LIES WE LOVED

LIES WE LOVED 6 - 9

CHAPTER 6 — THE PHOTO

Mia waited until she was back in her hotel room before opening the folder. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she flipped through the contents.

Inside were newspaper clippings — “Local Teen Killed in Late-Night Crash” — police reports with sections crossed out or redacted, and photos of the accident scene. The wrecked car, the skid marks, the flowers left at the roadside memorial. Mia’s stomach turned as she looked at them — she hadn’t seen these in years. She’d tried so hard to forget.

But there was something else too. Tucked between two reports was a photograph she didn’t recognize. It was taken at the edge of the crash site, in the early hours of the morning. Standing near the police tape, looking down at the wreckage with a devastated expression, was Lucas.

Dated twelve years ago.

Mia dropped the photo, her blood turning to ice. Lucas was here then? He’d been at the accident scene, on the very night it happened. But he’d never mentioned it. Never said a word.

All the pieces fell into place — his intensity, his questions, the way he looked at her as if he knew a secret she hadn’t told him. He hadn’t come to this movie by chance. He’d come for her. He’d been planning this for twelve years.

Her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

Now you know.

CHAPTER 7 — CONFRONTATION BY THE SEA

Mia didn’t sleep that night. At dawn, she walked down to the beach, the photo clutched tightly in her hand. She knew where he’d be — she’d seen him here once before, watching the sunrise when everyone else was still asleep.

And there he was. Standing at the water’s edge, hands in his pockets, staring out at the gray horizon. He looked as if he’d been there for hours.

Mia walked up beside him, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it over the sound of the waves. She pulled the photo from her pocket and held it out between them.

“Explain this,” she said, her voice steady despite everything.

He glanced at it, his expression calm — too calm. “I was wondering how long it would take you to find out.”

“Find out what?” Her voice rose. “You were there. You were at the accident scene. You knew — you must have known — and you didn’t say anything. Why are you here, Lucas? Is this some kind of sick game? Did you send the messages?”

Lucas turned to face her, and for the first time, she saw the raw pain in his eyes — pain that matched her own. “It’s not a game. And I didn’t send any messages. My brother was the one who died in that accident. His name was Adrian. He was nineteen years old, full of plans, full of life. And I spent years trying to find out what really happened that night.”

Mia’s mind reeled. “Adrian… he never mentioned he had a brother. He never talked about his family.”

“We weren’t close then,” Lucas said quietly. “But when he died, I had to know the truth. I found out you were involved, that you’d gone on to become a successful actress, that you’d never publicly acknowledged your role in what happened. I came to this production with one goal: to make you face what you did.”

Mia sank onto a nearby rock, her legs weak beneath her. “I was driving. I was the one behind the wheel. I lost control. I’ve carried that guilt every single day.”

“Were you?” Lucas’s voice was sharp, but not cruel. “Because the more I dug into the records, the more inconsistencies I found. The police report was incomplete. Witness statements were contradictory. And the most damning evidence — the physical evidence from the car — went missing from the evidence locker years ago.”

“What are you saying?” Mia looked up at him, her heart pounding.

“I’m saying maybe the story you’ve been telling yourself all these years isn’t the whole truth. Maybe you weren’t the only one driving that car. Maybe you weren’t the only one responsible for what happened.”

CHAPTER 8 — THE GUILT

The conversation that followed changed everything.

They sat on the rocks by the sea for hours, talking — really talking — for the first time. Lucas told her about Adrian — his brother’s dreams, his laughter, the way he’d been just starting to figure out who he was. Mia told him about that night — the confusion, the fear, the way her father had stepped in immediately and told her exactly what to say.

“I remember waking up in the hospital,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “Dad was there. He told me the police had everything under control. That I’d been driving, that I’d made a mistake, but that he’d handle it. He said if I told anyone anything different, I’d ruin my life — and his. So I believed him. I’ve believed him for twelve years.”

“Your father was a powerful man even back then,” Lucas said. “He had connections. Influence. Money. It wouldn’t have been hard to make things disappear.”

“But why would he do that? Why would he lie?”

“To protect you,” Lucas said. “Or to protect himself. Or both. The question is — do you want to know the truth? Even if it hurts?”

Mia looked out at the ocean, the waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. For twelve years, she’d run from the truth. She’d hidden from it, buried it under work and success and silence. But it had found her anyway. And now, standing here with Lucas, she realized she didn’t want to run anymore.

“I want to know,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. “Help me find out what really happened that night.”

Lucas nodded, something shifting in his expression — resolve, yes, but also something softer. “Then we do this together. No more secrets. No more lies. Whatever we find, we face it — together.”

CHAPTER 9 — ELENA

The next morning, they went to see Elena Cruz. If anyone could help them untangle the mess, it was the journalist whose reputation was built on uncovering exactly these kinds of secrets.

Elena listened without interrupting as Mia explained everything — the accident, her guilt, Lucas’s revelation, the inconsistencies in the report. When she finished, Elena pulled a thick binder from her bookshelf and opened it on the desk between them.

“I’ve been investigating your father for months,” Elena said, looking directly at Mia. “He’s been involved in some questionable business dealings, and he’s used his influence to cover up more than just financial problems. I had no idea this accident was connected, but it makes sense — perfect, terrible sense.”

She turned the pages, revealing documents Mia had never seen — bank transfers, witness statements that had been retracted, phone records. “Your father paid Carlo a significant sum of money two weeks after the accident. Enough to buy him a house, enough to start over somewhere else. And there are records of payments to other people too — people who were there that night.”

“He bought their silence,” Mia said, her voice hollow.

“It appears so,” Elena said gently. “And there’s something else. The autopsy report — it lists Adrian’s time of death as 2:17 AM. But a witness statement I found — from a nurse who was at the scene — says he was still alive at 2:45. And that someone was with him in his final moments. Someone who wasn’t you, and wasn’t Carlo.”

Mia’s breath caught. “Who?”

“She didn’t see his face. But she described him — well-dressed, calm. Not panicked, not like the rest of you. He stayed until the ambulance arrived, then left without giving his name.” Elena looked up at them, her eyes serious. “Someone else was there that night. Someone who hasn’t been accounted for.”

---to be continue---