You’re a natural liar, Other Me!

🔞⛔️Please refrain from opening this chapter if you are under 18 years old. Exercise discretion; this is a work of fiction with all its imaginative elements.

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"Tell me more about that night. Why would he want to kill you, his own wife?"

"I… don't want to talk about it," Beatrice answered.

"Do you still love him after everything he's done to you?"

Beatrice fell silent, her eyes dropping to her lap. The question lingered, heavy and uncomfortable, as she struggled to find the right words.

"Did you cut your own wrist?" he pressed, his concern deepening.

She remained silent, the weight of the question hanging in the air, the truth too painful to confront directly.

"If Atlas knew, he'd be thrilled and would lock you up in a mental hospital even more," Cyrus said, his voice edged with concern and frustration. He knew how manipulative and dangerous Atlas could be, and the thought of Beatrice being further victimized made his blood boil.

Beatrice looked down at her bandaged wrist, her mind racing. She needed a plausible explanation, something that would make sense without revealing the whole truth.

She took a deep breath and lied smoothly, her voice steady. "They gave me medication that caused brain fog. I have to distinguish what's real and what's not. I hurt myself as a reality anchor."

Cyrus studied her, his eyes filled with a mix of empathy and skepticism. "Medication that causes brain fog? That sounds… intense."

Beatrice nodded, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Yes, it's a side effect. I've been struggling to keep track of what's real. The pain helps me focus, reminds me of the here and now."

"Wow, impressive. Now he feels sorry for you. You didn't even need my whispers. You're a natural liar, other me," Blade whispered suddenly, making Beatrice jump and slap her left ear hard.

"Arghh!" she cried out in pain.

Cyrus gently took her hand, his touch soft and reassuring. "Are you hearing whispers?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

Because I hear them when I'm with you, Cyrus thought to himself, his mind racing with confusion and worry.

"No. No. Nothing happened," Beatrice stammered, shaking her head, trying to brush off the strange episode.

"Do you want a painkiller? You've been through a lot," Cyrus offered gently, his concern evident.

"No, thank you. I need to leave," she said, her voice firm but her hands shaking as she attempted to remove the IV herself.

"Are you sure? You still look exhausted," Cyrus asked, his worry deepening as he watched her struggle.

Beatrice ignored him, her focus entirely on the IV, determined to free herself.

"Stop. Let me do it," Cyrus said, stepping closer and gently taking her hand. He carefully peeled away the tape securing the IV, his touch steady and reassuring.

Beatrice watched him, her heart pounding. She was taken aback by his kindness and the stark contrast between him and Atlas.

While Atlas had always been harsh and controlling, Cyrus was gentle and respectful. His touch was soft, and his demeanor was calm, making her feel safe despite her turmoil.

As Cyrus removed the IV with practiced ease, Beatrice couldn't help but feel a wave of unexpected emotions. His care and concern made her heart race, and she felt a mix of gratitude and something else she couldn't quite identify.

She had never experienced such tenderness before from a man, and it left her feeling both vulnerable and strangely comforted.

"There you go," Cyrus said, finishing up and stepping back slightly. "You don't have to rush. You're safe here."

Beatrice met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and appreciation. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"You don't need to thank me," Cyrus replied softly. "Just take your time and rest. You've been through so much."

"No, I have to go now. Thank you," Beatrice said, turning from the bed and stepping away.

"Where will you go?" Cyrus asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Revenge," Blade took over, the shift in her demeanor unmistakable.

"How? By showing up in front of Atlas?" Cyrus chuckled. "I've been hiding you for three days while Atlas sent all his men to kill you, and now you're just going to walk out there and throw your life away—"

Before Cyrus could finish his sentence, Beatrice moved swiftly. In a split second, she stepped towards him and aimed a kick at his neck.

Her movements were lightning fast, a blur of motion that caught him completely off guard.

Cyrus instinctively raised his arms, managing to block her kick just in time, but the force behind it was undeniable. He staggered back, eyes wide with shock and a newfound respect for her abilities.

"I underestimated you," Cyrus said, his voice calm but laced with caution.

Beatrice, still under Blade's influence, glared at him, her body tense and ready to strike again. "Yes, you were."

Cyrus's men immediately raised their weapons, aiming directly at her. The sudden threat made her tense, but before she could react, Cyrus raised his hand, signaling them to lower their guns.

"Stand down," Cyrus commanded firmly, his eyes never leaving Beatrice. "She's not a threat to us right now."

His men hesitated for a moment, glancing at each other uncertainly before slowly lowering their weapons. The tension in the room eased slightly, but the air was still thick with unspoken warnings.

Beatrice looked back at Cyrus, a mixture of defiance and gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, her voice steady.

Instead of feeling threatened, Cyrus chuckled, gently brushing her smooth leg. He could even glimpse the inner thigh and groin area.

"Your body is so smooth, flexible and agile," he complimented.

"I was a ballerina," she replied.

"Hot," Cyrus said, his tone appreciative.

"And Blade is an assassin. I can ensure your neck breaks faster than a bullet," Beatrice warned, her voice cold and deadly.

"Hotter!" Cyrus responded, his grin widening, clearly impressed and unfazed by her threat.

Beatrice's leg slowly lowered, brushing against Cyrus's chest and stomach—his breath caught as she reached his groin—then pressing his dick firmly. The sensation sent a shiver through him, a mix of surprise and undeniable arousal.

"Oh," Cyrus exclaimed, his eyes widening as he looked up at her. He was surprised but also clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events.

"I like being dominated by a hot lady as you are," he added, his voice huskier than before.

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