THE LIE THAT WORE A RING - Chapter 36: Chapter 36

You can’t outrun the past—especially when it wears the face of someone you loved.
Nicholas never imagined he’d be standing in front of Claire Doyle’s estate again.
Years ago, he had attended an exclusive charity auction there—hosted by his late wife, Isabelle, and Claire. Back then, it was all laughter and polished speeches. He remembered how Claire had kissed Isabelle on the cheek before presenting a painting that later disappeared without a trace.
Now, he stood with a purpose far colder.
He rang the bell. A young assistant answered, looked him over, then stepped aside without a word.
Claire was in the conservatory, dressed in flowing black, sipping lemon tea.
“You look like a man with questions,” she said before he spoke.
Nicholas approached carefully. “I need to know how you knew my wife.”
Claire tilted her head. “We were friends. Partners, once. Isabelle was brilliant. Beautiful. But… not innocent.”
Nicholas felt the chill before he heard the words.
“She was part of a private art laundering ring,” Claire continued. “Before the children. Before you.”
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t believe you.”
Claire smirked. “Of course you don’t. But you should ask yourself this: why did Isabelle marry a billionaire so quickly after she vanished from the art world?”
He didn’t respond.
Claire’s voice softened, almost fond. “She left because she knew the storm was coming. And she chose peace. She chose you. But peace has a price. Someone still wants that debt paid.”
Back at home, Ava sorted through her mother’s old journals in the attic.
She’d never dared to read them before—not because of shame, but reverence. They felt sacred. Untouchable.
But now… now she needed answers.
One small leather-bound book stood out. It wasn’t dated. Just filled with quiet entries—written in clean, elegant cursive.
> “Claire said the auction will be smooth. I’m not sure. The painting isn’t real. I hate this. I want out.”
> “He’s kind. Gentle. I don’t deserve someone like Nicholas. Maybe this is my second chance.”
> “I’m pregnant. Claire said to stay quiet about everything. Burn it all if I must.”
Ava’s hands shook.
Her mother hadn’t been a perfect woman in a tragic story.
She had been part of something dark.
And she had run.
Ethan found Ava curled on the floor an hour later, the journal pressed to her chest.
“I didn’t want her to be like them,” Ava whispered. “But she lied. She ran from something. And now we’re paying for it.”
Ethan didn’t speak at first.
Then he sat beside her. “Mom left it behind. She chose us. Maybe that’s enough.”
“But someone doesn’t think it is,” she murmured. “And they’re not done with us.”
Meanwhile, inside Graybridge Federal Prison, Alina Monroe sat across from a visitor.
The woman had no name on her badge.
She simply said, “I represent certain parties who benefited from your silence. But the Carters are digging again.”
Alina’s smile was sharp.
“Let them.”
“You could be dragged in again.”
“I want to be,” Alina purred. “Let me back into the story. I know how to end it.”
The woman passed her a slip of paper.
“Then you’ll enjoy what’s coming next.”
That night, Nicholas gathered Ava, Ethan, and Elise in the drawing room.
He held his late wife’s journal in one hand. Ava had already shown him.
“There’s something we never knew,” he said. “And I don’t think this new threat is just about Alina. Or Marin. This runs deeper—maybe back to your mother. And we’re going to face it. Together.”
No one spoke.
Then Ethan said, “What if we can’t handle what we find?”
Nicholas’s eyes were clear. Calm.
“Then we make sure it ends with us.”