THE LIE THAT WORE A RING - Chapter 22: Chapter 22
You are reading THE LIE THAT WORE A RING, Chapter 22: Chapter 22. Read more chapters of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING.
The mansion was quiet now.
No more slammed doors. No more icy glares across the dinner table. No more false laughter. Just echoes—of things said, of things lost.
Nicholas sat on the edge of his bed, staring at a photo he used to love. The four of them—him, Alina, Ava, and Ethan—taken just a month after the wedding. He was smiling. She was radiant. The kids were trying.
Now, it felt like a lie in a frame.
Downstairs, Ava was curled up in the corner of the library, headphones in, trying to disappear into music. She’d stopped drawing. Her sketchbooks lay untouched. Her once-bold eyes were dull, her spark dimmed. The betrayal cut her deeper than anyone had guessed.
“She made me hate you,” she had told her father days earlier. “I believed everything she said.”
“She made me doubt myself too,” Nicholas admitted. “But we’re still here. We’re still standing.”
That didn’t mean they weren’t broken.
Ethan had taken it differently.
He was angry. More than that—he was bitter. He punched the wall in the garage when the court declared a temporary freeze on the estate accounts, pending investigation. He threw his phone when he saw another article twisting the truth in Alina’s favor.
“They’re calling her the victim?” he growled. “After everything she did to us?”
Nicholas tried to talk to him. Ethan wouldn’t sit still.
“I trusted her,” the boy snapped. “She made me believe you didn’t care. That you were only tolerating us.”
Nicholas reached for him, but Ethan pulled back.
“You let her in, Dad. You let her do this.”
That one stung.
He didn’t say it to be cruel. He said it because it was true.
Therapy started that week.
A quiet woman named Dr. Harris came to the house three times a week. She didn’t ask too many questions at first. She just sat, listened, and let the silence stretch.
Ava didn’t speak in her first session. She just cried.
Ethan didn’t cry. He stared at the window and asked if it was normal to want revenge.
Nicholas? He asked if it was possible to rebuild trust when you were the one who failed to protect the people you love.
Dr. Harris didn’t give simple answers.
She just said, “It’ll take time. But healing begins when you stop pretending it didn’t happen.”
Meanwhile, Alina kept making moves.
Her PR team released another statement, this time painting her as a woman “abandoned and betrayed by a cold, corporate family.” Rumors about Nicholas’s parenting began to surface—fabricated, twisted tales she’d crafted during their marriage, now weaponized in the press.
But something shifted.
People started digging deeper.
Old acquaintances came forward. Her ex from before Nicholas. A woman from a former job. Quiet murmurs of manipulation, control, lies. Nothing proved yet, but the story was changing again.
This time, Alina wasn’t the only voice.
Ava posted a video. Just her, no makeup, no performance. Just truth.
“She hurt us. She lied to us. And she turned us against our father. I was old enough to know better, but I believed her anyway. Now I’m trying to forgive myself—and him.”
The video went viral.
Thousands of supportive comments poured in. Some hateful ones too, but Ava didn’t flinch this time.
She’d found her voice again.
And she wasn’t letting anyone silence it.
One night, as the house finally began to feel like a home again, Nicholas stood outside Ava’s door. He knocked gently.
“You up?” he asked.
Ava opened the door slowly. “Yeah.”
He held out her old sketchbook. “You left this in my study.”
She took it, ran her fingers over the cover. “Thanks.”
“Maybe it’s time to draw again.”
She smiled a little. Just a little.
“Maybe.”
No more slammed doors. No more icy glares across the dinner table. No more false laughter. Just echoes—of things said, of things lost.
Nicholas sat on the edge of his bed, staring at a photo he used to love. The four of them—him, Alina, Ava, and Ethan—taken just a month after the wedding. He was smiling. She was radiant. The kids were trying.
Now, it felt like a lie in a frame.
Downstairs, Ava was curled up in the corner of the library, headphones in, trying to disappear into music. She’d stopped drawing. Her sketchbooks lay untouched. Her once-bold eyes were dull, her spark dimmed. The betrayal cut her deeper than anyone had guessed.
“She made me hate you,” she had told her father days earlier. “I believed everything she said.”
“She made me doubt myself too,” Nicholas admitted. “But we’re still here. We’re still standing.”
That didn’t mean they weren’t broken.
Ethan had taken it differently.
He was angry. More than that—he was bitter. He punched the wall in the garage when the court declared a temporary freeze on the estate accounts, pending investigation. He threw his phone when he saw another article twisting the truth in Alina’s favor.
“They’re calling her the victim?” he growled. “After everything she did to us?”
Nicholas tried to talk to him. Ethan wouldn’t sit still.
“I trusted her,” the boy snapped. “She made me believe you didn’t care. That you were only tolerating us.”
Nicholas reached for him, but Ethan pulled back.
“You let her in, Dad. You let her do this.”
That one stung.
He didn’t say it to be cruel. He said it because it was true.
Therapy started that week.
A quiet woman named Dr. Harris came to the house three times a week. She didn’t ask too many questions at first. She just sat, listened, and let the silence stretch.
Ava didn’t speak in her first session. She just cried.
Ethan didn’t cry. He stared at the window and asked if it was normal to want revenge.
Nicholas? He asked if it was possible to rebuild trust when you were the one who failed to protect the people you love.
Dr. Harris didn’t give simple answers.
She just said, “It’ll take time. But healing begins when you stop pretending it didn’t happen.”
Meanwhile, Alina kept making moves.
Her PR team released another statement, this time painting her as a woman “abandoned and betrayed by a cold, corporate family.” Rumors about Nicholas’s parenting began to surface—fabricated, twisted tales she’d crafted during their marriage, now weaponized in the press.
But something shifted.
People started digging deeper.
Old acquaintances came forward. Her ex from before Nicholas. A woman from a former job. Quiet murmurs of manipulation, control, lies. Nothing proved yet, but the story was changing again.
This time, Alina wasn’t the only voice.
Ava posted a video. Just her, no makeup, no performance. Just truth.
“She hurt us. She lied to us. And she turned us against our father. I was old enough to know better, but I believed her anyway. Now I’m trying to forgive myself—and him.”
The video went viral.
Thousands of supportive comments poured in. Some hateful ones too, but Ava didn’t flinch this time.
She’d found her voice again.
And she wasn’t letting anyone silence it.
One night, as the house finally began to feel like a home again, Nicholas stood outside Ava’s door. He knocked gently.
“You up?” he asked.
Ava opened the door slowly. “Yeah.”
He held out her old sketchbook. “You left this in my study.”
She took it, ran her fingers over the cover. “Thanks.”
“Maybe it’s time to draw again.”
She smiled a little. Just a little.
“Maybe.”
End of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING Chapter 22. Continue reading Chapter 23 or return to THE LIE THAT WORE A RING book page.