THE LIE THAT WORE A RING - Chapter 32: Chapter 32
You are reading THE LIE THAT WORE A RING, Chapter 32: Chapter 32. Read more chapters of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING.
Sometimes, the canvas isn’t just for beauty. Sometimes, it hides the evidence.
Nicholas sat in his study, blinds drawn, laptop open to a high-level search engine. Not the public one—this was a private server used only by the most connected. The kind that left no trace.
He entered the name:
Marin Wolfe.
Not much came up at first—at least, nothing suspicious. Her public profile was polished to perfection. Accomplished critic, wealthy background, international art collector, occasional gallery curator.
But then Nicholas found something strange.
Four years ago, Marin had abruptly left her position at a New York gallery after a high-profile dispute with the board over “unauthorized funding sources.” No investigation. No charges. Just… silence. Buried.
Three months after that, she started a consulting agency—specializing in high-value art fraud investigations.
And guess who her first known client was?
Alina Monroe.
Nicholas’s blood ran cold.
He cross-checked dates. Connections. Bank accounts.
Money had moved. Quietly. Enough to suggest something big had been laundered—through him.
He wasn’t just the fool who married a manipulator.
He might have been the financial cover for a scheme far darker than betrayal.
Back at the retreat, Ava was sketching by the lake when Marin approached again. This time, she sat down beside her.
“Still hiding behind the pencil?” Marin asked lightly.
“I could say the same about your words,” Ava replied without looking up. “You talk like someone who’s always just on the edge of telling the truth.”
Marin tilted her head. “Your mother taught you well.”
“She wasn’t my mother.”
A pause. The water lapped gently at the shore.
“You’re right,” Marin said softly. “Alina never wanted to be anyone’s mother. She wanted to be remembered. Even if it meant infamy.”
Ava looked up, finally. “So what did you want?”
Marin’s expression changed. For the first time, something sharp cracked in her voice.
“Justice,” she said. “Alina and I had a plan. We were both discarded. Both underestimated by men with power and names like Carter. You think your father was her first? He wasn’t. He was just the one who mattered most. Because he had something the others didn’t.”
“What?”
“Legacy.”
That night, Ava snuck into the camp’s administrative cabin, found the guest speaker roster, and took a photo of Marin’s credentials.
She sent it to her dad with one text:
“She’s using a false ID. Her signature doesn’t match her old one.”
Nicholas didn’t respond immediately.
When he did, it was a call.
“I think Marin helped Alina launder money,” he said. “There’s a fake consulting firm in Marin’s name. It was registered two months before I met Alina.”
Ava’s stomach flipped.
“So this was planned?”
“Maybe from the start.”
“What do we do?”
Nicholas’s voice was steady. “We prove it. Then we end it. For good this time.”
The next day, Nicholas drove to the retreat himself. He didn’t go straight to Ava.
He went to Marin.
She was in the middle of a morning session when he stepped into the room. Calm, composed, uninvited.
“Class dismissed,” he said, his tone sharp.
The students scattered, confused.
Marin stood still. “Nicholas. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He held up the photo Ava sent. “Forgery. Fraud. Laundering. You and Alina played this game for years. You almost got away with it.”
“I did get away with it,” she said coolly. “You’re only now catching up.”
“Not quite.” He tossed a folder onto the table. Inside were printouts of bank records, business filings, and the false consulting license.
“I know people in the justice department now,” he said. “You’ll be hearing from them soon.”
Marin’s smile wavered.
Only slightly.
Later that evening, Ava hugged her father tightly before getting into the car.
“Are we safe now?” she asked.
Nicholas looked toward the cabin where Marin had packed her bags and disappeared without a word.
“No,” he said. “But we’re closer.”
Nicholas sat in his study, blinds drawn, laptop open to a high-level search engine. Not the public one—this was a private server used only by the most connected. The kind that left no trace.
He entered the name:
Marin Wolfe.
Not much came up at first—at least, nothing suspicious. Her public profile was polished to perfection. Accomplished critic, wealthy background, international art collector, occasional gallery curator.
But then Nicholas found something strange.
Four years ago, Marin had abruptly left her position at a New York gallery after a high-profile dispute with the board over “unauthorized funding sources.” No investigation. No charges. Just… silence. Buried.
Three months after that, she started a consulting agency—specializing in high-value art fraud investigations.
And guess who her first known client was?
Alina Monroe.
Nicholas’s blood ran cold.
He cross-checked dates. Connections. Bank accounts.
Money had moved. Quietly. Enough to suggest something big had been laundered—through him.
He wasn’t just the fool who married a manipulator.
He might have been the financial cover for a scheme far darker than betrayal.
Back at the retreat, Ava was sketching by the lake when Marin approached again. This time, she sat down beside her.
“Still hiding behind the pencil?” Marin asked lightly.
“I could say the same about your words,” Ava replied without looking up. “You talk like someone who’s always just on the edge of telling the truth.”
Marin tilted her head. “Your mother taught you well.”
“She wasn’t my mother.”
A pause. The water lapped gently at the shore.
“You’re right,” Marin said softly. “Alina never wanted to be anyone’s mother. She wanted to be remembered. Even if it meant infamy.”
Ava looked up, finally. “So what did you want?”
Marin’s expression changed. For the first time, something sharp cracked in her voice.
“Justice,” she said. “Alina and I had a plan. We were both discarded. Both underestimated by men with power and names like Carter. You think your father was her first? He wasn’t. He was just the one who mattered most. Because he had something the others didn’t.”
“What?”
“Legacy.”
That night, Ava snuck into the camp’s administrative cabin, found the guest speaker roster, and took a photo of Marin’s credentials.
She sent it to her dad with one text:
“She’s using a false ID. Her signature doesn’t match her old one.”
Nicholas didn’t respond immediately.
When he did, it was a call.
“I think Marin helped Alina launder money,” he said. “There’s a fake consulting firm in Marin’s name. It was registered two months before I met Alina.”
Ava’s stomach flipped.
“So this was planned?”
“Maybe from the start.”
“What do we do?”
Nicholas’s voice was steady. “We prove it. Then we end it. For good this time.”
The next day, Nicholas drove to the retreat himself. He didn’t go straight to Ava.
He went to Marin.
She was in the middle of a morning session when he stepped into the room. Calm, composed, uninvited.
“Class dismissed,” he said, his tone sharp.
The students scattered, confused.
Marin stood still. “Nicholas. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He held up the photo Ava sent. “Forgery. Fraud. Laundering. You and Alina played this game for years. You almost got away with it.”
“I did get away with it,” she said coolly. “You’re only now catching up.”
“Not quite.” He tossed a folder onto the table. Inside were printouts of bank records, business filings, and the false consulting license.
“I know people in the justice department now,” he said. “You’ll be hearing from them soon.”
Marin’s smile wavered.
Only slightly.
Later that evening, Ava hugged her father tightly before getting into the car.
“Are we safe now?” she asked.
Nicholas looked toward the cabin where Marin had packed her bags and disappeared without a word.
“No,” he said. “But we’re closer.”
End of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING Chapter 32. Continue reading Chapter 33 or return to THE LIE THAT WORE A RING book page.