Episode 1: Three Years Later
Claire Bennett stood in front of the granite headstone and wished she felt something different.
Three years.
Three years since the phone call that shattered her life.
Three years since the rain-soaked highway, the twisted metal, and the police officer standing at her door with sympathetic eyes.
Three years since Lucas Hart died.
She traced her fingers over the engraved letters.
Lucas Hart 1989 – 2023
Gone.
The word still didn’t feel real.
The cemetery was quiet except for the distant rustling of leaves. A cool breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and damp earth. Around her, other visitors stood beside other graves, each carrying their own private grief.
Claire placed a small bouquet of white lilies at the base of the stone.
Lucas used to buy them for her every anniversary.
Not roses.
Not tulips.
Lilies.
Because once, on their second date, she had told him they looked elegant without trying too hard.
It had become their thing.
The memory made her smile.
Then ache.
“You’d hate this place,” she said softly.
A gust of wind stirred the trees.
“You always said cemeteries were for the living.”
The smile faded.
“And maybe you were right.”
She stared at the headstone.
The truth was she hadn’t visited much during the first year. She couldn’t. Every trip left her unable to function for days.
The second year had been easier.
The third year felt strange.
Less pain.
More guilt.
As if healing itself was a betrayal.
A few weeks ago, her friend Melissa had convinced her to create a dating profile.
She hadn’t met anyone.
Hadn’t even gone on a date.
But she had created the profile.
And somehow that felt worse.
Like she was closing a door she had promised to keep open forever.
“You’d tell me to stop being ridiculous,” she whispered.
Because he would.
Lucas had never been dramatic.
That had been her job.
He’d always laughed whenever she spiraled into overthinking.
“Claire, if I get hit by a bus tomorrow, you’re not allowed to become one of those women who owns seven cats and talks to houseplants.”
She laughed despite herself.
Then wiped away a tear before it could fall.
“Still bossy.”
The sun was beginning to set.
She took one last look at the headstone.
“Happy anniversary, Lucas.”
Then she turned and walked away.
The apartment felt too quiet when she got home.
It always did.
Claire kicked off her shoes and dropped her purse onto the kitchen counter.
The day had drained her.
She poured herself a glass of wine and settled onto the couch.
Outside, darkness slowly swallowed the city.
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced down automatically.
Probably Melissa checking on her.
Instead, her stomach tightened.
The screen displayed a name she hadn’t seen in three years.
Lucas
For a second, her brain refused to process it.
She simply stared.
Then laughed nervously.
Someone had to be spoofing the number.
Some sick joke.
Her pulse quickened.
The phone buzzed again.
A text message.
Claire’s fingers felt numb as she opened it.
The message contained only one sentence.
I know what you left beneath the lighthouse.
She froze.
The room seemed to tilt.
No.
No, no, no.
Nobody knew about that.
Not Melissa.
Not her parents.
Not a single living person.
Three years ago, during a weekend trip to the coast, she and Lucas had visited an old lighthouse.
On a whim, she had tucked a folded note into a crack beneath a loose stone.
A secret.
A promise.
A fear she had never spoken aloud.
Lucas had discovered it later and teased her for weeks.
No photographs.
No social media posts.
No witnesses.
Just the two of them.
Her hands began shaking.
Whoever sent this shouldn’t know.
Couldn’t know.
Another message appeared.
This time she didn’t hesitate.
She opened it immediately.
Her heart pounded as the words filled the screen.
Claire, I wasn’t killed in an accident.
