Chapter 4- THE TRUTH HE WOKE UP TO

He smiled. Soft. Warm. Almost boyish. “There you are,” he murmured. My heart dropped.

Because even now… He still thought I was Lia.

He stepped in, jacket already off, shirt partially unbuttoned, the scent of whiskey and cologne clinging to him. His movements were unstable from drinking, but there was nothing weak about the way he looked at me. He closed the door behind him with a soft click and locked it.

“Lia,” he said, squinting his eyes looking at me, voice low and rough.

My stomach twisted violently at the name. He thought I was Lia, I tried talking him out of it that it was all a plan, I wasn't Lia.

But he crossed the room in a few strides and pulled me up from the edge of the bed. His hands were large and warm as they slid around my waist, tugging the robe open with impatient fingers. The cool air hit my skin as the silk slipped off my shoulders and pooled at my feet, leaving me naked before him.

He didn’t bother with tenderness.

He was about to kiss me when I dodge and his mouth found my neck, hot and demanding. Slowly, he reached for my breast and kissed it, I didn't even know I was already having a hard nipple on me already. He folded one with his hands while reaching for the other with his mouth. Sucking them like a baby. His teeth grazed my skin as he backed me toward the bed. I gasped when the backs of my knees hit the mattress and I fell back. He followed immediately, covering me with his body. His weight pressed me down into the soft sheets.

“Look at me,” he murmured against my throat.

I did. His eyes were dark, glazed with alcohol and lust. He didn’t really see me. He was seeing her instead.

He kissed me hard, tongue pushing past my lips as his hand slid between my thighs. I was already shamefully wet, my body betraying me even as my mind didn't want this. Two thick fingers stroked through my folds, circling my clit before sliding inside me without warning. I arched with a choked sound.

“So wet already,” he groaned. “Good girl, Lia.”

The name hit like a slap.

He pumped his fingers slowly at first, then faster, curling them against that spot that made my toes curl and my breath stutter. Pleasure coiled tight and unwanted in my belly. I bit my lip hard, trying not to moan, but a broken whimper escaped anyway, he was too fast.

He pulled his fingers out and I heard the sound of his belt and zipper. Then the heavy, blunt head of his cock was nudging against my entrance, hot and insistent. He was rubbing it around him to get him all silky and wet for smooth penetration.

He pushed in with one slow, relentless thrust.

I cried out, hands flying to his shoulders as he stretched me open. He was thick, long, and he didn’t give me time to adjust. He started moving immediately, deep, steady strokes that made the bed creak beneath us.

“Fuck… Lia,” he growled, burying his face in my neck as he fucked me harder. “You taste just how beautiful you look.”

Every time he said her name, something inside me cracked wider open.

He hooked one of my legs over his hip, changing the angle so he drove even deeper. The wet, obscene sound of his cock sliding in and out of me filled the room. Pleasure surged through me in waves, sharp and humiliating. My hips started moving against my will, meeting his thrusts, chasing that building heat even as tears pricked at my eyes.

“Lia… fuck, just like that,” he panted, slamming into me. His pace turned punishing, hips snapping forward relentlessly. “Take it. Take all of it.”

I didn’t know whether to cry or moan. The humiliation I feel whenever he calls out my sister's name instead of mine, or the pleasure I feel, having his dick slamming into my pussy.

Every brutal thrust sent sparks of unwanted ecstasy through my body. My walls clenched around him involuntarily, drawing a deep groan from his chest. He reached between us and rubbed my swollen clit with his thumb, fast and firm.

I shattered.

A broken cry tore from my throat as my orgasm crashed over me, intense, devastating, and all wrong. My back arched off the bed, thighs trembling as I came hard around his cock, pulsing and fluttering.

He didn’t stop.

He fucked me through it, harder, chasing his own release while still murmuring her name like a prayer against my skin.

“Lia…fuck… my Lia…”

Tears slipped down the sides of my face even as another smaller wave of pleasure rippled through me. I felt dirty. Used. And yet my body kept responding, greedy and aching.

With a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came, hips jerking as he spilled deep inside me. His cock throbbed with every pulse, filling me with wet heat.

For a few long moments, the only sounds were our ragged breathing.

He stayed inside me, heavy and warm, his face still buried in my neck.

“Lia…” he whispered one last time, voice softening with exhaustion and satisfaction.

I turned my face away, staring at the wall as silent tears continued to fall.

He had no idea who he just had sex with.

And I didn’t know how to feel anything anymore, except the sticky warmth of his cum leaking out of me, and the devastating ache of hearing the wrong name on his lips while my body still trembled from the pleasure he forced on me.

Morning came quietly. I was already awake. He wasn’t. The room felt different in daylight. Too clear. Too real. I sat up slowly, pulling the sheets around me. For a moment, I just watched him.

This man. The one who thought he married my sister. The one who never even noticed me. He stirred. Then his eyes opened. It took him a second. Then two.

And then, his expression changed. Confusion.Sharp. Immediate. He sat up quickly, looking at me properly for the first time.

“Wait.” His voice was rough.

His eyes scanned my face, searching.

“This isn’t…” He stopped. I said nothing. His jaw tightened.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

The question hung in the air. Heavy. I held his gaze. And for the first time, he saw me. Not like her, but as someone who broke into the house in the morning. Silence filled the room.

Then he spoke again. Low. Controlled.

“Where is Lia?”