Truth Be Told Review Novels & Stories

"Hopefully." He forced a smile. "I'll go now. Have a nice day," and he bade the both of them before leaving the house. Adelina stared at herself in the mirror. Was she wrong to have started this lie? Yes, she felt it. But she also thought it was the best way to forget him for good. Jonathan was always going to be the same arrogant, womanizer she had met a couple of years back and she felt stupid to have thought for a second, that he could change because of her. For her.

“Then… how can I know what’s real? How do I know you’re telling me the truth now?” Her hands trembled—not with weakness, but with controlled fury. “Because sometimes the truth isn’t clean. Sometimes it’s ugly, and it hurts, and it makes people doubt the ones they love the most. Maybe… maybe you’re ready for the ugly truth, maybe you’re not. But stop pretending everything is black and white!”

"Found evidence of seven more baby trafficking cases. Other families Irene victimized." Beverly was silent for a long moment. Then she signed: "Those poor families. Finding out their whole lives were built on Irene's lies." "Like us," Diro said. "Like us," Beverly agreed. "But they'll know now. The truth. Maybe that brings some peace." "Does it?" Beverly asked. "Does knowing the truth bring you peace?" Diro considered. "Some. Not complete peace. But knowing is better than not knowing. Even when the truth is terrible, at least it's honest. You can build on honesty. You can't build on lies."

On New Year's Eve, Gwen Hurst and I attended a reunion with our old classmates. After several rounds of drinks, someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. Gwen was the first to lose and drew Truth. "What was your biggest regret when it came to love?" She answered without hesitation, but her gaze kept drifting toward her first love, Nikolas Stratton, who was sitting nearby. "My greatest regret was not ending up with the person I loved most. Instead, I married my backup and settled for a life of compromise." The room erupted in shock. Everyone thought I would storm out in anger, but I only smiled and gestured for the game to continue. When it was my turn, the question became, "Have you ev

“Calm. Reliable. Clean.” Her voice lowered on the last word. “That version of you works,” she continued. “It’s convincing. But it only exists because the truth stayed buried.” My expression remained unchanged, but my focus sharpened completely. “There is no truth to expose,” I said. She let out a soft laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong,” she replied. “There’s always a version of the truth that people are willing to believe. Especially when it comes from someone who was there.” I said nothing and she continued.

Eventhough Rowan had still not accepted to do it yet. I listened to every word. And with every word, something quiet and uncomfortable shifted inside me. Rowan had said we had let Sasha become a spoiled entitled brat by not telling her the truth of when i was uncomfortable or when she had assumed the wrong thing. So if i didnt tell her the truth now, wouldnt I be doing that again? So with a sigh, I cleared my throat and decided to tell her the truth. "Sasha," I said carefully when she paused, "Firstly you know my blog is built on honesty and trust. My readers trust me because I tell the truth and don't write promotional pieces. And some of the things you're describing— they are--- " I stoppe

And in doing so— He had exposed himself. But exposure isn’t defeat. It’s just another phase. Because now— He would respond. Not with perception. Not with pressure. But with something else. Something bigger. Something final. And as I stood there, watching the city glow beneath us, one thought settled in with absolute certainty— We had just uncovered the truth. But truth— Is only powerful if it’s believed.

“Just… be careful. The world loves honesty until it threatens their comfort.” His words lingered long after the call ended. That night, Roman and I sat in the living room, scrolling through the hundreds of emails and messages. “You know,” he said, setting his phone down, “if this keeps up, you could turn this into something real. A brand, a platform—hell, even a book.” I laughed softly. “You make it sound like I planned this.” “Maybe you didn’t,” he said, “but you have something people want—truth. You don’t sugarcoat your pain, and that’s what makes it powerful.”

No bullshit. When the red light blinked on, I stared straight into the lens. "My name is Taylor. You've been fed lies about me. Let me tell you the truth." My voice was calm, steady—deader than the drama they wanted. "I raised my siblings before I learned to drive. I worked jobs that broke my back so they could have shoes that fit. That's not a secret—it's my fucking resume." I leaned in, letting the camera see every raw detail. "Yes, I was with Dylan. Leaving him felt like pulling my own spine out—and it was the best surgery I ever performed. He showed me what evil looks like in designer clothes."

He insisted I crouch by the door to listen to their voices. "On October 6th was Xavier's birthday. I summoned the courage to tell him the truth, but he said he would only listen if I finished all the cream on the cake on the table. He knew I was allergic to cream and couldn't eat any." ... The notebook contained records of events from nearly four years. With every page I read, my body temperature dropped, and countless images flashed through my mind, like someone stabbing me with a knife, causing excruciating pain. It was him, the man I dreamed about, Xavier Quinn.