Beneath His Lies

04 The Replacement

Cherry’s POV

“Oh my! Get up—why are you on the ground?”

My head jerks up at the sudden concern in her voice. Ma’am Victoria—of all people—walks toward me, her heels clicking softly against the marble. She ignores the lady by the side and kneels, gathering me up as if I’m made of glass. My eyes widen in disbelief as she brushes shards off my arm, dusting me gently.

No. I don’t understand. I truly don’t. Has she bumped her head somewhere? This is the same woman who’s made my life unbearable—who has never, not once, treated me this way before. So why now? Why is she handling me like I matter?

“Carrie! Don’t you know who she is?” she snaps suddenly, her voice sharp—but not at me. Her glare slices toward the woman standing nearby, lips slightly curled in amusement. “This is Anthony’s wife! How could you do this?”

The name slams into me—Carrie. My heart stutters as I glance toward the elegantly dressed lady, her glass still swaying.

Before I can blink, Ma’am Victoria is ushering me toward a chair. “Sit down, girl.” Her hand grazes through my hair softly, almost tender. It feels unreal—like I’ve slipped into a dream I can’t trust.

“Granny Mae, get her a glass of juice,” she orders, her voice suddenly sweet.

I sit frozen, trembling, her touch still lingering on my scalp. And I can’t help it—the thought presses sharp in my chest: has she truly lost her mind, or am I the one losing mine?

*****

Sunlight slips through the curtains, too bright for my aching head. A low groan escapes me as I press a hand to my temple. My body feels heavy, sluggish, every muscle screaming. My tongue is dry as paper, my stomach rolling with nausea.

I shift slowly—then freeze.

A man’s hand rests on mine. Warm. Heavy.

My chest caves in with panic. I shove his hand away with a violent jerk, my breath catching. My eyes dart around the room—and then I see him. He’s lying beside me. Naked.

My whole body locks. A scream rips out before I can stop it. I clutch the sheets to my chest, heart pounding so hard I can barely think. My voice breaks into a ragged cry as I yank the fabric higher, desperate to shield myself. My skin is bare. Only my inner wears remain.

“This can’t be happening!” I choke out, tears spilling as I drag my clothes toward me, trembling, desperate to cover myself—to undo whatever this is.

I shake him violently, sobs tearing from my throat. “Wake up! Please—wake up!”

The door slams open.

I freeze, heart lurching to my throat as Ma’am Victoria and Carrie rush in, their faces blanching at the sight before them. Gasps break through the room. My hands tremble as I shake my head over and over, as if the desperate motion could make them wait—could make them let me explain.

Then Granny Mae steps in, her face unreadable.

“You… this girl!” Ma’am Victoria’s voice explodes. She storms forward, rage burning in her eyes. “This man—in this house—and in you and Anthony’s bedroom?”

She seizes him, striking him as he fumbles for his clothes and stumbles out. Then she turns on me, gripping my arm like iron.

“Get up!” she hisses, dragging me. My clothes cling to me but barely cover anything. Her nails dig into my skin as she pulls me down the stairs.

“You poor thing—I always knew you were after his money!” Ma’am Victoria’s words cut like glass as she shoves me hard to the ground.

My knee scrapes against the cold tiles, a sting bursting through my leg. My hair falls over my face, hiding me in a curtain of shame just as her voice lashes again.

“Is this what you do every time you get the chance?”

I press my trembling palms to the floor, heart pounding, throat tight. “Please,” I cry, my voice cracking. “Believe me, I know nothing about that man. I don’t even know what happened. Please… believe me.”

“Believe you?” Her eyes blaze as her fingers clamp my jaw, forcing me to meet her stare. “A young lady who worked at a bar? Who served men drinks night after night? Only God knows if you didn’t sell yourself to them too.”

Her words cut deep. She releases me, my head snapping sideways. Tears blur my sight until all I see is pain—raw and endless.

Her smile is cold, almost pitying. She steps closer, her eyes raking over me with that familiar, cutting gaze.

“Look at her,” she sneers, gesturing toward Carrie. “She’s everything you’re not.”

Her gaze returns to me, sharp as a blade. “And you? You’re nothing—just someone trying to leech off my son.”

I shrink under her words, heat flooding my cheeks, my chest tightening. Her scorn burns through me, leaving me small and shaking.

She gestures toward Carrie again, her tone dripping with venom. “You must be wondering who she is, right? Well, let me help you.” Her lips curl into a cruel smile. “She’s Anthony’s fiancée, Carrie Hudson. Heiress of the Hudson empire… and your replacement.”

My head snaps up. My heart pounds so hard it hurts. Replacement. The word slams into me like a stone to the chest.

Ma’am Victoria keeps going. “Yes,” she says, leaning closer, her perfume suffocating. “She’s the one meant to stand by Anthony’s side, not someone like you.”

The air leaves my lungs. I just stand there, frozen, my mind refusing to accept what I’m hearing. Fiancée?

Then it hits me. Her sudden appearance right after Anthony left for his business trip. The way she moves through the mansion like she owns it. The way she stared at me that first day—like she already knew.

And all this time, I thought she was just another visitor, another name to memorize. But no. She’s been here for a reason.

She’s his fiancée.

My stomach twists painfully. Every touch, every promise, every word Anthony ever said now feels like a lie—a cruel, beautifully wrapped lie.

And I—

I’m the fool standing in the middle of their story, loving a man who already belongs to someone else.

No. No, this can’t be real. My mind spins, grasping for air, for sense, for anything solid. Every word feels like a blade twisting deeper.

I drag the back of my hand across my wet cheeks, forcing my trembling fingers to work as I fumble for my phone. If Anthony hears me—if he just listens—he’ll believe me. He has to. He should explain this, because I don’t understand.

But just as my fingers brush the phone, a sharp weight crushes down on my hand. Pain shoots up my wrist as a strangled groan bursts from my lips. Carrie’s heel pins the device beneath it.

“Not so fast,” she purrs, lips curling into a slow, mocking smile—the kind that thrives on someone else’s ruin.

The phone slides uselessly beneath her weight.

Her heel grinds down with a sharp click, sealing the silence between us.

I can’t breathe.

My eyes lift to hers—and for the first time, I see it clearly.

The satisfaction.

The claim.

The warning.