THE LIE THAT WORE A RING - Chapter 13: Chapter 13
You are reading THE LIE THAT WORE A RING, Chapter 13: Chapter 13. Read more chapters of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING.
The house had never looked so elegant.
Golden chandeliers flickered like stars overhead. Classical music drifted softly through the halls. Caterers weaved through crowds in white gloves and black vests, offering champagne and canapés. The entire downstairs had been transformed—floral arches, velvet drapes, a gleaming black piano where their mother’s old bookshelf once stood.
It was beautiful.
But it wasn’t home.
And to Nathaniel, it felt like a funeral dressed in perfume.
Alina moved like royalty, floating from guest to guest in a wine-red gown. Her laugh rang like crystal, her words dripping sugar and power. To the guests—investors, donors, local socialites—she was perfect.
To Dominic, she was proud.
To Nathaniel, she was a mask.
And he was ready to rip it off.
He wore a navy suit, stiff and too tight across the shoulders. Sophie clung to his side most of the night, wide-eyed in her lavender dress, until Alina swept her away to meet the “important people.”
That’s when Nathaniel slipped away—camera in hand, memory card hidden in his sock.
He started in the study.
First, he unplugged the nanny cam she’d installed a week ago—“for the kids’ safety,” she’d claimed. Then he opened his laptop and uploaded the first batch of photos he and Sophie had taken.
Before and after shots.
Personal items removed.
Notes rewritten.
Photos replaced.
Gaps where their mother had once existed.
Erased in silence, caught in light.
He moved quickly.
Slipped into Alina’s private office upstairs—door unlocked, lights off.
Inside, he found the portfolio she’d shown Dominic months ago: the children’s foundation she claimed to support.
He scanned the papers.
And his blood went cold.
There were documents signed under their father’s name.
Donations transferred into shell charities.
Only some money ever reached the supposed children’s hospital.
The rest was redirected.
One, in particular, stood out: Madrigal Holdings.
A name he didn’t recognize—but it wasn’t a hospital.
It was a private investment firm.
And Alina’s name was all over it.
Downstairs, the crowd applauded as Alina took the small stage in front of the grand staircase.
Dominic stood proudly behind her, hand resting on her waist. Sophie stood nearby, clapping quietly, though her eyes were on the floor.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Alina began, her voice warm and commanding. “Tonight is not just a celebration of generosity—it’s a celebration of rebirth.”
Nathaniel watched from the balcony above, heart pounding.
She smiled down at the guests.
“This house has known pain. Loss. But from that darkness, we rise. We grow. We give back.”
She gestured toward the donation box beside the staircase. Applause swelled.
Nathaniel stepped forward.
Voice steady. Cold.
“This house didn’t lose itself. You took it.”
Heads turned.
Alina froze.
Dominic’s smile faltered.
“What did you say?” she asked, still poised, but the tremor was there.
Nathaniel lifted a small projector remote from his pocket and pressed the button.
Behind them, on the far wall—images began to appear.
Photo after photo.
Their mother’s portrait being removed.
Sophie’s torn drawings.
Handwritten letters tossed into trash.
Dates. Times. Proof.
The guests shifted uncomfortably.
Dominic looked stunned.
Alina didn’t move.
But Nathaniel wasn’t done.
He stepped down the stairs slowly, raising his voice.
“She says she’s giving back, but look closer. She’s giving money to herself.”
He dropped the folder with the Madrigal Holdings documents onto the donation table.
“Stolen under your name, Dad.”
Alina’s mask slipped—just slightly.
But enough.
Enough for Dominic to look at her with new eyes.
Enough for the guests to begin murmuring.
Enough for Sophie to take a step closer to her brother.
Alina turned to the crowd, voice still velvet, but now with a sharp edge.
“He’s confused,” she said. “Grieving. That boy has always had trouble accepting change—”
Nathaniel cut in. “I don’t have trouble with change. I have trouble with liars.”
Silence.
Then Dominic stepped forward.
Slowly.
He picked up the papers.
Flipped through them.
Turned to his wife.
“Alina,” he said carefully. “What is this?”
She didn’t answer.
Not yet.
Because she was calculating.
And Nathaniel saw it—the flicker in her eye.
She wasn’t done.
Not by far.
Golden chandeliers flickered like stars overhead. Classical music drifted softly through the halls. Caterers weaved through crowds in white gloves and black vests, offering champagne and canapés. The entire downstairs had been transformed—floral arches, velvet drapes, a gleaming black piano where their mother’s old bookshelf once stood.
It was beautiful.
But it wasn’t home.
And to Nathaniel, it felt like a funeral dressed in perfume.
Alina moved like royalty, floating from guest to guest in a wine-red gown. Her laugh rang like crystal, her words dripping sugar and power. To the guests—investors, donors, local socialites—she was perfect.
To Dominic, she was proud.
To Nathaniel, she was a mask.
And he was ready to rip it off.
He wore a navy suit, stiff and too tight across the shoulders. Sophie clung to his side most of the night, wide-eyed in her lavender dress, until Alina swept her away to meet the “important people.”
That’s when Nathaniel slipped away—camera in hand, memory card hidden in his sock.
He started in the study.
First, he unplugged the nanny cam she’d installed a week ago—“for the kids’ safety,” she’d claimed. Then he opened his laptop and uploaded the first batch of photos he and Sophie had taken.
Before and after shots.
Personal items removed.
Notes rewritten.
Photos replaced.
Gaps where their mother had once existed.
Erased in silence, caught in light.
He moved quickly.
Slipped into Alina’s private office upstairs—door unlocked, lights off.
Inside, he found the portfolio she’d shown Dominic months ago: the children’s foundation she claimed to support.
He scanned the papers.
And his blood went cold.
There were documents signed under their father’s name.
Donations transferred into shell charities.
Only some money ever reached the supposed children’s hospital.
The rest was redirected.
One, in particular, stood out: Madrigal Holdings.
A name he didn’t recognize—but it wasn’t a hospital.
It was a private investment firm.
And Alina’s name was all over it.
Downstairs, the crowd applauded as Alina took the small stage in front of the grand staircase.
Dominic stood proudly behind her, hand resting on her waist. Sophie stood nearby, clapping quietly, though her eyes were on the floor.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Alina began, her voice warm and commanding. “Tonight is not just a celebration of generosity—it’s a celebration of rebirth.”
Nathaniel watched from the balcony above, heart pounding.
She smiled down at the guests.
“This house has known pain. Loss. But from that darkness, we rise. We grow. We give back.”
She gestured toward the donation box beside the staircase. Applause swelled.
Nathaniel stepped forward.
Voice steady. Cold.
“This house didn’t lose itself. You took it.”
Heads turned.
Alina froze.
Dominic’s smile faltered.
“What did you say?” she asked, still poised, but the tremor was there.
Nathaniel lifted a small projector remote from his pocket and pressed the button.
Behind them, on the far wall—images began to appear.
Photo after photo.
Their mother’s portrait being removed.
Sophie’s torn drawings.
Handwritten letters tossed into trash.
Dates. Times. Proof.
The guests shifted uncomfortably.
Dominic looked stunned.
Alina didn’t move.
But Nathaniel wasn’t done.
He stepped down the stairs slowly, raising his voice.
“She says she’s giving back, but look closer. She’s giving money to herself.”
He dropped the folder with the Madrigal Holdings documents onto the donation table.
“Stolen under your name, Dad.”
Alina’s mask slipped—just slightly.
But enough.
Enough for Dominic to look at her with new eyes.
Enough for the guests to begin murmuring.
Enough for Sophie to take a step closer to her brother.
Alina turned to the crowd, voice still velvet, but now with a sharp edge.
“He’s confused,” she said. “Grieving. That boy has always had trouble accepting change—”
Nathaniel cut in. “I don’t have trouble with change. I have trouble with liars.”
Silence.
Then Dominic stepped forward.
Slowly.
He picked up the papers.
Flipped through them.
Turned to his wife.
“Alina,” he said carefully. “What is this?”
She didn’t answer.
Not yet.
Because she was calculating.
And Nathaniel saw it—the flicker in her eye.
She wasn’t done.
Not by far.
End of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING Chapter 13. Continue reading Chapter 14 or return to THE LIE THAT WORE A RING book page.