THE LIE THAT WORE A RING - Chapter 42: Chapter 42
You are reading THE LIE THAT WORE A RING, Chapter 42: Chapter 42. Read more chapters of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING.
When you hold a secret that can burn the world, the question isn’t if you’ll light the match—it’s when.
The fire crackled in the study fireplace, its glow washing over Nicholas’s face as he stared at the box of Craven Hall files. Ava sat opposite him, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes fixed on the unfinished painting. Ethan paced the rug, unable to sit still.
They had the truth.
Every detail. Every name. Every ruinous deal that spanned two decades and spanned continents. If they exposed it, governments would fall. Empires would crumble. Billionaires would rot.
But the fallout would come for them too.
Ava finally broke the silence. “If we release this, we’ll never live normal lives again.”
Nicholas nodded. “And if we don’t, more people like Isabelle will keep getting destroyed.”
Ethan paused mid-step. “We’re just people. This… this is bigger than us.”
“Which is exactly why we can’t ignore it,” Ava said quietly.
Elise stepped in, holding mugs of tea, her face pale. “There’s no going back if you expose them. You’ll have targets on your backs. The moment Craven Hall senses betrayal, they eliminate it.”
Ava turned to her. “You knew this was the endgame all along, didn’t you?”
Elise hesitated. Then: “Yes. And I hoped you’d never reach it.”
That night, Nicholas stayed awake reading the files. Some were filled with figures, auction codes, offshore shell accounts. Others were personal—emails between “The Broker” and world leaders, messages that hinted at blackmail, manipulation, and even assassinations masked as “accidents.”
But one file stunned him.
A letter from Isabelle. Sent to Vincent Hale one week before her death.
> “I can’t do it anymore. I love Nicholas too much to drag him into this. I’m taking the painting and disappearing. Let Craven hunt me if they must—but my children will not live in this shadow. I’d rather vanish than risk them.”
Nicholas’s hand trembled.
His wife hadn’t died running away.
She’d died protecting them.
And now, they had a choice: protect her legacy or expose her secret.
The next morning, Ethan burst into the study holding a torn envelope. His voice shook.
“This was just delivered. No return address.”
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
> We know what you have.
Decide quickly. You’re not the only ones with fire.
Taped to the bottom was a photo.
Of Ava—walking to campus. Taken from a distance. Clearly that same morning.
She paled.
“They’re watching us.”
Nicholas took the paper and handed it to Elise. “Trace it. I want to know where it came from.”
“I’ll handle it,” she said, already dialing someone.
Ava folded her arms. “So what now? Do we give in?”
“No,” Nicholas said, his voice cold and calm. “We go forward. But on our terms.”
By sundown, Nicholas had made a plan.
They would digitize the files, encrypt the information, and send it anonymously to three trusted sources—an independent journalist, a human rights organization, and a global security watchdog.
But not yet.
First, they needed leverage. Insurance. Protection.
“If Craven Hall knows we can leak everything,” Nicholas told them, “they won’t touch us. Not right away.”
“But eventually,” Elise said carefully, “they will try to silence you.”
Nicholas nodded. “Then we make sure that when they come for us—what we’ve started is too far gone to stop.”
Later that night, Ava stood alone before the unfinished painting. Her mother’s eyes stared back at her from within the crimson swirl of shadows.
“I wish I could ask you what to do,” she whispered.
She picked up a paintbrush.
And slowly, with steady hands, began to finish the image.
Not with blood.
But with light.
The fire crackled in the study fireplace, its glow washing over Nicholas’s face as he stared at the box of Craven Hall files. Ava sat opposite him, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes fixed on the unfinished painting. Ethan paced the rug, unable to sit still.
They had the truth.
Every detail. Every name. Every ruinous deal that spanned two decades and spanned continents. If they exposed it, governments would fall. Empires would crumble. Billionaires would rot.
But the fallout would come for them too.
Ava finally broke the silence. “If we release this, we’ll never live normal lives again.”
Nicholas nodded. “And if we don’t, more people like Isabelle will keep getting destroyed.”
Ethan paused mid-step. “We’re just people. This… this is bigger than us.”
“Which is exactly why we can’t ignore it,” Ava said quietly.
Elise stepped in, holding mugs of tea, her face pale. “There’s no going back if you expose them. You’ll have targets on your backs. The moment Craven Hall senses betrayal, they eliminate it.”
Ava turned to her. “You knew this was the endgame all along, didn’t you?”
Elise hesitated. Then: “Yes. And I hoped you’d never reach it.”
That night, Nicholas stayed awake reading the files. Some were filled with figures, auction codes, offshore shell accounts. Others were personal—emails between “The Broker” and world leaders, messages that hinted at blackmail, manipulation, and even assassinations masked as “accidents.”
But one file stunned him.
A letter from Isabelle. Sent to Vincent Hale one week before her death.
> “I can’t do it anymore. I love Nicholas too much to drag him into this. I’m taking the painting and disappearing. Let Craven hunt me if they must—but my children will not live in this shadow. I’d rather vanish than risk them.”
Nicholas’s hand trembled.
His wife hadn’t died running away.
She’d died protecting them.
And now, they had a choice: protect her legacy or expose her secret.
The next morning, Ethan burst into the study holding a torn envelope. His voice shook.
“This was just delivered. No return address.”
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
> We know what you have.
Decide quickly. You’re not the only ones with fire.
Taped to the bottom was a photo.
Of Ava—walking to campus. Taken from a distance. Clearly that same morning.
She paled.
“They’re watching us.”
Nicholas took the paper and handed it to Elise. “Trace it. I want to know where it came from.”
“I’ll handle it,” she said, already dialing someone.
Ava folded her arms. “So what now? Do we give in?”
“No,” Nicholas said, his voice cold and calm. “We go forward. But on our terms.”
By sundown, Nicholas had made a plan.
They would digitize the files, encrypt the information, and send it anonymously to three trusted sources—an independent journalist, a human rights organization, and a global security watchdog.
But not yet.
First, they needed leverage. Insurance. Protection.
“If Craven Hall knows we can leak everything,” Nicholas told them, “they won’t touch us. Not right away.”
“But eventually,” Elise said carefully, “they will try to silence you.”
Nicholas nodded. “Then we make sure that when they come for us—what we’ve started is too far gone to stop.”
Later that night, Ava stood alone before the unfinished painting. Her mother’s eyes stared back at her from within the crimson swirl of shadows.
“I wish I could ask you what to do,” she whispered.
She picked up a paintbrush.
And slowly, with steady hands, began to finish the image.
Not with blood.
But with light.
End of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING Chapter 42. Continue reading Chapter 43 or return to THE LIE THAT WORE A RING book page.