All Chapters of BENEATH THE LIES : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

021Clark’s words were a punch to the gut—an agonizing, paralyzing blow that left me gasping. My legs felt weak, and my grip on the cold metal bars tightened until my knuckles turned white. I stared at him, disbelief and desperation twisting inside me. He was the one person I thought I could count on, and now he was leaving me to rot.“No,” I choked out, my voice breaking. The lump in my throat felt like it was choking me. “You can’t just walk away. You can’t leave me here!”Clark’s eyes met mine, regret flickering across his face before he forced a mask of resolve. “Ryan, my hands are tied. This is above me now, I can only help you get a lawyer.”“That’s not good enough!” I shouted, panic creeping into my voice. “What if the lawyer doesn’t defend me well? What if he’s paid off or doesn’t care? I’ll be screwed!”Clark sighed heavily, running a frustrated hand through his hair. The deep lines etched into his face made him look older than usual, and for a moment, he seemed as tired as I

024I stared at her, my chest aching with anger and regret. Words tangled in my throat, refusing to come out. Without a second glance, I turned and walked away.The hallways felt narrower as I stormed back to my room. Lost in thought, I collided with Charles. I was too furious to speak, my expression hardening. I tried to brush past him, but he grabbed my hand.“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said, eyes earnest. “I know my sister said some harsh things. Don’t listen to her—she’s just jealous you’re prettier than she’ll ever be.”I didn’t smile. “Thank you,” I muttered. “But I have to go.”He released my hand reluctantly. I could see the disappointment in his eyes, but I ignored it. I couldn’t afford to get closer to him, not when he was starting to make advances. If I let him think I felt the same, it would only make things worse.I didn’t look back. My footsteps echoed in the silence until I reached my room.STANLEY’S POVI sank into the couch, trying to bury the anxious knot in my chest. The b

026 My mouth dried up as Mrs. Richardson’s gaze locked onto me. Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across her features. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, her tone laced with confusion. A nervous laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. “Oh, Mrs. Richardson, I didn’t mean it that way!” I hurriedly waved a dismissive hand. “It’s just...Stanley loves teasing me. He always calls me his ‘maid’ to remind me of how clumsy I was when we first met.” I nudged Stanley with my elbow, forcing a strained grin. “Right, darling?” Stanley caught on quickly, letting out a low chuckle. “Yes, she almost ruined my shirt at our first meeting. Called her my personal maid ever since.” Mrs. Richardson’s face relaxed, a warm smile stretching across her lips. “Oh, you two are adorable,” she cooed. Relief washed over me, though Stanley’s grip on my waist tightened, a silent warning. “I need to grab something from my room,” I announced, offering a quick smile. “Won’t be long.” Mrs. Richard

028Stanley, please just listen to me!" I begged, my voice trembling with desperation. But he didn’t listen."Don’t you listen, Chloe?" he snapped. "I said I don’t want to hear anything from you. Just get out!" His voice thundered through the room, sharp and final.Tears welled in my eyes, burning hot as they spilled down my cheeks. My chest tightened, my heart shattering into a million irreparable pieces. I stood there for a moment, hoping—praying—that he would soften, that he would take it back. But he didn’t. He turned his back on me as if I were nothing.Biting back a sob, I spun on my heels and ran. My feet barely touched the ground as I bolted from his room, my vision blurred by the flood of tears. The walls of the mansion felt suffocating, closing in on me as I hurriedly made my way to my room.As soon as I stepped inside, I collapsed onto the cold, hard floor, my body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. My hands clawed at the fabric of my dress, my breath coming in sharp, ragged

030 [Alora’s POV] I was in my room, sitting peacefully on my bed as I drafted new chapters for my ongoing book. The word count read 20,000, and I couldn't help but sigh. I hadn’t had the time to write properly lately—all thanks to the drama playing out in this house like a never-ending soap opera. But right now? This was my only chance to make progress, and there was no way I’d let it slip. Just when I clicked back into the zone, a knock came at the door. I groaned out loud. “Who could it be now?” Reluctantly, I slid off the bed, padded to the door, and twisted the handle. Before I could even speak, the person outside strode in like he owned the place. Stanley. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, that usual bossy, smug expression plastered across his face like a permanent tattoo. I shut the door behind him with a small thud. He was already seated on my bed, legs crossed, back straight like he was posing for a magazine cover. “Get ready,” he said without preamble. “