Chapter 5- THE IMPOSTOR'S RECKONING

Where is Lia?” He asked again. His voice cut through the room like something sharp. I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know where to start.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, running a hand through his hair. The calm from last night was gone. What stood in front of me now was clear, alert and angry.

“I asked you a question,” he said.

“I’m… not Lia,” I stammered.

“I can see that.” The words came out cold. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning my face like he was trying to find something familiar and failing. “Then why are you here?” he demanded. “Why are you in my house and on my bed?”

My throat tightened. “Because they sent me,” I said.

“Who?”

“My family.”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t play games with me. I was supposed to marry Lia.”

“I know.”

“Then explain this.”

I swallowed. “They said she was too fragile. They said I should take her place.”

A short, humorless laugh left him. “So you agreed?”

“No.” I answered. It made him pause. “I didn’t have a choice,” I added. His eyes darkened. “Everyone has a choice.”

“Not when the alternative is losing everything.”

“And that makes this okay?” he snapped. “You walk into a marriage that isn’t yours and expect me to accept it?”

“I didn’t expect anything.”

“That’s a lie.”

I shook my head. “It’s not.” He turned away, pacing the room like he was trying to control himself. “You think this is a joke?” he said after a moment. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then say it.” He demanded. I meet his eyes. “I married you under false pretenses.”

“Exactly.”

I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t expect anything anymore. He let out a slow breath, then walked toward the door. “Get dressed,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

The staff moved around quietly, but I could feel their eyes on me. Curious. Judging. Word had already spread. Of course it had. He didn’t slow down as we walked. I had to keep up, my steps uneven. We stopped in front of a large door. He pushed it open without knocking. Inside, three people turned to look at us.

His parents and someone else I didn’t expect.

My sister. Lia sat on the couch, her eyes red, her face pale. She looked… fragile. Like she had been crying for hours. My chest tightened. She looked at me, and for a second, something flickered in her eyes. Then it disappeared. “She’s here,” he said flatly.

All eyes shifted to me. His mother was the first to speak. “So this is her,” she said, her voice calm but cold. Her gaze moved over me slowly, like she was measuring my worth and finding none. “Explain,” his father said.

Not to me but to him. “She’s not Lia, father,” he replied. “They sent her instead.” A heavy silence filled the room. Then my sister let out a soft sob. “I told you,” she said, her voice shaking. “I told you something was wrong.”

I turned to her. “Lia?”

“Don’t,” she whispered, pulling back like I had hurt her. “Please don’t.”

Confusion hit me. “What are you doing?” I asked. She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I trusted you.”

“She locked me in,” Lia said suddenly.

The words froze me. “What?”

“I couldn’t get out,” she continued, her voice breaking. “I tried to call, but my phone was gone. By the time I escaped, it was too late.”

My heart dropped. “That’s not true.”

“She wanted this,” Lia said, looking at them, not me. “She always did.”

“No,” I said quickly. “That’s not what happened.” His mother’s eyes narrowed. “Are you calling her a liar?”

“Yes.” The word came out before I could stop it. The room went still. “She’s lying,” I repeated, my voice steadier now. “I didn’t lock her anywhere. I tried to leave the wedding but they stopped me.”

“Who are ‘they’?” his father asked.

“My parents.”

“So now you’re blaming your family?”

“I’m telling the truth.” I said sharply. Lia let out another sob, covering her face. “Why would you do this to me?”

“I didn’t do anything to you.”

“You took everything,” she whispered.

“I didn’t take anything,” I said, my voice rising. “You gave it away.”

“That’s enough,” his mother cut in sharply. She stood up, walking toward me. “You expect us to believe you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Over her?”

I hesitated. That was all it took. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You must think we’re fools.”

“I don’t,” I said. “But I know what happened.” His father spoke next. “We have evidence.”

I turned to him. “What evidence?” He picked up a tablet from the table and tapped the screen. Then he turned it toward me. It was a video. Grainy, but clear enough.

Lia. In a room. Pacing around, crying and trying the door. My breath caught. “I was locked in the basement,” she said softly. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“That’s not—” I stopped. Because I didn’t know how to fight something like that. It looked real. Too real. “I didn’t do that,” I said, but my voice sounded weak now. “No one forced you to stand at that altar,” his father said. “No one forced you to take her place,” his mother added.

“I told you,” I said. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he said.

The same words. Different voices, same meaning. “You chose this,” the man I married said. I looked at him. “You really believe that?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Fine,” I said softly. He frowned. “What?”

“Believe whatever you want.”

“Don’t act like the victim now.” he said to me. “I’m not acting,” I replied. “Then what are you doing?”

“I–”

“This marriage cannot continue like this.” his mother cut me off. Relief flickered through me. “Yes,” I said. “Then end it.”

But he shook his head. “No.”

The word surprised everyone. His father looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t annul it,” he said. “Why not?” his mother asked.

“Because it will cause more problems than it solves, half of my wealth and our family dignity in the society” I frowned. “What are you saying?”

He turned to me. His expression was calm again. Too calm.

“We stay married.”

The words felt unreal. “For now,” he added. “Until things settle.”

“And then?”

“Then we divorce. Quietly.” My chest tightened. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” he said. “For both families.”

“And what about me?” He didn’t answer immediately.

“You live under my roof, like you’re not there.”

Silence filled the room. No one argued or defended me. Not even a little. I nodded once.

Because at that moment… I understood something clearly. I wasn’t just unwanted. I was about to be made invisible in my husband's house.

He didn’t speak to me again in front of them. He simply gripped my wrist and pulled me out of the room. His hold was tight enough to bruise. I didn’t resist. The hallway blurred as he walked fast, practically dragging me back toward the bedroom.

The door slammed shut behind us.

Before I could say anything, he shoved me against the wall. His body pressed hard into mine, all heat and restrained fury.

“You think you can just take her place and that’s it?” he growled low in my ear. His breath was hot against my neck. “You’re going to learn exactly what you signed up for.”

His hands were rough. He didn’t bother with the zipper of my dress, he yanked the fabric down hard until it tore at the shoulder. Cool air hit my skin as he shoved the dress to my waist, exposing my breasts. His mouth latched onto my neck, sucking and biting hard enough to mark me, while one hand roughly kneaded my breast, pinching the nipple until I gasped.

He didn’t kiss me. Not once.

He spun me around, pressing my chest against the wall. I heard his belt buckle open, the zipper of his pants. No warning, he shoved my dress up over my hips, ripped my panties aside, and thrust into me in one brutal stroke.

I cried out, gripping the wall for balance. He was thick and angry, stretching me painfully at first. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He fucked me hard, deep, punishing strokes that slammed me against the wall with every thrust.

“Fuck,” he grunted, one hand fisting my hair, the other digging into my hip hard enough to leave fingerprints. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be my wife?”

Every word was punctuated by a savage thrust. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. He was relentless, using my body like an outlet for all the rage and disappointment. No sweet words. No “Lia.” Just raw, animalistic grunts and the occasional low curse as he drove deeper.

My body betrayed me, heat pooled low despite the roughness, my walls clenching around him as unwanted pleasure mixed with the sting. He reached around and rubbed my clit roughly, almost meanly, forcing my body toward the edge whether I wanted it or not.

When I came, it was sharp and humiliating, a broken moan escaping my lips. He followed right after with a deep groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside me, hips jerking with each pulse.

For a few seconds he stayed pressed against my back, breathing heavy. Then he pulled out abruptly, leaving me dripping and shaky against the wall.

He zipped himself up without looking at me.

“Clean yourself up,” he said coldly. “And stay out of my way.” then he left the room.