AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Or do I slog over to Hott Springs headquarters in the clothes that best reflect my state of mind—ten-year-old sweats?
In the end, I split the difference. I throw on a pink T-shirt that says Inhale tacos, exhale negativity, my most flattering jeans, and a pair of purple Converse high-tops. My hair’s clean and my makeup is the fruit of years of figuring out how to look just rolled out of bed and I’m always this gorgeous and dewy.
Let him think a little about what he’s missing.
Of course, he’s probably not missing it. He’s probably back to his old habits.
I haven’t let myself search for his name online because seeing him with someone else on his arm would wreck me.
I almost change into the sweats, but I’m running late, so I get into the car.
A few minutes after ten, I pull into the Hott Springs parking lot and head inside.
Since the individual offices are small, we’ve set up in what Easton tells me used to be the living room of the old ranch house but is now the big reception area of the business. It’s a massive great room with high ceilings, thick beams, and a huge stone fireplace. Two of the room’s three walls are mostly windows with dramatic views of the Cascades. Despite the rustic architecture, there’s a bridal aesthetic to everything—the furniture is white and gold upholstered, a modern take on Victorian styling, the floor-length drapes are the same fabric, and twinkle lights give the whole room a celebratory feeling. There are loads of bridal magazines tossed onto the coffee table.
Our small but mighty crew is spread out around the room with cell phones in hand: Hanna, Sonya, Easton, and me.
Just before lunchtime, Hanna’s brother Rhys, the lawyer, walks in. He’s clean shaven, neatly groomed, and well dressed in trousers and a dress shirt. You can’t miss the Hott family resemblance, and my stomach pitches.
Shane’s still not here.
Everyone seems to assume he’s coming—but he hasn’t replied to my terse text telling him that I’ll do whatever needs to be done to help Hanna.
I don’t say, including marrying you. I think it’s obvious.
Hanna is tied up talking on the phone to January, who has been calling her in tears since the news broke yesterday. As Rhys approaches her, Hanna wraps an arm around his midsection and gives him a sideways hug without ending the call. A few minutes later, though, she hangs up and hugs him in earnest.
“What are you doing here!?”
“Flew in to help,” he says.
She lets him go and turns to me. “This is my brother Rhys,” she tells us proudly.
“It’s a fake,” he says bluntly.
“What?”
“The photo. It’s a fake. A really good deepfake. I’ve got several contacts who are experts in deepfakes, so I ran it by them. With AI, this is coming up more and more in family law cases, so I’ve been collecting experts. I got their responses when I was in the car on the way from the airport. All three of them said basically the same thing. Real January doesn’t have a tattoo on her wrist—her character in Salient did, but it was a temporary. And if you look at how they’re posed, she’s in the same position, more or less, as one of the steamy scenes in Salient.” He holds up his phone to show us a video still and the photo of January.
“Holy shit,” Hanna breathes, color coming back into her face for the first time since the apparently fake January news broke.
“God,” I say. “That’s—really disturbing. I mean, speaking as the resident actress. This is my worst nightmare come true—that someone mashes up reality and fiction and smears me.”
“And it’s not that hard to do,” Rhys says. “The technology is basically everywhere now.”
Frowning, Hanna says, “Who would bother to fake a photo like that?”
Easton sighs. “A lot of people,” he says. “Hollywood enemies. Press looking to capitalize on a good story.” He ponders for a moment. “Someone who had something to gain by keeping the wedding from happening.”
“Weggers,” Hanna growls.
Sonya looks at Rhys, a question in her eyes. “Does he? I know he’s a pain in the ass, but sabotage?”
“Seems unlikely,” he admits. “He’s a pain in the ass, not an evil genius. And can you see him deepfaking a photo?”
“God, Rhys,” Hanna says, handing the phone back to him. “I don’t know whether to thank you or hate you right now. But I know January is going to be extremely grateful.”
That’s when her gaze snaps to my face. Along with pretty much everyone else’s in the room.
