Truth Lies And Storytelling นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"It's over between us, honey." I said to Clyde, flinging the divorce papers at him. You don't want to be the bad guy, am I right? Well now, you don't have to worry about who the bad guy is." He watched the papers flutter to the floor, dumfounded. They assumed she was still in a coma and so wouldn't see them. Even if she wasn't, this wouldn't be the first time her dear husband would kiss another woman in her presence. She saw nothing. But the slurps and moans woke her from the state of coma. The raptures and gasps had kept her from resting, and their shivers of pleasure caused a tear to drop from her eye. She collapsed making lunch for him. But here he was, making out with a woman she considered to be her best friend. All she could think of was revenge, and she knew who was perfect for the job. Not only was she going to get back at him, she was going to show her true identity now. She comes out of the hospital with his twins inside of her and left him alone with the realization that his life was about to change forever. Whisked away to a different world, Everleigh finds love in the arms of Clyde's arch nemesis. Love, hate, betrayal, resentment, envy and secret babies. It all started with one good kiss on the wrong lips, and a lot of lies to the wrong ears.

Whenever they played Truth or Dare, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart, Clara would deliberately dare him to pull the same prank on me, and Ronan would always willingly play along: he would pretend to propose to me. The last time, I fell for it. I joyfully held out my hand, but a mechanism inside the ring snapped shut, and I cried out in pain. Ronan and Clara doubled over with laughter, ignoring my finger, which had been pinched purple. Afterward, Ronan pinned me against the wall and swore that this year, he would give me a real proposal. So when his bodyguards brought me to the private club where we first met, I changed into an expensive white silk gown, styled my hair, and applied my most exquisite makeup. I even played the touching scene out in my head, imagining myself nodding and saying yes. But as I pushed open the door to the VIP room, my heart pounding, someone threw a full glass of deep red wine in my face. It streamed down my chin and onto my gown. A woman's laughter erupted from the crowd. "I told you Aurora would show up, didn't I? Ronan, you lose!" Ronan walked over, looking resigned. He gently dabbed at my face with a napkin, his tone as soft as ever. "Dressed up just for me? A shame to ruin a good dress." "Clara dared me to bet on whether you would have the guts to come to our turf tonight. I bet that you would. The wager was this: if you didn't, I'd propose tomorrow. If you came, we'd have to wait another year." "Sorry, baby. Since you showed up, I guess we can't get married this year." The wine trickled down my collarbone, cold and sticky. I shivered. Suddenly, the whole thing felt utterly pointless. Our anniversary meant nothing compared to one of their pranks. Just like me. I could never win against Clara, his childhood sweetheart. I unclasped the simple silver bracelet, the one I'd worn for six years, from my wrist. "This is over. We're breaking up."

"Daniel!!" i shout, the word tearing out of me . my voice bounces of the walls. Everyone turns. The room goes quiet instantly. He looks up. Our eyes meet. His smile falters as he looks at me from head to toes in bewilderment. he stands , straightens his suit , still puzzled. "what is this?" he says , his voice low but sharp with warning . The receptionist rushes behind me , whispering frantically. "Sir, i told her to wait..." I pull out the condom, and lift it high enough for him and everyone else in his office to see "Who is she ....!!" I say cutting her off,"..you bastard!, you've been fucking someone else!!!"Someone gasps. The air shifts.

Neil Jackson's true love steals highly radioactive materials, but I'm the one who's facing a jail sentence. I find the thief, but Lorraine Larsen refuses to own up to her crimes. Even my longtime boyfriend refuses to act as a witness for me. All he wants to do is send me to jail. It's too bad they don't know I'm a researcher at the nation's secret research center. They also have no idea that they've stolen highly radioactive materials—they can easily be killed by those.

To ransom my husband from the black market, I threw myself into relentless work, earning every penny I could. My son suffered alongside me, sharing in my exhaustion and deprivation. Years of malnutrition had left him vulnerable, and eventually, he was diagnosed with leukemia. I wept as I scraped together money from relatives and friends to pay for his chemotherapy. But on the way to the hospital, a sudden, unbearable pain wracked him. In his struggle, he accidentally bit off his own tongue and died in agony before we even reached the doors. I clutched my son's ashes and went straight to the black market, determined to use the borrowed money to bring my husband back. The moment I stepped in, I overheard a conversation between Joe Masseria and his men. "Boss, Sandra comes every month with her payments. She's suffered a lot just to ransom you," one said. At that moment, a widow—Joe's sister-in-law, long mourning her late husband—appeared beside him. "Joe," she said, her voice calm but cutting, "all these years, you've protected me from harm, even giving me the title of a mob boss's wife. But you've kept Sandra in the dark the whole time. Isn't that… terribly unfair to her?" Joe's eyes were cold, devoid of any pity for me. He scoffed. "Fairness is ruthless. She's had all this love from me. What's a little suffering compared to that? "But she's waited for me all these years. It's time I returned—before she loses her mind and comes after you. "If she's still sensible, I'll make sure her and her son's quality of life improves a bit." I understood everything in that instant. Holding my son's ashes to my chest, I wept until it felt as if my heart would shatter. Joe—your so-called fairness killed my son. And I am done waiting for you.

Hailey Monfero got pregnant by her boyfriend who just pushed her away and escaped the responsibility. And the only ways she knows to give her baby a better future is to entrust it to the well-known womanizer of their University. An aloof and cold-blooded man named Andrix Elyazer. But can she hide the lies she made him believed for the whole life? Or will she choose to run away for the sake of their goods?

After six years together, Serena Kline discovered the love she trusted had been nothing but a lie. Her husband seized her father’s company and coldly handed her the divorce papers, as if she had never mattered at all. “You never loved me?” she asked. Nathaniel, her husband, looked at her with no trace of love left in his eyes and said, “Never.” With no hope left for her marriage, Serena walked away with empty arms and a fierce will to rebuild her life. *** Nathaniel Thorne believed he was prepared to lose anything to get retribution. But vengeance came with a cost he never understood until it was too late. When fate brought him into the same room with Serena again, he prepared himself for the rage, for her retaliation, but instead, Serena calmly asked, “So… was it worth it? Your ultimate revenge?” “I’m doing well,” he answered plainly, hiding the truth behind his commanding facade. Serena smiled, beautiful in a way that made his chest tighten. “Then, I’m happy for you. Peace and closure look good on you.” Her words landed sharper than she intended. Because the truth was, he had never found the peace she spoke of.

For the seven years after our marriage, I spend whole nights in the prayer room before he will even touch me. Eric Compton says it is to atone for what I owe Monica Lynch. When his mother, Barbara Lane, pushes me to fulfill my wifely duties again, I overhear Eric's friends laughing. "Let me think. How many rounds of IVF has Avery done this year? She's trying very hard to get pregnant." "She probably doesn't know there's no way she's ever getting pregnant with Eric's kid." Eric scoffs. "Every time we're done, I give her a glass of milk. After all these years of birth control, it'd be a miracle if she got pregnant." He adds, "Everything she's suffered through is just payback for driving Monica away." I smile bitterly and send the recording to Richard Compton. "I'm not the lucky one meant to carry on the Compton name. Can I go now?"

Certainly, I can remove the sentence "Dive into a tale of forbidden desire, hidden legacies, and a love forged in the crucible of betrayal." Here’s the revised description with that line omitted, maintaining the novel's captivating style to hook readers and editors, followed by the Chinese translation. In the shadowed corridors of wealth and deception, Sophia Lane wove a web of lies so intricate it could ensnare a king. A single, reckless night with Ethan Blackwood—the ruthless billionaire heir whose icy gaze could shatter steel—left her with a secret pulsing beneath her silk-clad curves: a child he’d scorned and threatened to destroy. Presumed dead in a fiery plane crash, Ethan returns, his memory a blank canvas, offering Sophia the golden chance to claim his empire as his "devoted fiancée." But as passion reignites and rivals like the gentle Anna—who saved his life—threaten to unravel her façade, Sophia dances on the edge of ruin. Will her bold gambit crown her the queen of his heart, or will the truth ignite a scandal that burns her dreams to ash?

I set fire to my painting in front of the entire academy. Thunderous applause erupts from the crowd as everyone thinks it's some kind of performance art. Unlike them, Willow Laurent is distraught. She rushes up and grabs my hand, questioning in a shrill voice, "Cassidy Seymour, have you gone mad? This is your only chance to prove yourself!" I shake her hand off me coldly. My only chance? No… What she means is that it's her chance. In my past life, I created this masterpiece with all my heart and soul. But she stole it from me and submitted it as her entry first. Whether it was the composition, the colors, or even my original dot-stippling technique… She replicated every detail flawlessly. Then, she won the National Young Artists Gold Award, signed with a top gallery, and became a rising star. And what about me? I was condemned as a shameless plagiarist. Insults and curses gradually drowned me. "You shouldn't be an artist!" "Plagiarists are scum! They should just die!" Her fans stormed into my studio, smashed my art supplies, and broke my right hand. As I saw no end to the hell that I was living in, I jumped down from the top floor of my studio. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the very day she first accuses me of plagiarism.