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Chapter 19: Bitter betrayal
Last Updated:
2026-01-02 23:28:19
Latest chapter
The Lies We Call Love Chapter 19: Bitter betrayal
**Patricia’s POV** The house was finally quiet. Too quiet, really...like the kind of quiet that makes your skin prickle because you know it won’t last, so I had to act fast before I get caught. I’d spent the last hour tidying up the living room after breakfast: fluffing the throw pillows Mrs. Christopher insisted on having in every corner, wiping down the glass coffee table until it gleamed, vacuuming the Persian rug that probably cost more than my yearly salary. The kitchen was spotless too. I had done the dishes, wiped the counters, the faint scent of lemon cleaner still hanging in the air. I paused in the foyer, listening. No footsteps upstairs. No clatter from the kitchen. No Mrs. Christopher humming old jazz tunes while she arranged flowers. Mr. Warren had left for the office hours ago, looking sharp in that navy suit, briefcase in his hand, his jaw tight and face a little mean after whatever silent storm had passed between him and Jayla the night before. And Jayla… w
The Lies We Call Love Chapter 18: You don't deserve to know
**Jayla’s POV** Pain. That was the first thing that registered on my brain, a sharp, twisting pain, like someone had knifed me low in the belly and left the blade in. My eyelids felt glued shut, heavy as concrete. I forced them open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent light. Everything blurred at the edges, white walls, beeping machines, antiseptic smell burning my nose. My eyes opened and caught his physique. Daniel. Sitting right beside the bed, with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tight his knuckles were white. His eyes locked on me the second mine cracked open....dark, intense, and ofcourse unreadable. Judging. Accusing. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. My body felt too weak to even turn my head. He straightened instantly. “Jayla?” His voice cracked on my name. “You’re awake.” I tried to speak, but my throat was sandpaper. A weak croak escaped. “Hold on...don’t move,I'll be right back.” He shot to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over, and
The Lies We Call Love Chapter 17: I've got blood on my hands
**Daniel’s POV** The gala was in full swing, a glittering haze of champagne flutes and forced laughter echoing off the high ceilings. Politicians schmoozed, donors networked, and I played my part like always....shaking hands, dropping soundbites about policy reforms that would "change the game." But something felt off. Jayla. She'd been by my side earlier, her white dress a stark contrast to the sea of black tuxes and jewel-toned gowns, her smile which was always tight but holding. Now, she was gone. I'd scanned the room twice already, my eyes darting from one cluster of guests to the next. No sign of her. "Have you seen Jayla, my wife?" I asked a waiter passing with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, keeping my voice low to avoid drawing attention. He shook his head, barely pausing. "No, sir. Sorry." Frustration bubbled up. Where could she be? The bathroom? A quiet corner to catch her breath? She hadn't seemed right all night... she'd been distant, emotional. That tear on the red ca
The Lies We Call Love Chapter 16: One sip to shatter my miracle
**Jayla’s POV** I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the guest room, smoothing the white silk of my gown over my hips. The dress hugged every curve like it was made for me—off-the-shoulder neckline, thigh-high slit, elegant yet dangerous. My reflection stared back, flawless. Hair in loose waves, subtle makeup that made my eyes pop. Gosh, I looked beautiful. Powerful. Like the woman I used to be before everything shattered. I inhaled sharply, grabbed my clutch, and typed out a quick text to Warren. **Me:** Heading out now. Gala time. Wish me luck. Sent. Read. Those three little dots appeared, bouncing, teasing. My heart did a stupid flip. What would he say? *Don’t go?* *Come back to bed instead?* *Be safe?* Then—nothing. The dots vanished. I stared at the screen for five full seconds, waiting, willing them to return. They didn’t. “Fine,” I muttered, shoving the phone into my clutch and snapping it shut. Whatever. I didn’t need his reply. I didn’t need a
The Lies We Call Love Chapter 15: One deadly deadline
**Jayla’s POV** Mrs. Christopher stood there, hands on her hips, her eyes sparkling with that unshakeable mom energy that made resistance feel pointless. “Well? Don’t just stand there gawking! Kiss her now! You can’t leave here without kissing Jayla goodbye.” Warren froze halfway to the door, his briefcase dangling from one hand, tie perfectly knotted like he was about to conquer the boardroom. He turned slowly, his gaze landing on me where I sat at the dining table, still nursing the last of my coffee. My cheeks were already burning from the breakfast feeding fiasco, and now this? I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. Part of me wanted to laugh it off, wave him away, but Mrs. Christopher’s enthusiasm pinned us both in place. She thought we were the real deal...a whirlwind romance blooming right under her roof. She had no clue it was all for show, a convenient cover to keep Warren’s love life drama still and my messy life from spilling over. “Mom, come on,” Warren protested
The Lies We Call Love Chapter 14: Feed her, then kiss her
**Jayla’s POV** Sunlight filtered through the curtains, warm on my skin, but it was the weight around my waist that jolted me awake. Warren’s arm was draped over me, his hand curled possessively against my stomach, our bodies spooned together like we’d done this a thousand times. My heart slammed in my chest. I gasped, twisting just enough to peek under the covers—my clothes were still on, his too. Thank God. I let out a shaky sigh, sinking back against the pillow, but now I couldn’t unfeel him: his steady breath on my neck, the heat of his chest pressed to my back. He looked so peaceful asleep, with his lashes fanned out, lips slightly parted in that boyish way that made him seem less like a billionaire CEO and more like... well, someone I could wake up to every day. Those lips—soft, full, the kind that promised trouble. I bit my own, wondering what it’d be like to... I shifted gently, trying to slide out from under his arm without waking him. No such luck. His grip tightene
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