Whispers of Deception

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

T he front door closed with a soft click, its sound swallowed by the stillness that filled the small house. Lilia paused in the entryway, her eyes tracing the familiar contours of the space that she had known all her life. Compared to the sprawling, manicured lawns and estates in Mills Creek, her home was modest, almost claustrophobic. The narrow hallway led to a living room that was more functional than inviting, its neutral tones and minimal decorations reflecting her mother’s pragmatic nature. A wall of framed certificates and awards dominated one side of the room, each one a silent testament to her mother’s accomplishments and the expectations placed on Lilia’s shoulders to succeed in the ways that she had.

The house always felt too small, too confining, especially on nights like this, when the weight of everything seemed to press down on her from all sides. Mills Creek was a town where secrets had no place, where reputations hung like knives, poised to strike at the first sign of weakness. Everyone knew everything there was to know about everyone, and the pressure to maintain a pristine image was suffocating. It was a place where a single misstep could unravel everything.

Lilia took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She had barely kicked her shoes off when her mother’s voice cut through the silence.

“Lilia, we need to talk,” her mother called from the kitchen, her tone sharp with disapproval.

Lilia’s stomach twisted with dread as she made her way down the hall. The kitchen was as spotless as ever, every surface gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Her mother stood by the sink, washing the same glass over and over, her movements tense and mechanical.

Lilia knew this routine all too well; it was her mother’s way of holding onto control when everything else seemed to be slipping away.

“What were you thinking?” her mother began, turning to face Lilia with eyes that blazed with a mixture of anger and fear. “Do you have any idea how this looks? How this reflects on us? On you?”

“I didn’t—” Lilia started, but her mother cut her off.

“You didn’t think that’s the problem,” her mother snapped, setting the glass down with a sharp clink. “You were found at the cemetery in the middle of the night, Lilia. At Willow Montgomery’s grave, of all places! What were you even doing there? Do you have any idea how badly this could hurt you? How badly could this hurt me?”

Lilia felt her chest tighten, the guilt and frustration that she had been holding back all day threatening to spill over. “Mom, it’s not like that. We didn’t?—”

“Then what was it like?” her mother interrupted, her voice rising in pitch. “You think people are going to care about your intentions? No, they’re going to see a girl who should have known better, who should be more careful, and wonder what on earth she was doing there.”

Her mother’s words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Lilia’s gaze dropped to the floor, her throat tight with unshed tears. She knew her mother was right, in a way. In Mills Creek, appearances were everything. It didn’t matter if she was innocent; it mattered how it looked.

Her mother’s tone softened slightly, but the worry in her eyes was unmistakable. “You have more to lose than the rest of them, Lilia. You know that. You’re different. You have to be smarter, more careful than the rest.”

The unspoken words lingered between them, a reminder of all the ways Lilia’s life was shaped by expectations she couldn’t escape. Her mother had worked so hard to get to where she was—a successful lawyer in a town where reputations were currency. She expected the same drive, the same ambition from her daughter.

And it was more than just the professional success at stake; it was survival in a town that would tear you apart if you gave it the chance.

“Mom, they’re my friends,” Lilia said, her voice barely above a whisper. “They’re not?—”

“They’re trouble,” her mother said firmly, her eyes hardening. “They’re going to drag you down, and you’ll be the one who suffers for it. Do you think they’ll be there when you need them? When everything falls apart? No, Lilia. They don’t have to fight the same battles. They don’t carry the same expectations.”

Lilia flinched at the harshness of her mom’s words, but she couldn’t deny the truth in them. Her friends were all she had in this town, the only people who made her feel like she belonged. But they weren’t the ones who had to navigate the minefield of being the daughter of a Chinese American lawyer in a place like Mills Creek. They didn’t have to deal with the constant scrutiny, and the unspoken pressure to be perfect in a world that was always waiting for her to fail.

“Are you doing this because of your father?” she asked quietly, her voice softening. “I know you miss him. But you can’t let that grief pull you away from what’s important. You have to think about your future, about the kind of life you want to have.”

Lilia’s throat tightened, at the mention of her father cutting through her like a knife. He had been the one who balanced out her mother’s strictness, who had encouraged her to find her path. But he was gone, and now it was just the two of them, trying to make sense of a world that felt increasingly hostile.

“My friend is dead, Mom,” Lilia said finally, her voice barely audible.

“And most of this town assumes you, and your so-called friends, had something to do with it,” Mai pointed out. “This the second time in a single day that you’ve been called down to the police station, and this time it was in handcuffs, Liliana. You need to stop this.”

“Yes, Mother,” she whispered.

“You should head up to your room.” Her mother nodded toward the stairwell, her tone final but the worry in her eyes didn’t fade. “It’s late,” she said softly. She turned her back to the sink, her movements slower now, as if the conversation had drained the last of her energy.

Lilia stood for a moment, the weight of her mother’s expectations pressing down on her. She wanted to say more, to offer some reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come. The distance between them felt like an insurmountable chasm, one that had only grown wider since her father’s death.

“Before you go up,” her mother said as she turned to leave, “a letter came for you today.”

She frowned, confused. “A letter?”

Her mother nodded, pointing to the envelope on the table. “There’s no return address though, just your name.”

Lilia picked up the envelope, her thumb running along the slightly torn edge. She shot her mother a glance, but there was no recognition in her eyes. With a quiet, “Thanks,” she headed up the stairs to her room.

Once inside, Lilia closed the door and sat on her bed, the envelope resting on her lap. Her room was the one place in the house that felt like her own—a mix of old books, art supplies, and mementos from a life she sometimes struggled to reconcile with the one her mother wanted for her. Taking a deep breath, she tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. The handwriting was neat but unfamiliar, the words carefully chosen, each dripping with malice.

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN KEEP THIS QUIET? JACOB’S BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS. CONFESS, OR YOU’LL REGRET IT.

The letter dropped from her trembling hands.

The text was bad, but this—this was so much worse. They were screwed. Someone knew what they had done. Someone knew that they had killed someone.

Lilia: We need to meet. Park. Now.

She didn’t bother waiting for their responses. She knew that they would come. They always did.

She grabbed her coat from the back of her desk chair and bounded out of her bedroom. The door reverberated against the frame, and her footsteps echoed loudly among the empty home. She ignored her mother’s angered shouts and rushed out of the front door.

The cool air nipped at her skin but she didn’t care. The black dress she had worn to the funeral clung to her legs, but she just ran. She ran and ran. The threat from the letter was hanging over her like a guillotine. But she kept running until the vacated park came into view.

It didn’t take the others long to show up, Augustus arriving first—his home the closest to the park next to her own. He took in her disheveled form, the slight redness and flush of her cheeks with a frown. “What happened?”

“Someone sent me a letter. Someone knows what we did to him—to Jacob, that we killed him,” she rushed out. “We are screwed, Gus. We are beyond screwed.”

“No, okay. We’re going to be fine,” Augustus attempted to reassure her.

“This”—she held the crumbled letter up—“is far from fine. We’re going to jail. We need to tell someone.”

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asked.

“Someone knows.” Lilia thrust the paper at him.

“Where did you find this? Do you know who sent this to you?” Sebastian turned the letter over. “There’s no return address.”

“My mom said that there wasn’t one. I suppose whoever sent it would rather stay anonymous, don’t you think?”

“But why, if they already know what we did? Why not just go to the police? Why not just rat us out?” Augustus questioned. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe they’re trying to punish us.” Lilia lowered to the bench behind her.

She had once loved coming here to this park. The turning leaves and the waning moon overhead had once been peaceful. Now all she could think about was the circumstances that she seemed to find himself in as of late; the pressure to perform—to be happy and place a smile on her face.

“We need to find out who’s doing this,” she said. “It could be the person who killed Willow. Maybe getting revenge for us killing Jacob. If we figure out who is sending the texts, we might be able to find out who did this. We can end this.”

“I’m sorry, when did we turn into Mystery Inc.?” Sebastian furrowed his brow. “The police are on our asses every single second. After tonight’s little disaster, I can’t see them turning a blind eye to us any time soon. And now you want us to investigate the murder of our friend that may or may not be connected to whatever the hell is going on here?” He looked between his two friends. “No.”

“Sorry.” Delilah huffed. “My mom is at my apartment. I had to wait until she was asleep to leave. What’s going on? What did I miss?”

“This.” Sebastian handed her the letter.

Delilah took the letter with a frown, her eyes scanning the words. “Who sent this?”

“I don’t know. There’s no return address.” Lilia shook her head. “Someone knows what we did.”

“Why not go to the police, why send something anonymously? If they know—we should be in jail by now.”

“Do you think it’s whoever sent the texts?” Delilah asked.

“It has to be. It’s probably the same person who dug up Willow’s grave, who killed her,” Augustus said.

“So we find out who it is. We figure out who had the motive to kill Willow, and we find out who’s sending the text, and whoever sent this fucked up letter.”

“Are we seriously doing this?” Delilah looked between her friends. “Should we even be doing this, where is Eleanor? We shouldn’t be making decisions without her.”

“We can fill her in tomorrow. But we don’t have much of a choice anymore. Someone is trying to frame us; the letter, the grave—what’s next? We have to figure out who killed Willow, and we need to do it now,” Lilia said.

“We should start at the lake house,” Augustus concluded. “It makes the most sense logistically.”

They all nodded. It made sense.

But were they ready to go back to the place where it all began? The place where their demons clawed to be free.

They stood among the trees, the waning moon, and the breeze that seemed to blow through every few seconds. They weren’t perfect—far from it. They were murderers. They were liars. That was who they would always be.

“To the grave?” Augustus said.

“To the grave . ”