THE LIE THAT WORE A RING - Chapter 18: Chapter 18
You are reading THE LIE THAT WORE A RING, Chapter 18: Chapter 18. Read more chapters of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING.
He realizes the damage too late.
The storm rolled in around midnight, casting lightning across the vast estate and rattling the glass panes of the master bedroom. Nicholas Winchester sat alone in his study, his fingers gripping a glass of scotch that had long gone warm. The amber liquid trembled in his hand, just as his thoughts did.
The house had grown cold—not just from the rain, but from something deeper. Something rotten. Something... wrong.
He glanced at the family portrait above the fireplace: himself, Ava, Ethan, and Alina, all dressed in muted grays and whites like some perfect magazine family. But now the smiles looked forced. The eyes—especially Alina’s—seemed almost mocking.
A knock broke through the crackling silence.
“Come in,” he said hoarsely.
It was Ethan, drenched from the hallway. Ava stood behind him, holding a small folder clutched to her chest.
“We need to talk,” Ethan said.
Nicholas looked at them—truly looked—and for the first time in weeks, he saw how pale Ava had become. How distant Ethan’s eyes had grown. How far they’d both drifted from him.
He set his glass down. “Go ahead.”
Ava stepped forward and placed the folder on his desk.
“Please just read it,” she said.
Nicholas opened it slowly. Inside were the printouts: the article about Genevieve Morales, the missing persons report, photos of Alina with different hair and names, a copy of the voice note Ethan had recorded from her burner phone, transcribed in bold ink.
He read in silence. His face drained of color.
“You’re saying… she’s not Alina?”
“She was Genevieve,” Ava said, voice tight. “Before she vanished with her daughter. Before she changed her name. Before she came here.”
Nicholas looked at them, dazed. “And the girl?”
“Missing. Never found,” Ethan said. “We think she abandoned her. Just like she’s trying to ruin us now.”
Nicholas leaned back, running a hand down his face. “No. No, this can’t be. She loves you. She’s done everything for this family—”
“No, Dad,” Ava snapped. “She’s done everything for herself.”
“She made you think we hated you,” Ethan added. “She twisted everything. And you let her.”
The words stung. Nicholas opened his mouth to argue—but the memories came flooding in.
Ava screaming, locked in her room after Alina accused her of disrespect.
Ethan nearly expelled from school after Alina reported him for stealing—only for the accusation to mysteriously disappear when Nicholas made a donation.
The arguments. The isolation. The forced smiles. The constant apologies he’d had to make to his children for things he didn’t understand.
How could he have missed it?
His voice broke when he spoke. “She said you were struggling… grieving your mother still. That I was too soft with you. That I needed to be a stronger parent…”
“We were grieving,” Ava said. “And she used it.”
Ethan stepped forward. “You wanted to fix the family. But she came in to break it.”
Nicholas stared at them. These weren’t children lying for attention. These were wounded, angry, determined young people.
And he had failed them.
“I’ll fix this,” he said finally, his voice gravel. “I promise you both. I’ll make this right.”
Ava looked at him with tired eyes. “We don’t need promises, Dad. We need you to wake up.”
That night, long after the children had gone to bed, Nicholas stood in the doorway of the master suite, watching Alina sleep. Her beauty was unchanged—perfect curls against silk pillows, a smile still tugging at the edge of her lips even in slumber.
But now it chilled him.
She wasn’t his salvation.
She was his greatest mistake.
And the storm outside was nothing compared to the one coming inside these walls.
The storm rolled in around midnight, casting lightning across the vast estate and rattling the glass panes of the master bedroom. Nicholas Winchester sat alone in his study, his fingers gripping a glass of scotch that had long gone warm. The amber liquid trembled in his hand, just as his thoughts did.
The house had grown cold—not just from the rain, but from something deeper. Something rotten. Something... wrong.
He glanced at the family portrait above the fireplace: himself, Ava, Ethan, and Alina, all dressed in muted grays and whites like some perfect magazine family. But now the smiles looked forced. The eyes—especially Alina’s—seemed almost mocking.
A knock broke through the crackling silence.
“Come in,” he said hoarsely.
It was Ethan, drenched from the hallway. Ava stood behind him, holding a small folder clutched to her chest.
“We need to talk,” Ethan said.
Nicholas looked at them—truly looked—and for the first time in weeks, he saw how pale Ava had become. How distant Ethan’s eyes had grown. How far they’d both drifted from him.
He set his glass down. “Go ahead.”
Ava stepped forward and placed the folder on his desk.
“Please just read it,” she said.
Nicholas opened it slowly. Inside were the printouts: the article about Genevieve Morales, the missing persons report, photos of Alina with different hair and names, a copy of the voice note Ethan had recorded from her burner phone, transcribed in bold ink.
He read in silence. His face drained of color.
“You’re saying… she’s not Alina?”
“She was Genevieve,” Ava said, voice tight. “Before she vanished with her daughter. Before she changed her name. Before she came here.”
Nicholas looked at them, dazed. “And the girl?”
“Missing. Never found,” Ethan said. “We think she abandoned her. Just like she’s trying to ruin us now.”
Nicholas leaned back, running a hand down his face. “No. No, this can’t be. She loves you. She’s done everything for this family—”
“No, Dad,” Ava snapped. “She’s done everything for herself.”
“She made you think we hated you,” Ethan added. “She twisted everything. And you let her.”
The words stung. Nicholas opened his mouth to argue—but the memories came flooding in.
Ava screaming, locked in her room after Alina accused her of disrespect.
Ethan nearly expelled from school after Alina reported him for stealing—only for the accusation to mysteriously disappear when Nicholas made a donation.
The arguments. The isolation. The forced smiles. The constant apologies he’d had to make to his children for things he didn’t understand.
How could he have missed it?
His voice broke when he spoke. “She said you were struggling… grieving your mother still. That I was too soft with you. That I needed to be a stronger parent…”
“We were grieving,” Ava said. “And she used it.”
Ethan stepped forward. “You wanted to fix the family. But she came in to break it.”
Nicholas stared at them. These weren’t children lying for attention. These were wounded, angry, determined young people.
And he had failed them.
“I’ll fix this,” he said finally, his voice gravel. “I promise you both. I’ll make this right.”
Ava looked at him with tired eyes. “We don’t need promises, Dad. We need you to wake up.”
That night, long after the children had gone to bed, Nicholas stood in the doorway of the master suite, watching Alina sleep. Her beauty was unchanged—perfect curls against silk pillows, a smile still tugging at the edge of her lips even in slumber.
But now it chilled him.
She wasn’t his salvation.
She was his greatest mistake.
And the storm outside was nothing compared to the one coming inside these walls.
End of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING Chapter 18. Continue reading Chapter 19 or return to THE LIE THAT WORE A RING book page.