Deception 100 Novels & Stories

I settled for that, not wanting to give him more fuel. “But you were almost convincing,” he continued, not letting it go. “You have a way of getting to my Mom, playing on her sympathy, hitting her soft spots. I must say, that’s very clever.” “Oh please, you don’t know me at all to judge me so easily. I don’t care what you think of me. Suit yourself and believe what you want.” I retorted angrily, finally losing my patience. “Oh come on, I do know what kind of person you are. You’re nothing but a disgusting, deceiving hypocrite.” His words were sharp as glass.

The performance required precision. Not deception in the broad sense — she was not a wolf who could sustain a comprehensive lie across multiple contexts without the seams showing, and she knew this about herself with the same clarity she knew everything. What she was good at was selective truth: showing the parts of a thing that were real while controlling which parts were visible and to whom.

Who had made one call and taken twenty billion dollars off the table like it was a rounding error. Who had crossed a cafeteria floor today and dropped the temperature by several degrees with nothing but his presence and his silence and the specific weight of his attention aimed at one woman holding roses that weren't from him. Derek turned the phone over in his hand. Looked at the ceiling. Let the laugh come — low, private, the kind that didn't need an audience because it came from somewhere too honest to perform. Acting all superior. The laugh built. Almighty Daemon in his glass tower with his pressed suits and his pack and his obsession that he's not even smart enough to be honest about.

It came from the weight of the unspoken. From that handwritten note left on his desk: Who else accessed this file? From the strange symphony of errors that seemed in tune—but fell out of key when you truly listened. Victoria showed up in too many corners of those failures. Not signing. Not speaking. Just present. Watching. Suggestive. Serene. And that—that was the unsettling part. Because Benjamín understood strategy. He knew manipulation when he saw it. And what he was seeing wasn’t random. It was design.

she said, voice full of fake calm and executive delusion. Her mother blinked. “For T*****r?” “TikTok? I*******m? MySpace? Girl, I don’t know,” Deja waved a hand like she was erasing the whole conversation. “The point is: it was art. Performance. Black girl method acting. Can we all collectively mind our business and pretend this never happened?” Before anyone could answer, Deja froze. Floating above each family member’s head were glowing little bars—Affection Meters—maxed out at 100%. Her dad, 100%. Mom, 100%. Trevor, Nico, even the Earl in Trevor’s arms—100%.

Conversations taken out of context, interactions filmed from deceptive angles, all edited together to tell a story that was completely false but looked convincingly real. The video showed Desi and Otto's supposed affair in detail. Timestamps, locations, intimate moments that had never actually happened but looked authentic when spliced together with professional editing software. I'd upload it to a burner account tomorrow at 8 PM. Right before security found them together in the restricted basement. The video would go viral instantly, students sharing it before anyone could verify authenticity. By the time fact-checkers proved it was fake, the damage would be done. Otto would believe Desi ha

"Why should I suffer after being cheated on? Is it really enough for me to just let her leave empty-handed? Maybe that's just what they want so that they could play happy family while I lose everything. If that happens, I will lose both my pride and money." With that thought in mind, I pulled over and bought three packs of the abortion medicine. The man said they were disguised as regular prenatal supplements but had subtle counteracting properties. Even professionals wouldn't be able to tell if anything was wrong with it. Plus, it would be impossible to detect something wrong with the medicine since the effect was slow. When I got home, Vicky was lounging on the sofa in a silk dress. She wa

Their eyes widen, but I’m not finished. “I’ve seen it all. The bribery. The manipulation. The lies. And today, I’m here to expose the truth. Everything he built, everything he stole, it’s based on nothing but deception. And now... it’s mine.” I snap my fingers, and the large screen behind me flickers to life. Document after document appears—every illegal transaction, every shady deal, and the audience gasps. But this isn’t enough. I need them to feel it. I need them to see it in their bones. I hit play on the video. The screen shows my grandfather in his office, speaking to a young girl. The footage doesn’t lie. It captures every moment—his lies, his manipulation.

Then he thought he would be able to get Laurie cheaply just like the way he got and user other girls. As she finished speaking, Laurie went back to her seat beautifully. James admired her every moves and concluded that she is really a beautiful lady. But he is a man of pride and he doesn't compliment, beg or persuade. He gets anything he wants forcefully and deceitfully. Then he plans on getting Laurie that way too.

he spoke, lightly tapping on her tear stained cheeks. “You don't want to believe that your love has deceived you,” he grinned, turning more barbaric. His choice of words ached her soul. He was confessing such brutal things to her with no shame or guilt. He was not looking guilty to confess that he had broken her soul with his betrayal and it hurt her beyond her endurance. “Then ask yourself whether Armando Zelvasco has deceived Flora Alfanso by showing himself as Easton Marzel in front of her or……she paused and thrusted her face closer to his. She gazed into his light cerulean orbs with nothing but pain and pain.