Chapter 20(secret revealed)

Chapter 20(secret revealed)
HONEYMOON SUITE

Lian sat on the edge of the massive bed, still in that suffocating dress, the veil long gone, makeup smeared slightly under his eyes. The silence in the room was too loud. For once, there was no press, no cameras, no fake smiles. Just him and the truth he couldn’t run from.

The suite looked like something out of a luxury catalog rose petals on the bed, soft golden light, champagne chilling in a bucket. But none of that shit mattered. Not when his whole life was sitting on a goddamn ticking time bomb.

His fingers trembled as he undid the earrings one by one, placing them on the nightstand like he was peeling off layers of a lie.

That fucking sex tape.

Lian’s jaw clenched. It wasn’t even his tape. It was Mei’s. But it didn’t matter. To the world, Mei was him. And now, so was her goddamn mess. Her reckless shit. Her ego.

He could still hear the gasps, the whispers, the cameras clicking like a thousand tiny knives.

"That slut."

"Whore."

"She’s been passed around."

They were talking about him now. Not Mei. Not the real one. Because to them, Lian was Mei.

And if one tape could do that much damage, how long before the rest of her shit comes crawling out? The drugs. The blackmail. The dumb shit she did with men who had more money than morals.

He bit the inside of his cheek, hard. He wasn’t Mei. But no one gave a fuck.

He’d be the one burned for her sins.

And worse?

He knew who played that video. He knew.

Vivian. That cold plastic bitch with her red dress and venom smile.

And Reginald. Cheng’s own goddamn father.

They thought they were smart. Humiliate him in front of the elite. Break the marriage before it began. But they didn’t count on Cheng standing by him like a goddamn brick wall. That man didn’t even flinch nor shake. Just told them all to fuck off and kissed him like none of it mattered.

But Lian wasn’t stupid.

Vivian and Reginald weren’t gonna stop. They lost today, sure, but people like that? They don’t quit. They reload and come back more powerful thsn ever.

He needed to be ready to face them.

He needed to think like them. Move like them. Beat them at their own dirty fucking game.

A knock hit the door softly.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to. He knew who it was. There was only one other person supposed to be in this room tonight.

His husband.

His fucking husband.

Lian’s breath caught in his throat.

The consummation.

The goddamn thing he'd been avoiding since this whole nightmare started.

Because there was only so much pretending you could do with clothes on. But naked? Alone? That close?

There was no hiding the truth between your legs.

And Cheng sharp, dangerous, always watching him, he’d know in seconds.

Lian stood and looked at the mirror across the room. His reflection didn’t even look real anymore. A doll dressed in white. Not a man. Not a woman. Just... a tool. A decoy. A goddamn puppet in a show for every to enjoy.

He pulled the dress down slowly, letting it fall to the floor.

His chest felt hollow. He’d never felt more exposed in his life, even with the door still closed.

And then there was his parents.

Those two fucking clowns had the nerve to show up after abandoning him. They hadn’t said shit to him since the engagement party. Left him to deal with death threats, tabloids, mafia politics, and now marriage and they just show up like they forgot their groceries?

He was supposed to miss them.

He was supposed to cry or hug them or feel something.

But all he felt was numb.

Like seeing them was just one more reminder that blood didn’t mean loyalty. That family? It could be the first knife in your back.

They used him.

Just like everyone did. Just like the Wilsons always had.

He wasn’t their son. He was their sacrifice.

He paced the room once, then again, body tense. Marriage. Secrets. Enemies. Betrayals.

And now, a bed he was expected to share with a man who could destroy him with just one question.

His fingers gripped the edge of the table. Hard.

What the fuck am I gonna do?

And then, like a punch to the chest, he remembered.

The car ride.

Earlier that morning. Right before the ceremony.

When they were alone in the backseat of the limo, and Cheng was watching him like he already owned every inch of his body.

“You better wear the dress I picked out for you tonight,” Cheng had said, voice like molasses and threat all wrapped up in heat. “The one in the black box. Put it on after the vows.”

Lian had stared out the window, silent.

“And prepare yourself, cariño,” Cheng had added with a smirk. “Tonight, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget every name except mine.”

That sentence haunted Lian all damn day. It followed him through the walk down the aisle, through the sex tape, through the vows.

And now here he was, in the room. Alone. Married. With that damn box sitting on the dresser like a countdown.

He turned and looked at it.

Sleek. Black. Velvet. Tied with a silk ribbon.

He wanted to throw it out the fucking window.

But instead, like a fucking masochist, he walked toward it.

His fingers untied the ribbon slowly. His chest tight. His mouth dry.

He opened the lid.

Fuck.

Lingerie.

Sheer. Black. Strappy as hell. Barely anything at all.

There were no pads, no modesty, no comfort. Just threads and lace designed to be ripped off.

He stared at it like it was a loaded gun.

Then picked it up and held it against his chest.

This was it.

No more pretending.

No more walls.

If he put this on if he laid in that bed it was the end of the game.

Cheng wasn’t gonna stop at kisses.

He’d want everything.

And Lian had no fucking clue how to survive that.

Not just physically but emotionally.

Because somewhere along the line, Lian stopped seeing Cheng as just the enemy.

And that was the most dangerous part of all.

Then he headed towards the bathroom where je had a long refreshing bath.


He ha the bath which reduce his stress but as he stared at the lingerie all his torment came back. He exhaled hard and dragged the fabric over his skin. It fit like a sin. Tight in all the wrong places, too revealing, barely enough to count as clothing.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the person staring back.

He looked like someone’s dirty little secret.

He sat on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. His legs felt like lead. His heart pounded like it was about to crack a rib.

He wasn’t ready.

Not for Cheng. Not for tonight. Not for the war that was already boiling behind those fake-ass smiles from earlier.

Vivian. Reginald.

Even His parents.

They all wanted something from him. Power. Control. Revenge. And they were gonna keep coming until he was broken.

But tonight?

Tonight he had to survive this.

He had to survive the man who had the power to love him and destroy him in the same breath.

The door handle turned.

He looked up.

It was time.

The door clicked open.

Lian didn’t move. Just kept his eyes fixed on the man who stepped inside like he owned the fucking night.

Cheng.

No suit jacket now. Just the crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Hair a little messy. Face unreadable. But those eyes dark, slow-burning, wicked locked onto Lian like a predator who’d been waiting all damn day.

The door shut with a soft thud behind him.

He didn’t speak at first.

Didn’t need to.

That look? Said everything.

Lian sat perfectly still on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, sheer black lingerie hugging every inch of him like gum. His hands were tight on his thighs. His chest barely moved.

“You wore it,” Cheng finally said, voice low. Thick. Dangerous.

Like he was tasting every word before letting it leave his mouth.

Lian swallowed. “You asked.”

Cheng’s gaze dragged over him, slow and heavy, like a touch that hadn’t even landed yet but still made Lian’s skin burn. “No,” he murmured. “I told you.”

He moved closer, step by step, his eyes never leaving Lian’s body. “And look at you,” he whispered, almost like awe but more like hunger. “Obedient little thing.”

Lian didn’t respond.

He couldn’t. His throat was too dry. His mind too loud. And his body fuck, his body was betraying him. Every nerve on fire, every thought screaming.

Cheng reached the foot of the bed. He didn’t sit. Just stood there, towering over Lian.

"You look like a fucking dream," he muttered, voice dipping even lower. "And I don’t know whether to worship you or ruin you."

Lian’s lips parted slightly, breath catching.

Cheng leaned in slow, so fucking slow one hand lifting to brush a strand of hair behind Lian’s ear. His fingers grazed skin, soft and electric.

“You nervous?” he asked, tone almost teasing but coated in something darker. “You should be.”

Lian met his eyes. Forced the words out. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Cheng chuckled. Low and sinful. “You shouldn't be.”

He leaned closer, mouth right by Lian’s ear. “But because tonight, cariño, I’m not holding back.”

Lian shivered.

Cheng stepped around the bed, moving behind him. His hand ghosted down Lian’s shoulder, trailing along the curve of his back.

“This,” he murmured, tugging lightly at a strap, “doesn’t look like it wants to stay on very long.”

Lian stayed still.

But inside?

Panic. Want. but his was gravely afraid.

All of it.

Cheng leaned down, lips brushing the shell of Lian’s ear. “You look like something made to be fucked. Slow. Deep. Loud.”

Lian’s breath hitched.

“But you also look like you’re trying real hard not to fall apart,” Cheng continued, voice dark silk. “Tell me what scares you more?

His hand slid lower.

“Or that you’ll like what I do to you too much to stop?”

Lian’s stomach flipped.

His mind screamed.

But his body stayed right there, tensed.

Cheng pulled away just enough to walk back in front of him. He unbuttoned another button on his shirt, letting it hang open just enough to show the ink on his chest.

Then he reached out a hand.

“Stand up.”

Lian blinked.

“What?”

“I said,” Cheng repeated, firmer, deeper, “get up.”

Lian’s heart pounded so hard it drowned out everything else. But he moved. Slowly. Carefully. Legs wobbling slightly as he stood in front of the man who was both his protector and his biggest threat.

Cheng took him in again, eyes dropping, lingering. “Turn around.”

Lian hesitated.

“Do it.”

He did.

Cheng stepped closer, chest brushing Lian’s back. His hand came up, sliding down Lian’s side, fingers splaying against his hip.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Standing here like this. All dressed up for me. Like a gift.”

Lian’s hands started shaking as fear enveloped him.

His voice came out tight. “You want to unwrap me, is that it?” he asked his voice already shaking it felt he should disappear or just wake up and find out it was all a dream or rather an illusion.

Cheng smirked against his neck. “No, cariño. I want to tear you open and see your tight little asshole and your little cock filled with pre-cum.”

Then Lian gasped as he realized.