THE LIE THAT WORE A RING - Chapter 39: Chapter 39
You are reading THE LIE THAT WORE A RING, Chapter 39: Chapter 39. Read more chapters of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING.
Sometimes the dead leave behind more than memories—they leave maps disguised as guilt.
Nicholas returned to New York just past midnight, jet-lagged and hollow. The Crimson Veil painting had been secured in a high-security Carter-owned vault, guarded under false registry and encrypted access. But it wasn’t safe from the truth it held.
Waiting in the study were Ava, Ethan, and Elise.
Ava stood the moment he walked in. “We know.”
Nicholas looked from her to Elise, who didn’t flinch under his gaze.
“I found the emails,” Ava said quietly. “Jonas Wells. The assignment. Everything.”
Nicholas nodded slowly, his jaw working.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked Elise.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?” he snapped. “From the truth? From yourself?”
“No,” Elise said firmly. “From the wreckage I helped create.”
She reached into her coat and pulled out a flash drive. “This contains all my communications with Jonas. Locations. Conversations. Bank details. I know how this works, Nicholas. If I’m lying, you’ll find it here.”
He took it with hesitation. “Why now?”
“Because I’m done lying,” she said. “And because I love them. All of them.”
Nicholas’s eyes flickered toward Ava and Ethan.
Then he turned away.
That morning, Ava sat in the vault room alone with the painting.
She had come early—before her father, before the noise.
The Crimson Veil was terrifyingly silent. In the dim light, the blood-hued figure of her mother seemed to weep from the canvas. The hidden symbols in the underlayers teased truths Ava wasn’t sure she wanted.
But something caught her eye.
In the lower left corner, beneath the varnish, barely visible—was a number.
"K-17-4-8."
She snapped a photo and ran to the mansion.
Ethan looked up from breakfast. “What’s that?”
“I think it’s a code,” she whispered. “Maybe coordinates. Or a cipher. Something she left for us.”
Nicholas entered seconds later.
“I’ve seen that pattern,” he said, breath catching. “In Isabelle’s will. The file name for one of the sealed documents.”
He pulled it from a drawer in his study, an untouched legal document marked “PRIVATE – TO BE OPENED ONLY IF…”
He never had the heart to look.
Inside, Isabelle had left instructions.
Coordinates.
A location outside Tarrytown, near the old woodland property where she once spent summers alone painting.
But there was more.
A key.
A literal one—small, silver, ornate.
With the initials I.C. engraved on the back.
“‘I.C.’?” Ethan asked.
“Isabelle Carter,” Nicholas said.
“No,” Ava corrected. “Isabelle Chambers. Her maiden name.”
By noon, the family drove to the site. Elise stayed behind without protest.
The property had long been abandoned. Overgrown, silent. Nature reclaiming what legacy had left behind.
Inside the cottage, the scent of dust and oil paint hung heavy. Everything had remained untouched—like a time capsule.
Nicholas moved to a locked wooden trunk beneath the staircase. The key clicked perfectly.
Inside were dozens of envelopes, paintings, and journals. Some signed. Some sealed. But one stood out.
A thick envelope labeled: “For My Children, When They Are Strong Enough to Know.”
Ava opened it with trembling hands.
Inside was a letter.
> “If you are reading this, then my sins have caught up to me. I was part of something dangerous, something beautiful and corrupt. I used my talent to create illusions—paintings filled with codes that mapped out money, movement, power. They called it art. It was war disguised in oil and canvas.
When I met your father, I ran. I left it all behind. But I always knew it would resurface.
They will tell you I was a monster. But I was also a mother. And I loved you.
This is my final painting. It’s not a confession.
It’s a map. Follow it. Or burn it. But know this: truth doesn’t kill. Silence does.”
Ava’s hands trembled.
Ethan whispered, “She wasn’t a hero or a villain. She was both.”
Nicholas looked out the window, his heart heavy.
And for the first time since Isabelle’s death, he realized—
She hadn’t just died.
She had disappeared herself from the world before it could consume her children.
Nicholas returned to New York just past midnight, jet-lagged and hollow. The Crimson Veil painting had been secured in a high-security Carter-owned vault, guarded under false registry and encrypted access. But it wasn’t safe from the truth it held.
Waiting in the study were Ava, Ethan, and Elise.
Ava stood the moment he walked in. “We know.”
Nicholas looked from her to Elise, who didn’t flinch under his gaze.
“I found the emails,” Ava said quietly. “Jonas Wells. The assignment. Everything.”
Nicholas nodded slowly, his jaw working.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked Elise.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?” he snapped. “From the truth? From yourself?”
“No,” Elise said firmly. “From the wreckage I helped create.”
She reached into her coat and pulled out a flash drive. “This contains all my communications with Jonas. Locations. Conversations. Bank details. I know how this works, Nicholas. If I’m lying, you’ll find it here.”
He took it with hesitation. “Why now?”
“Because I’m done lying,” she said. “And because I love them. All of them.”
Nicholas’s eyes flickered toward Ava and Ethan.
Then he turned away.
That morning, Ava sat in the vault room alone with the painting.
She had come early—before her father, before the noise.
The Crimson Veil was terrifyingly silent. In the dim light, the blood-hued figure of her mother seemed to weep from the canvas. The hidden symbols in the underlayers teased truths Ava wasn’t sure she wanted.
But something caught her eye.
In the lower left corner, beneath the varnish, barely visible—was a number.
"K-17-4-8."
She snapped a photo and ran to the mansion.
Ethan looked up from breakfast. “What’s that?”
“I think it’s a code,” she whispered. “Maybe coordinates. Or a cipher. Something she left for us.”
Nicholas entered seconds later.
“I’ve seen that pattern,” he said, breath catching. “In Isabelle’s will. The file name for one of the sealed documents.”
He pulled it from a drawer in his study, an untouched legal document marked “PRIVATE – TO BE OPENED ONLY IF…”
He never had the heart to look.
Inside, Isabelle had left instructions.
Coordinates.
A location outside Tarrytown, near the old woodland property where she once spent summers alone painting.
But there was more.
A key.
A literal one—small, silver, ornate.
With the initials I.C. engraved on the back.
“‘I.C.’?” Ethan asked.
“Isabelle Carter,” Nicholas said.
“No,” Ava corrected. “Isabelle Chambers. Her maiden name.”
By noon, the family drove to the site. Elise stayed behind without protest.
The property had long been abandoned. Overgrown, silent. Nature reclaiming what legacy had left behind.
Inside the cottage, the scent of dust and oil paint hung heavy. Everything had remained untouched—like a time capsule.
Nicholas moved to a locked wooden trunk beneath the staircase. The key clicked perfectly.
Inside were dozens of envelopes, paintings, and journals. Some signed. Some sealed. But one stood out.
A thick envelope labeled: “For My Children, When They Are Strong Enough to Know.”
Ava opened it with trembling hands.
Inside was a letter.
> “If you are reading this, then my sins have caught up to me. I was part of something dangerous, something beautiful and corrupt. I used my talent to create illusions—paintings filled with codes that mapped out money, movement, power. They called it art. It was war disguised in oil and canvas.
When I met your father, I ran. I left it all behind. But I always knew it would resurface.
They will tell you I was a monster. But I was also a mother. And I loved you.
This is my final painting. It’s not a confession.
It’s a map. Follow it. Or burn it. But know this: truth doesn’t kill. Silence does.”
Ava’s hands trembled.
Ethan whispered, “She wasn’t a hero or a villain. She was both.”
Nicholas looked out the window, his heart heavy.
And for the first time since Isabelle’s death, he realized—
She hadn’t just died.
She had disappeared herself from the world before it could consume her children.
End of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING Chapter 39. Continue reading Chapter 40 or return to THE LIE THAT WORE A RING book page.