All Chapters of His Untold Lies: Chapter 131 - Chapter 135

KiannaThe screen of the phone felt like a hot coal in my hand. I stared at the video—once, twice, three times—until the images burned into my retinas. There he was. My Ares. The man who wore faded hoodies and complained about the rising cost of groceries. He stood on a stage, draped in a custom-tailored suit that cost more than our combined annual income, while a crowd of elite socialites applauded him as the CEO of Vueravista."It’s not me, Kianna," Nathan said, his voice dropping into the quiet of the office. "He’s been playing you. For a year, he’s been wearing a mask."I didn’t want to look at Nathan. I couldn't. I pushed his hand away, my movements jerky and uncoordinated. My mind raced, trying to bridge the gap between the man who made me coffee every morning and the titan on the screen. Was his kindness just a performance? Was our "modest" home nothing more than a stage set? The thought of his parents—the people who welcomed me with such warmth—made my stomach turn. Were they i

The air in the villa grew heavy, suffocating. Madam Buenavista watched the back of Kianna’s coat as she marched toward the gates, her pace relentless and unforgiving."Kianna! Wait!"The call echoed against the high stone walls, but the girl didn't turn. She didn't even slow down. Madam Buenavista’s hands tightened against her own skirt, the fabric bunching under her knuckles. Her heart skipped, a sharp, irregular flutter in her chest. She stood frozen for a moment, watching the gate swing shut, before spinning toward the shadows of the hallway."Get my son," she commanded, her voice thin but sharp as glass. A maid hurried from the corner, eyes averted. "Call him. Tell him to find Kianna. Now. Tell him it’s an emergency—the kind he can't ignore."The maid dipped her head and vanished, leaving Madam Buenavista alone in the silence. She gripped the back of a mahogany chair, her knuckles turning white, wondering if it was already too late to put the pieces back together....AresThe boar

KiannaThe boutique smelled of expensive silk and static electricity. Mr. Sergio, a man whose hands moved with the precision of a surgeon, cinched the measuring tape tight against my waist. I stood on a low wooden dais, my reflection fragmented across a wall of mirrors. Every time I breathed, the tape dug into my ribs, a sharp reminder that this was actually happening.Once he finished, I shed the heavy silk sample and met Miaree and Marcy near the display racks. The air felt lighter.Marcy held up a dress. The fabric was the color of moss after a rainstorm. "Look, Kia. This shade brings out your skin tone. It’s perfect for the reception."I touched the cloth. It felt cool, grounding. An idea flickered in my mind, then caught fire. "Wait. What if we didn't just pick colors for the reception? What if we made the whole wedding... green? And pink? Like a forest coming into bloom." My pulse quickened. "A nature theme. Simple, wild, and quiet."Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.My phone vibrated against my