Deception Novels & Stories

Returning back to our conversation, I raise an eyebrow “How do you mean?” Flipping through the pages until she gets to the one she needs, she points to a passage and turns the book to me. “Well, here, where he talks about deception as a key tactic. It seems rather manipulative.” My eyes focus on her clean, slender fingers instead of the passage of the book she's showing me and when she drops her hand down, I know I completely missed the point. It's not like she noticed where my eyes were trained, anyway. “In war, deception can be a powerful tool. It's not about manipulation, but rather about gaining an advantage over your oppone

The room was filled with silence, vengeance, and pain. The realization of the fresh betrayal sent a wave of nausea through them. The depth of the deception, the sheer audacity of his performance, was staggering. He hadn't just delivered the worst form of betrayal, he had lived a complete lie for years, basking in the reflected glory of the family he was strategically destroying. He was a man no one would believe could hurt a fly.

she challenges me. “You will not be lying,” I say quickly and she raises an eyebrow. “Not telling her is not the same as lying,” I add, my tone more controlled now, but only just. “It’s called a lie of omission, Kumba,” she replies flatly. “And in this context, it’s just a more polite version of deception.” I exhale sharply, pacing once before stopping in front of her again. “You don’t understand,” I say, quieter now.

"Apparently it works on pimples too. She swore by it." "Irabella." My name in his mouth. One word. Said without inflection, without accusation — and somehow worse for both, because the absence of those things meant he wasn't reacting, meant he was still inside the calculation, still running the evidence against the instinct, and the instinct was not losing. "That's the truth." Another laugh, thinner than the first, the architecture of it starting to show. I kept my eyes on his and willed my pulse to slow and it refused completely. "Daemon, why would I need a scent-hiding potion? What would I even be hiding?"

“No. You made choices because you don’t trust me. Because somewhere, deep down, you still think I’m fragile enough to break if you told me the truth.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “That’s not fair.” “No, what’s not fair is me having to find out about the deals you’re making in my name from Alexei.” His jaw tightened. “ I screwed up, but I had my reasons. Alexie, he's just trying to manipulate you” “Don’t dare change the topic,” I said, voice shaking. “Do you think I’m dumb? That I can’t see what’s happening? Irina and Alexei are playing some twisted game, and you’re fighting back like I’m a prize to be won.”

my husband, my love, that was built on lies. “You didn’t marry me because you loved me,” I whispered. “You married me because I was compensated for my fathers life. For my ruined childhood!!.” And in that moment..I broke down and screamed. “So it was a Marriage of Deceit? It was all an orchestrated game for you all?”

She also looked, in this specific low light with a mug of tea and her hair down, like the most real thing in the room. "Other things," I said. Same answer as before. She would know what it meant. Her shoulder was against mine. Neither of us moved away. "I used to think I was good at reading people," she said. "Four years living with someone who was lying every day and I didn't see it. Or I saw pieces of it and explained them away because the alternative was too much to hold." "That's not a failure of perception," I said. "That's what sustained deception does to a person. It uses your own trust against you."

The pain and humiliation I had suffered from evaporated, replaced by stark lucidity. "Your thief-crying-thief skill is unmatched," I scoffed. "Who faked poverty? Paralysis? Who liquidated my dad's relic to curry favor with Mark? Who orchestrated a biennial drama solely to avenge him, delighting as I braved tempests to ferry your extravagant feast? You must have savored every moment, right? Who is the real cheater here?" My piercing stare shifted to Mark, noting the vacant finger where the ring once sat. I continued, "You two are the masked puppeteers, plotting, deceiving, and trampling genuine emotions underfoot."

"It is not without logic." "Yes," Sera said. "Their definition of deception is doing significant work," he said. "If the panel accepts that concealing her voice constitutes material deception the argument holds." "If," Cress said. "If," Finn confirmed. He looked at the document. "The question is what the concealment was in response to," he said. "Deception implies intent to deceive for personal gain." He looked at Sera. "What were you concealing from?" Sera looked at him. "A structure designed to punish accurate perception," she said.

Greg asked, “How do you know who to use if you can’t see who you were using?” Pellethia took a moment to ponder on how to explain the manipulation process in a manner that a non-decipio could understand, and she began, “Think of your minds as compartments. Each compartment is an aspect of you or your lives - love, fear, resentment, pride, and every other aspect. When we invade the general archives of your minds, we normally pull out only one specific material to deceive what you see. Stronger decipios can pull out more than one at a time. My personal record is eight. Rafael’s is ten. As great as that sounds, it’s actually not that mind-blowing if you explore the intricacies of our ability. H