THE LIE THAT WORE A RING - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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Nathaniel was smart.
Too smart, Alina thought.
That night, she watched from the second-floor landing as he crept down the stairs, tiptoeing toward the hallway where his mother’s photo had once sat on the table. He opened a drawer. He paused. Then slowly, he pulled the frame out.
She’d moved it. Not hidden. Just tucked away.
Let him find it.
Let him think he was winning.
By morning, it was back on Sophie’s shelf. Perched gently beside the broken doll Alina had accidentally knocked off days ago.
At breakfast, Nathaniel’s eyes cut toward her—sharp, suspicious.
She smiled sweetly across the table. “I noticed Sophie’s photo was missing yesterday. Must’ve gotten misplaced during the cleaning.”
Sophie looked relieved.
Dominic didn’t comment.
But Nathaniel didn’t look away.
He knew.
She just smiled wider and poured more juice.
That day, Dominic left for a business trip. Just two nights—nothing unusual. But the moment the front gate clicked shut behind his car, something inside the house changed.
The tension lifted—for everyone except the children.
Nathaniel stayed close to Sophie. He hovered beside her while she painted in the sunroom, helped her carry books, even made her bed before she could. Alina watched all of it with a tilt of the head and a glass of white wine in her hand.
“You’ve become quite the little protector,” she said to Nathaniel that evening. “Very noble.”
“I’m not protecting her from anything,” he answered quickly. Too quickly.
She gave a slow nod. “Of course you’re not.”
Then she left the room.
The next morning, Sophie refused to wear the new dress Alina had laid out.
“It’s too tight,” she said.
Alina crouched, smoothing the fabric. “No, darling. It fits perfectly.”
Sophie squirmed. “I want the blue one. Mommy got it for me.”
Alina’s expression didn’t change.
But her hand paused ever so slightly on the zipper.
Nathaniel stepped into the doorway. “She said no.”
Alina stood slowly. “Nathaniel, this is between Sophie and me.”
“You’re not her mom,” he said, his voice low.
The words were quiet, but they hit like thunder.
Sophie’s breath caught.
Alina stared at him, long and unblinking.
Then she smiled.
“You’re right. I’m not,” she said calmly. “But I’m the one here. I’m the one who cooks for her. Helps her with homework. Braids her hair. Loves her, even when she throws tantrums and slams doors.”
She turned to Sophie.
“Do you want to keep living in a house full of ghosts, or do you want a life that still has light?”
Sophie’s eyes welled up. She looked between them—her brother, her stepmother—and didn’t answer.
That was enough.
Alina walked away, leaving the dress folded neatly on the bed.
That night, Nathaniel went into his father’s study. Not to snoop. To write.
He composed an email to his dad.
He told him everything: how Alina had moved the photo, how Sophie cried more now, how the staff had started to act different.
But just before he hit “send,” he heard the creak of a floorboard behind him.
He turned—heart pounding.
Alina stood in the shadows.
“You’re very brave,” she said quietly. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”
Nathaniel stood slowly. “What?”
She walked closer.
“I don’t need to make you love me,” she whispered. “I just need to make him believe you do.”
She leaned in, so close he could smell the lavender perfume on her wrist.
“And I’ve already started.”
When Dominic returned home the next day, Sophie ran to him. Hugged him. Smiled brightly.
Nathaniel stood at the top of the stairs, silent.
Alina stepped into Dominic’s arms like a dream, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “The kids missed you so much.”
Dominic looked up at his son. “Everything okay, Nate?”
Nathaniel opened his mouth.
Paused.
And said, “Yeah. Fine.”
Alina gave him a nod from below. Almost invisible. Almost smug.
Game on.
Too smart, Alina thought.
That night, she watched from the second-floor landing as he crept down the stairs, tiptoeing toward the hallway where his mother’s photo had once sat on the table. He opened a drawer. He paused. Then slowly, he pulled the frame out.
She’d moved it. Not hidden. Just tucked away.
Let him find it.
Let him think he was winning.
By morning, it was back on Sophie’s shelf. Perched gently beside the broken doll Alina had accidentally knocked off days ago.
At breakfast, Nathaniel’s eyes cut toward her—sharp, suspicious.
She smiled sweetly across the table. “I noticed Sophie’s photo was missing yesterday. Must’ve gotten misplaced during the cleaning.”
Sophie looked relieved.
Dominic didn’t comment.
But Nathaniel didn’t look away.
He knew.
She just smiled wider and poured more juice.
That day, Dominic left for a business trip. Just two nights—nothing unusual. But the moment the front gate clicked shut behind his car, something inside the house changed.
The tension lifted—for everyone except the children.
Nathaniel stayed close to Sophie. He hovered beside her while she painted in the sunroom, helped her carry books, even made her bed before she could. Alina watched all of it with a tilt of the head and a glass of white wine in her hand.
“You’ve become quite the little protector,” she said to Nathaniel that evening. “Very noble.”
“I’m not protecting her from anything,” he answered quickly. Too quickly.
She gave a slow nod. “Of course you’re not.”
Then she left the room.
The next morning, Sophie refused to wear the new dress Alina had laid out.
“It’s too tight,” she said.
Alina crouched, smoothing the fabric. “No, darling. It fits perfectly.”
Sophie squirmed. “I want the blue one. Mommy got it for me.”
Alina’s expression didn’t change.
But her hand paused ever so slightly on the zipper.
Nathaniel stepped into the doorway. “She said no.”
Alina stood slowly. “Nathaniel, this is between Sophie and me.”
“You’re not her mom,” he said, his voice low.
The words were quiet, but they hit like thunder.
Sophie’s breath caught.
Alina stared at him, long and unblinking.
Then she smiled.
“You’re right. I’m not,” she said calmly. “But I’m the one here. I’m the one who cooks for her. Helps her with homework. Braids her hair. Loves her, even when she throws tantrums and slams doors.”
She turned to Sophie.
“Do you want to keep living in a house full of ghosts, or do you want a life that still has light?”
Sophie’s eyes welled up. She looked between them—her brother, her stepmother—and didn’t answer.
That was enough.
Alina walked away, leaving the dress folded neatly on the bed.
That night, Nathaniel went into his father’s study. Not to snoop. To write.
He composed an email to his dad.
He told him everything: how Alina had moved the photo, how Sophie cried more now, how the staff had started to act different.
But just before he hit “send,” he heard the creak of a floorboard behind him.
He turned—heart pounding.
Alina stood in the shadows.
“You’re very brave,” she said quietly. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”
Nathaniel stood slowly. “What?”
She walked closer.
“I don’t need to make you love me,” she whispered. “I just need to make him believe you do.”
She leaned in, so close he could smell the lavender perfume on her wrist.
“And I’ve already started.”
When Dominic returned home the next day, Sophie ran to him. Hugged him. Smiled brightly.
Nathaniel stood at the top of the stairs, silent.
Alina stepped into Dominic’s arms like a dream, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “The kids missed you so much.”
Dominic looked up at his son. “Everything okay, Nate?”
Nathaniel opened his mouth.
Paused.
And said, “Yeah. Fine.”
Alina gave him a nod from below. Almost invisible. Almost smug.
Game on.
End of THE LIE THAT WORE A RING Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to THE LIE THAT WORE A RING book page.