My Bestie's Deepfake Scam Backfires Spectacularly

When I opened my eyes, my best friend, Jessica Morin, was standing by my desk.

She waved my student ID in her hand and gave me an apologetic smile. "Demi, could I borrow this? The printers over at the administration building are only available tonight, and I'm still missing two documents for my grad school application."

I stared at the card, speechless.

Outside, the sky was dim and overcast. The dorm loudspeakers were broadcasting an announcement—the grad school recommendation list would be posted in two days.

That meant tonight was the night.

In my past life, Jessica had borrowed my student ID on this exact evening.

The next morning, a secretly recorded video spread across the entire campus. The person in the video wore a hat, swiped my student ID to enter the archives building, and tampered with the evaluation scores on the computer.

The security camera had caught my face. The door logs had matched my student ID. Even the search history on my laptop had been framed as premeditated evidence.

I had explained, I had cried, and I had even called the police.

Yet everyone had said the same thing. "The evidence is right here. How long are you going to keep lying?"

At the disciplinary hearing, Dad had worn his faded white shirt and bowed to the faculty and students, apologizing for me.

He had never begged anyone in his life, but that day he held the dean's hands, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "She's young and just made a silly mistake. Please don't expel her. I'll get down on my knees if I have to."

Three months later, he died of a sudden heart attack.

Even on his deathbed, he was still comforting me. "Demi, I believe you."

Mom never set foot near the university again. Every time she passed the entrance, she would take a long detour.

As for me, all my honors were revoked, I was expelled, and I never even got my degree.

Those who used to praise me for being brilliant suddenly claimed I was corrupt. Those who used to beg for my class notes turned my photos into memes.

It took me seven long years, and I still couldn't prove that the person in the video wasn't me.

"Demi?" Jessica waved her hand in front of my face. "What's wrong? You look pale."

I snapped out of it and clenched my trembling hands.

Right now, she was still the sweet, gentle Jessica in everyone's eyes.

She was the one who brought me breakfast when I stayed up late, joined competitions with me, and took attendance for me when I had a fever.

Nobody would ever suspect her.

Just like in my past life, nobody believed that someone's face could be altered on a crystal-clear security tape.

I let go of my student ID. "Sure. Go ahead."

Jessica visibly let out a sigh of relief. "I knew you were the best! I'll definitely give it back before 11:00 pm."

She took the card and walked toward the door, then turned around. "Oh, right. Ethan was looking for you earlier. I think he fixed your laptop."

Right on cue, my childhood friend, Ethan Jackson, appeared outside the door.

He was holding a laptop bag, fine beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. "Have you been waiting long?"

He set the laptop down in front of me, his voice as gentle as ever. "The hard drive is fine, and all your files are safe. I made a separate backup of your award photos and ID shots, so you don't accidentally delete them later."

He was always so thoughtful.

In my past life, after the scandal broke, everyone had avoided me like the plague.

He'd been the only one who shielded me from reporters and helped me look for evidence. At Dad's funeral, he had held me tight and said, "Demi, you still have me."

I used to cling to those words like a lifeline.

Only later did I realize that not everyone who reached out to help me was trying to save me. Sometimes, they just didn't want me to climb out of the abyss.

I swallowed the hatred rising inside me and booted up the laptop. "Where did you put the backup?"

"Same place as always." Ethan leaned over and opened a folder for me.

It contained all my photos from recent years, along with front-facing footage captured while filming the school's promotional video.

He chuckled softly and explained, "Our lab has been testing facial recognition software lately, so I organized them for you while I was at it. Don't mess with them. Once the system syncs, they'll be hard to recover."

"Okay." I sounded completely compliant.

Ethan ruffled my hair. "The list is coming out soon, so don't stress too much. Even if something goes wrong, I'm right here."

I looked up at him. "You'll stay by my side no matter what happens?"

"Of course." He didn't hesitate for even a second.

Once he left, I locked the dorm room and reopened that folder.

The photos were arranged neatly. They included front-facing shots, profiles, and photos of me looking down or up. There were even images of my expressions under different lighting conditions.

I didn't delete a single file.

I simply opened the lab's shared cloud drive and found the dataset folder marked with my initials.

Then, I replaced every single file inside.

The new materials came from the anniversary interview video released this afternoon.

In the clip, the university president, Frankie Harper, sat up straight, facing the camera solemnly. "This university has zero tolerance for fraud."

At 1:00 am, Jessica returned and set my student ID on my desk. "Demi, thanks a lot!"

My eyes swept over the fresh scratch on the card's surface.

"Finished printing your stuff?" I asked.

"All done." She grinned and crawled into her bed.

A moment later, a pop-up appeared at the bottom right corner of my screen. "Cloud sync complete."

Staring at those words, I smiled too.

I hoped they would be just as happy when they saw the result tomorrow.