Beneath His Lies

Chapter 3

The call ended, leaving only static and Clara’s pulse pounding in her ears. The voice—low, strained, alive—still echoed through her mind. Don’t trust the man who wears my name.

Rain hissed against the pavement, drowning out the city. Her fingers trembled as she lowered the phone, staring at her own reflection in the glass window beside her. It didn’t look like her anymore. She looked like someone in a story she didn’t understand.

Her instincts screamed to run, but curiosity—the same dangerous flame that had carried her this far—kept her frozen. If Lucien Drake was alive… what did that make Liam?

She forced herself to breathe. “You’re tired,” she whispered, trying to convince herself. “You imagined it. Someone’s playing with you.”

But when she checked her phone again, the call history showed nothing. No record. No number.

Someone had wiped it—again.

---

By the time she reached Drake Tower the next morning, exhaustion clung to her like smoke. Security waved her through without a word, and yet she could feel the difference—the weight of eyes following her every step.

The elevator doors closed around her, smooth steel reflecting her anxiety. As the floor numbers climbed, she caught her breath and steadied her expression. She had to act normal. Normal meant survival.

When the doors opened to the executive floor, Liam was already there. No pretense of charm today. His suit was dark, his expression darker.

“Inside,” he said simply.

She obeyed. The moment the door clicked shut, he rounded the desk and placed a phone on the glass surface.

“Your call history,” he said. “Encrypted, rerouted through a private server.”

Her heart skipped. “You’re monitoring my phone?”

“I’m protecting this company.” His voice was calm, but the quiet fury beneath it was palpable. “Last night someone accessed restricted archives again. And right after that—your phone connects to an untraceable line.”

“I didn’t—”

He held up a hand. “I know. You were being watched.”

The words should have comforted her. Instead, they chilled her.

He leaned forward slightly. “Tell me exactly what you heard.”

She hesitated, then told him: the voice, the warning, the words that could burn everything down.

When she finished, Liam didn’t move. His jaw tightened, eyes storm-dark.

“You think it was Lucien,” he said finally.

“I don’t know what to think.”

“You do,” he said quietly. “You just don’t want to say it.”

Her silence was answer enough.

He straightened, turning to the window where the skyline burned in cold morning light. “Lucien died three years ago in that crash. I watched the wreckage myself.”

“Then why erase the files?” she demanded. “Why hide the reports? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

His eyes met hers, sharp as glass. “Because the truth doesn’t always set people free, Ms. Reed. Sometimes it destroys them.”

The words hung between them—dangerous, intimate, unfinished.

She should have walked away then, but the question slipped out before she could stop it. “And what about you? Are you trying to protect me… or control me?”

His gaze flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Maybe both.”

Something inside her shifted—fear, anger, something else she refused to name.

Before she could speak again, his assistant burst through the door. “Sir—there’s been a breach in the lower labs.”

Liam’s composure cracked for a split second. “Seal the floor. No one leaves until I say so.”

He turned to Clara. “You’re coming with me.”

---

The lower levels of Drake Tower felt nothing like the gleaming offices above. The walls were concrete, the air sharp with cold metal and disinfectant.

Security guards swarmed the corridor as Liam led her through a maze of locked doors. Finally, they reached a lab filled with shattered glass and overturned equipment. A single monitor flickered on the floor, its screen displaying two words before it died:

HELLO, LIAM.

Clara’s stomach turned.

Liam knelt by the console, jaw rigid. “Whoever did this bypassed every firewall. They knew the internal codes.”

“You think it’s your brother.”

He didn’t answer.

“What was this lab for?” she asked.

He hesitated. “Experimental tech. Private research. Off the books.”

“Lucien’s project.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face—quick, but there. “How do you know that?”

“Because his name was on one of the deleted files.”

Liam rose, closing the distance between them. “You’re walking a dangerous line, Clara.”

“So are you,” she whispered.

They stood inches apart, silence thick between them. The hum of security alarms faded beneath the pulse pounding in her ears.

For a fleeting second, the world outside ceased to exist. Just his gaze, steady and unguarded for once.

Then the lights flickered. The building went dark.

---

Emergency lights snapped on, bathing everything in red. A voice came through the intercom—distorted, mocking.

“Liam. Still chasing ghosts?”

Clara froze. That voice. The same tone, the same rhythm. The same man who’d called her.

Liam looked up, fury breaking through his mask. “Lucien?”

The laugh that followed wasn’t quite human. “You shouldn’t have buried the truth, brother. You buried yourself instead.”

Then the line went dead.

Liam’s knuckles slammed against the console, sending a spiderweb of cracks across the glass. “Cut the power. Find him.”

“Find who?” Clara demanded.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the lab, striding fast through the crimson corridors.

“Liam—slow down—what’s happening?”

“Someone wants to dismantle everything we’ve built. And you’re in the middle of it.”

They reached the elevator. The doors closed—and suddenly, with a soft ping, the lights inside flickered again. The floor beneath them shuddered.

The elevator halted between floors.

Clara’s pulse spiked. “That’s not normal, is it?”

“No,” Liam said grimly. He pried open the panel, revealing sparking wires. “The system’s been tampered with.”

“By who?”

Before he could reply, her phone buzzed again. Unknown Number.

She stared at it, throat dry. “Don’t answer,” Liam ordered.

But she did.

Static, then that same low voice. “You’re trapped, Clara. But not by me. Get out while you can.”

The line cut. The elevator dropped an inch—then stopped.

Liam cursed under his breath. “Hold on.”

He forced the emergency latch open and climbed up, offering her his hand. “Come on.”

She hesitated. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because if I wanted you gone, I’d have let the elevator fall.”

It wasn’t reassurance, but it was enough. She took his hand. His grip was firm, grounding.

They climbed into the maintenance shaft, the city’s heartbeat echoing through the steel.

When they finally reached an upper landing, Clara collapsed against the wall, shaking. “This is insane,” she muttered. “Someone’s playing with both of us.”

Liam looked at her—really looked at her. “No. Someone’s hunting us.”

---

They emerged into his private office again, lights dim, city sprawling beneath them. He locked the doors, then turned to her.

“You need to tell me everything you know,” he said quietly.

“I already have.”

“Then tell me what you’re not saying.”

She swallowed hard. “Whoever called me—he sounded like you. Not just similar. Identical.”

Liam’s expression didn’t change, but the color drained from his face.

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” she challenged. “What if Lucien didn’t die? What if he’s been here all along—inside your system, your company—watching you?”

He stepped back, shaking his head slowly. “No. I saw the wreckage. I buried him.”

“Then who’s calling me?”

The silence between them was electric, the kind that felt like standing on the edge of a storm.

Finally, Liam spoke, voice raw. “If he’s alive… then everything I’ve done—everything I’ve built—is a lie.”

Clara’s gaze softened. “Maybe it’s not about what you’ve built. Maybe it’s about what you’re hiding.”

He met her eyes then—no mask, no armor. Just a man standing in the ruins of certainty.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to expose him… or save him.

---

A soft chime broke the moment. Her tablet lit up on the desk. A new message blinked across the screen:

I’m not your enemy, Clara. He is. – L

Her breath caught.

Liam crossed the room, reading over her shoulder. His voice was barely audible. “That’s not my message.”

The screen flickered again. Meet me tonight. Midnight. The place where it all began.

Below it, an image appeared—grainy but unmistakable. The memorial bridge where Lucien Drake’s plane had gone down.

Liam exhaled sharply. “You’re not going.”

“You can’t stop me.”

His jaw clenched. “Watch me.”

“Then come with me,” she said quietly.

Their eyes locked—an unspoken war between them.

Finally, he nodded once. “Fine. But if this is a trap…”

“Then we’ll spring it together.”

Outside, thunder rolled over the city. The skyline flashed white for an instant, reflecting two shadows standing too close to the edge—partners or enemies, neither sure which.

And somewhere, in the static hum of the city’s lights, a voice whispered again—soft, familiar, and alive.

“Welcome back to the truth.”