eyes are shining, and her hands tremble as she gestures between us.

"You used to want me around. You used to call me, ask me to come over. You brought me here. You made me feel like I mattered to you."

"You were convenient."

Her expression crumples.

"That’s not true."

"It is."

"You promised me something!"

I slowly turn my head.

"What exactly did I promise you?"

She hesitates.

"You said things would be different."

"When?"

"Before you married her."

I stare at her for a long moment, trying to remember a conversation that apparently meant so much to her.

I remember the nights. The occasional calls. The arrangements that were always understood by both parties.

I don’t remember promising her a future, infact i remember making it very clear that this was nothing but an arrangement. She agreed to it, no strings attached.

"Let me make something clear," I say, moving closer. "I never promised you marriage, I never promised you a future. And I certainly never promised you exclusivity."

She shakes her head.

"You can’t say that."

"I just did."

"You made me believe....."

"I didn’t make you believe shit. You knew exactly what this was. I didn’t trick you."

Her eyes fill with tears, but I feel nothing.

Whatever arrangement we had was physical. She knew it, I knew it, and there was never any discussion about becoming anything more.

"You’re making me look like some cheap whore," she whispers.

"You’re making yourself look like a cheap whore who couldn’t accept that a man stopped calling her."

She flinches.

I return to the table and pick up my whiskey, taking another drink.

"Instead.....you decided to approach my wife, put your hands on her sister, and pulled a gun on them."

"I was angry!"

"And that makes it acceptable?"

"I didn’t intend to shoot anyone."

"You brought a gun."

She looks away.

I place my glass down.

"Make your fucking choice. Your life is in your hands."

Her eyes return to mine.

"You sealed your fate when put your hands on my sister. You should consider me generous for offering you this opportunity."

She looks at the gun, then at me.

I wait.

For once, the decision is entirely hers.