Chapter 1

Finn's POV

I threw the door open. The bang was loud enough to make all four people on the couch turn around.

Vivian Clark froze with her wineglass halfway to her lips, while the smile on my best friend Mike Crain's face froze.

Only my girlfriend, Wanda Beckham, didn't seem the least bit nervous. She got to her feet. "Finn, you've always been too full of yourself. Everett just wanted to take you down a notch. He didn't mean any harm."

My throat felt as dry as if I'd swallowed gravel. "Wanda, you studied law too! You know that's defamation! He made that whole thing up just to humiliate me!"

Wanda frowned. "The video's already been taken down. What more do you want?"

I remembered the day Wanda passed the bar exam.

She'd hugged me outside the law firm and promised me with absolute sincerity, "Finn, if anyone ever bullies you or hurts you, I'll make sure they pay for it."

I turned to Mike and stared him straight in the eye. "Mike, is that what you think too?"

He looked away. "Finn, we're all friends here. There's no need to make things ugly."

"Friends? Since when did you become friends with him?"

Mike hesitated before letting out a sigh. "Since the last time we all hung out."

He glanced at me. "Look, Finn, you're a good friend, but you can be pretty self-centered sometimes. Everett's right. You can't expect everything to be about you."

I almost laughed.

Two years ago, Mike's startup had gone under, leaving him drowning in debt. He'd barely had enough money to pay his rent.

I'd lent him all my savings and everything I'd earned from my projects to help him get back on his feet. I'd been there for him through the worst of it.

Back then, he'd clapped me on the shoulder, his voice thick with emotion. "If anyone ever messes with my best friend, they'll have to go through me first."

Vivian came over and reached out to give my shoulder a playful punch, just like she used to. I stepped out of the way.

Her hand stopped in midair, and her face fell. "Finn Campbell, that's enough."

I looked at her. When she'd failed her SAT, I'd helped her reorganize her notes and spent hours going through practice questions with her, one at a time.

When her mother got sick while she was studying for her retakes, I'd taken care of her mother at the hospital, even staying up all night by her bedside so Vivian could focus on her exams.

I let out a quiet laugh. "Fine."

I nodded, my voice barely audible. "I get it now."

Then I turned and opened the door.

Wanda called after me. "Finn, this will all blow over once people lose interest in the video. Why do you have to make such a big deal out of it?"

I ignored her, hurried downstairs, and started my car. But I'd barely pulled onto the road when my phone started blowing up.

A high-definition version of the video had been posted on the front page of the city's biggest online forum. My face and name were there for everyone to see.

HR called sooner than I'd expected. "Mr. Campbell, we suggest you resign."

I tried to explain, but the person on the other end cut me off. "Whatever the circumstances, this has damaged the company's reputation. We could be asking you for compensation, but we're not."

I hung up and drove back to my apartment. My landlord was waiting outside. The moment he saw me, he looked at me like I had the plague.

"Get your stuff and move out! With everything people are saying about you, who's going to want to rent this place after you?"

Before I could even respond, he threw my suitcases out the door. "Now get lost!"

Rainwater ran down my hair and slipped beneath my collar, sending a chill through me.

That night, I tried over and over to explain online that the video was an AI-generated fake. But all I got in return was a flood of vile comments.

I smoked half a pack of cigarettes, leaving my car's ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts.

Then my phone buzzed with a message from Wanda.

"Finn, where are you? It's pouring out there. Don't stay out in the rain. You'll get sick. I've already spoken to Everett about what he did. As long as you agree to let it go, we can put this whole thing behind us."

I stared at the screen, my grip tightening around the phone until my knuckles turned white. 20 million views.

I'd lost my job, my apartment, and my reputation. And she thought we could just "put this whole thing behind us".

My phone buzzed again.

The message read, "Finn Campbell, answer me. Don't make me worry about you."