THE LIE THAT WORE A RING - Chapter 14: Chapter 14
You are reading THE LIE THAT WORE A RING, Chapter 14: Chapter 14. Read more chapters of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING.
The guests were still whispering.
Dominic stood frozen, the documents in his hand trembling ever so slightly. His eyes scanned the proof—his signature forged, his trust manipulated, his name used to funnel money into false accounts.
But Alina?
She didn’t panic.
She didn’t cry.
She adjusted the strap of her dress, stepped into the center of the room, and smiled.
“My,” she said gently, “what a dramatic twist to a beautiful evening.”
The crowd chuckled awkwardly. Some were uncomfortable. Some were curious. Others—already under her spell—waited for her next words like it was theatre.
“First, let me say this: I admire Nathaniel’s passion. His loyalty to his late mother. His fierce protectiveness of this home.”
She turned to him, her eyes glassy—but not a single tear.
“But grief,” she continued, “can twist truth. It can poison memory. And it can create a version of reality that feels more real than the truth itself.”
Murmurs spread again.
Dominic’s mouth opened, but no words came.
Alina stepped forward and took his hand.
“I would never take a cent from this family,” she said, locking eyes with the room. “Not one.”
She held up the documents.
“These are fakes. Fabricated. Tampered with. There are programs online now where a teenager can forge anything. You know that. These are desperate measures from a boy who’s scared.”
Nathaniel stared at her in disbelief.
Was she… gaslighting him in front of an entire crowd?
Yes.
Flawlessly.
And then she turned on the waterworks—just enough.
Not sobbing. Not overacting.
Just a single, perfect tear down one cheek.
“He’s hurting,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “And I know you all see it. But attacking me doesn’t bring his mother back.”
A woman near the front reached for a tissue.
Someone else nodded in sympathy.
And just like that, the tide began to turn.
Dominic looked between the two of them.
Nathaniel.
Alina.
Son.
Wife.
Truth.
Love.
But also shame. Uncertainty. Fear of believing he’d let it happen.
And that hesitation—that second—was all Alina needed.
She turned to him and placed a hand on his chest.
“Let’s not turn our home into a battlefield.”
He didn’t nod.
But he didn’t walk away either.
And that was enough.
The crowd applauded weakly.
Alina thanked them with a bow and called for the music to resume. The lights dimmed slightly. Waiters moved back into motion.
And just like that—the moment passed.
The story rewrote itself.
Later that night, after the last car rolled down the driveway and the last glass was cleaned, Nathaniel sat on the back steps, cold air stinging his lungs.
Sophie joined him, holding two mugs of warm milk.
“She made them clap,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“She lied.”
“I know.”
Sophie looked down at her cup.
“Will anyone believe us?”
Nathaniel took a sip and stared into the dark.
“They will,” he said. “But not all at once. We have to be smarter.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Nathaniel clenched his jaw.
This was no longer just about their family.
It was a war for the truth.
And Alina had just fired the first cannon.
Dominic stood frozen, the documents in his hand trembling ever so slightly. His eyes scanned the proof—his signature forged, his trust manipulated, his name used to funnel money into false accounts.
But Alina?
She didn’t panic.
She didn’t cry.
She adjusted the strap of her dress, stepped into the center of the room, and smiled.
“My,” she said gently, “what a dramatic twist to a beautiful evening.”
The crowd chuckled awkwardly. Some were uncomfortable. Some were curious. Others—already under her spell—waited for her next words like it was theatre.
“First, let me say this: I admire Nathaniel’s passion. His loyalty to his late mother. His fierce protectiveness of this home.”
She turned to him, her eyes glassy—but not a single tear.
“But grief,” she continued, “can twist truth. It can poison memory. And it can create a version of reality that feels more real than the truth itself.”
Murmurs spread again.
Dominic’s mouth opened, but no words came.
Alina stepped forward and took his hand.
“I would never take a cent from this family,” she said, locking eyes with the room. “Not one.”
She held up the documents.
“These are fakes. Fabricated. Tampered with. There are programs online now where a teenager can forge anything. You know that. These are desperate measures from a boy who’s scared.”
Nathaniel stared at her in disbelief.
Was she… gaslighting him in front of an entire crowd?
Yes.
Flawlessly.
And then she turned on the waterworks—just enough.
Not sobbing. Not overacting.
Just a single, perfect tear down one cheek.
“He’s hurting,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “And I know you all see it. But attacking me doesn’t bring his mother back.”
A woman near the front reached for a tissue.
Someone else nodded in sympathy.
And just like that, the tide began to turn.
Dominic looked between the two of them.
Nathaniel.
Alina.
Son.
Wife.
Truth.
Love.
But also shame. Uncertainty. Fear of believing he’d let it happen.
And that hesitation—that second—was all Alina needed.
She turned to him and placed a hand on his chest.
“Let’s not turn our home into a battlefield.”
He didn’t nod.
But he didn’t walk away either.
And that was enough.
The crowd applauded weakly.
Alina thanked them with a bow and called for the music to resume. The lights dimmed slightly. Waiters moved back into motion.
And just like that—the moment passed.
The story rewrote itself.
Later that night, after the last car rolled down the driveway and the last glass was cleaned, Nathaniel sat on the back steps, cold air stinging his lungs.
Sophie joined him, holding two mugs of warm milk.
“She made them clap,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“She lied.”
“I know.”
Sophie looked down at her cup.
“Will anyone believe us?”
Nathaniel took a sip and stared into the dark.
“They will,” he said. “But not all at once. We have to be smarter.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Nathaniel clenched his jaw.
This was no longer just about their family.
It was a war for the truth.
And Alina had just fired the first cannon.
End of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING Chapter 14. Continue reading Chapter 15 or return to THE LIE THAT WORE A RING book page.