Chapter 92: You will not disrespect me like that!.

Nerissa’s POV

I wake up with a plan.....a proper plan.

Today, I intend to have a serious conversation with Lysander about my future in this house...

More specifically, my career.

I want to be a skincare influencer.

There. I’ve said it.

I’ve always loved skincare. There is something incredibly soothing about the entire process, from cleansing my face to applying serums and moisturizers. I love learning about ingredients, understanding what works for different skin types, and watching someone’s skin improve with the right routine.

For me, skincare has never been just about looking pretty.

It’s my little ritual. My moment of peace.

No family drama, no mafia politics, no men with superiority complexes telling me what to do.

Just me, my products, and the satisfying feeling of taking care of myself.

And honestly, what could be better than turning something you genuinely love into a career?

I can already picture it. Recording videos, sharing routines, reviewing products, and building a community of people who enjoy skincare as much as I do.

Perhaps I’ll even create my own skincare line someday.

The thought makes me smile as I climb out of bed.

Of course, I know becoming an influencer isn’t as simple as buying a ring light and talking to a camera. It requires consistency, creativity, research, and a good understanding of the business side of things.

Fortunately, I have a brain. A rather excellent one, if I do say so myself and I’m willing to work.

The only problem is getting Lysander to take me seriously.

The other day he agreed to consider my request to work in Spain. Today, I’m determined to turn that vague promise into an actual thing.

I shower, complete my skincare routine, and dress in a simple outfit before heading downstairs.

The smell of freshly prepared breakfast greets me as I enter the dining room.

Linda looks up from arranging the dishes.

"Good morning, child."

"Good morning, Linda."

She smiles. "Ye look cheerful this morning."

"That’s because I’m about to become a very successful woman."

Her eyebrows rise.

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely. Give me a few months, and I’ll be too famous to eat breakfast in peace."

She chuckles as she places a plate on the table.

"Then I suppose I’d better enjoy serving ye while I still can."

I laugh and sit down. Unfortunately, my good mood takes a hit when I realize the chair opposite me is empty.

Lysander’s chair.

I glance toward the entrance, half expecting him to walk in with his usual irritating expression and make some unnecessary comment about my appearance.

Nothing.

I wait a little longer, stilll nothing.

I begin eating, trying not to let my disappointment show.

It’s ridiculous, really. Why should I care whether he joins me for breakfast? It’s not as though we have a loving marriage where we sit together every morning and discuss our dreams over coffee.

We barely even agree on what constitutes a reasonable conversation.

Still, I wanted to talk to him before he became occupied with whatever dangerous, morally questionable business men like him conduct throughout the day.

Apparently, that was too much to ask.

I swallow another bite and turn to Linda.

"Where’s Lysander?"

"Rhe Don is in his office, child."

"His office?"

She nods. "He went there early this morning. He said he wasn’t to be disturbed."

I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth.

Not to be disturbed?

I stare at her, thn I slowly put my fork down.

"Oh did he now?"

"Yes, child."

I smile...it isn’t a particularly pleasant smile.

"Thank you, Linda."

She gives me a curious look as I rise from my chair.

"Are ye finished with yer breakfast?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Where are ye going?"

"To disturb someone."

Before she can ask another question, I leave the dining room.

Yeah, fuck that.

I’m not about to let my husband’s ridiculous instructions prevent me from discussing my future. If he can interrupt my conversations whenever he pleases, then surely I can interrupt his.

Marriage is about compromise, after all.

And if Lysander doesn’t like it, he can take it up with the nearest wall.

I climb the stairs and make my way toward his office, my determination growing with every step.

When I reach the door, I don’t bother knocking. I turn the handle and push it open.

"Lysander, we need to talk about my....."

The words die in my throat as for a moment, I genuinely forget how to breathe.

Lysander is seated behind his desk, looking perfectly comfortable, with a woman positioned between his open knees.

A woman whose face I recognize immediately.

My stomach twists.

Because this isn’t just some random bimbo who has wandered into my husband’s office.

It’s the same damn bitch from the bathroom at the minister’s birthday party yesterday.

The one who couldn’t stop talking about my husband’s dick....,and apparently, she’s decided she wants a more personal conversation with him.

His dick is out, his hands are fisted in her hair, and judging by the way he grips it, that has to be painful.

And her mouth?

Her mouth is wrapped around his dick.

I stare at them.

My brain seems to have abandoned me because I genuinely cannot process what I’m looking at.

What in the actual fuck?

I see red. Or maybe grey. I don’t know. I’m so fucking pissed that I can’t even decide what colour best describes the murderous rage currently bubbling inside me.

Is this a fuckin joke?

Did I somehow walk into the wrong office?

Perhaps I’ve suffered a sudden head injury and this is all some elaborate hallucination.

Because surely, surely, my husband isn’t sitting behind his desk with his dick in another woman’s mouth while I’m standing in the doorway with both of them looking at me like an unwanted visitor.

The stupid fuckung bitch has the audacity to continue bobbing her head up and down as though I haven’t just barged in on them.

As though I don’t exist, as though I’m some insignificant little obstacle she can ignore until she’s finished enjoying herself.

Oh, absolutely fucking not.

I’ll kill her....I’ll freaking kill her. Both of them. I kill them both and bury them in the garden, then plant pretty flowers over them.

"Get the fuck out."

My voice cuts through the room.

Lysander’s head snaps up, his eyes meet mine, and for one brief second, something flashes across his face.

Before I can dispher what ever it is, it’s gone.

The woman, however, doesn’t seem particularly interested in my presence. She turns her eyes toward me, gives me a dismissive look, and continues what she’s doing.

I swear something inside my head snaps.

Did this bitch just ignore me? In my husband’s office? While her mouth is still wrapped around his cock?

I look around for something to throw at her, preferably something heavy enough to knock some sense into that empty little head of hers.

Then I see it, a gun on Lysander’s desk.

I don’t think.

I simply reach for it.

The moment my fingers close around the weapon, the woman finally stops.

She lifts her head, releasing Lysander’s cock with a small popping sound that makes my stomach turn.

Then she rises to her feet.

She’s naked from the waist up, her breasts completely exposed, but if she’s embarrassed about flashing me, she doesn’t show it.

Instead, she looks at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated arrogance.

"Can you even use that?"

I tighten my grip on the gun.

She glances at it, then back at me, and laughs.

Actually laughs.

"It’s not my fault you can’t satisfy your husband," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I told you. Only I can that’s why he came to me."

For a moment, I simply stare at her, then I look at Lysander.

He’s watching me.

Not her.

Me.

And somehow, that only makes me angrier.

I raise the gun and fire a shot into the air.

The deafening bang tears through the office.

The woman screams and stumbles backward, finally losing that smug expression.

I lower the weapon and point it directly at her.

"That was just a test."

My voice is frighteningly calm now. I can hear my own heartbeat, and feel the tremor of rage running through my my arms, but I refuse to let her see an ounce of hesitation.

"I wouldn’t miss the next shot."

Her face drains of colour when i take a step towards her.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out."

The bitch scrambles out of the office, leaving me alone with my husband.

I turn the gun on Lysander, watching as he rises and calmly tucks his dick back into his jeans.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" he demands. "I needed that release."

I stare at him in total disbelief.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I snap. "You do not bring one of your prostitutes into this house! I will not have you humiliating or disrespecting me like that! Never!."