Chapter 15 - The Woman on the Screen
I stared at Naomi.
“That never happened.”
“I know.”
“The buyer sent us a copy.”
We gathered around her laptop.
A video appeared.
The woman on screen looked like me.
Same hair.
Same face.
Same voice.
She held up a copy of my driver’s license.
Then she said she approved the Bennett Development sale.
Lily whispered from behind me.
“Mom?”
Dad immediately closed the laptop.
“It’s fake.”
Naomi nodded.
“AI-generated video.”
The room became silent.
Ryan had not simply forged my signature.
He had manufactured me.
For one terrifying moment, I understood why he had been so confident.
The buyer thought they had spoken directly to me.
My father asked, “Can we prove it?”
Naomi answered.
“Probably.”
“But not in two hours.”
That was the lowest moment.
The documents.
The money.
The letters.
The recording.
None of it seemed fast enough.
Ryan had spent years preparing.
I had been awake for less than twenty-four hours.
I went into the bedroom and closed the door.
For the first time, I cried.
Not because of the money.
Not because of the company.
Not even because of my marriage.
I cried for six stolen years with my father.
I cried because Lily had learned to watch her father’s moods before she had learned long division.
I cried because I had confused endurance with loyalty.
A few minutes later, someone knocked.
“Mom?”
I wiped my face.
Lily entered.
She sat beside me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“If I hadn’t told you about the office, Dad wouldn’t be mad.”
My heart cracked.
I took her face in my hands.
“Listen to me.”
“None of this is because of you.”
“Adults are responsible for what adults do.”
She nodded slowly.
Then she said something unexpected.
“I think I have something.”
She opened her backpack.
From a small side pocket, she removed an old phone.
Ryan’s previous phone.
“Where did you get that?”
“Dad gave it to me last year so I could play games.”
“Does it work?”
“Only on Wi-Fi.”
She unlocked it.
“I never deleted his stuff because I didn’t know how.”
My pulse quickened.
The phone still contained messages.
Photos.
Cloud files.
And an authentication app connected to Ryan’s business accounts.
Naomi came in when I called.
She looked at the device.
Then at me.
“This may be the original source used to create that video.”
Lily frowned.
“How?”
Naomi opened a folder.
Inside were dozens of short videos of me.
At dinner.
In the kitchen.
Reading.
Talking.
Most had been filmed without my knowledge.
Ryan had been collecting my face and voice for months.
Then Lily tapped one more folder.
May you like
Its name was simply.
CHARLES.
