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“Fuck, man.” Liam sees it on my face. “Well, if Lucien needed to escalate things, he might have used AI to keep it going.”

“Fuck!” I grab a pillow from the couch and throw it across the room as hard as I can. It hits the wall and falls to the floor.

“Are you going to be okay?” Liam asks quietly.

“No.” My voice breaks. “I’m not going to be okay.”

Liam stands. “I can stay with you tonight. I have to get back to Boston in the morning, but I can⁠—”

“No. It’s okay.” I shake my head. “I have to figure out how to fix this.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.” Liam’s voice is firm. “We could get back at him. Get even, you know?”

I’m too tired to think about revenge. Too tired to think about anything except the fact that every conversation I had with Gwen might have been with Lucien.

“Maybe,” I say. “I just need to go lie down.”

“I’ll stay for a bit,” Liam says. “Is there food in the fridge?”

“Help yourself.”

I walk to my bedroom and close the door behind me. I hold my pillow against my chest as I sit on the edge of my bed.

I think about all the conversations I had with “Gwen.”

The questions she asked. Where do you touch yourself? In bed or in the shower? What side of the bed do you sleep on? Are you a virgin?

Why would Lucien want to know those things? What is he going to do with that information? I’m scared because Lucien is clearly a psychopath. The realization floods me. He catfished me for months. Used AI to fake a voice. Manipulated me into opening up, into being vulnerable, into sending pictures.

My stomach turns, and I think I might actually throw up.

But then I replay all of my interactions with Lucien in person. I remember the way Lucien looked at me in the café. There was concern in his voice when he asked if I was okay. It felt genuine. And I remember his body wanting me in the haunted house. He couldn’t fake that. And some of our conversations, the ones about having to perform all the time, about wanting to be seen, those felt authentic.

What if somehow Lucien hasn’t been totally lying? What if some part of it is real?

I’m going crazy. Why am I trying to justify Lucien’s disgusting behavior? Is it because I want to believe that the connection I felt meant something?

My phone pings.

I look at the screen.

Gwen

i’m so sorry, something came up, and I couldn’t get there in time. my phone died so I couldn’t text

Fucking liar.

My hands are shaking as I type back.

fuck you, Lucien

I stare at the message for a second before I press send.

I’m still hoping she’ll reply with genuine confusion, proving me wrong, and that her shock will reveal this is all some horrible misunderstanding.

Instead, the phone rings. It’s Gwen’s number.

I cradle the phone in my hand like a grenade before the pin is pulled.