Chapter 3

At eight the next evening, Daniel's celebratory livestream began. Behind them, a backdrop displayed a bold slogan. "Four People. Ten Years. A Friendship That Will Never Fade."

The four friends, Evelyn, Daniel, Claire Bennett, and Adrian Calloway, sat side by side in front of the camera. I was the only one missing from the set.

At first, Evelyn glanced toward the off-camera area, looking for me. She probably assumed I was running late because I was still upset. But once the livestream passed 100,000 viewers, she quickly forgot all about me.

The brand had poured a huge amount of money into the livestream. Then, right there on the spot, they announced that they were willing to fund a custom short film documenting their friendship.

The moment the announcement ended, the livestream comments suddenly went silent. Then, one after another, a wave of stunned messages flooded the screen.

"Wait, where did all the videos on your profile go?"

"The platform says they've been taken down because of a serious copyright dispute!"

"Everyone, go look! The original creator just posted a statement! Daniel Whitmore wasn't the one who filmed them!"

The mood in the livestream shifted instantly.

At the same time, I posted a statement on my own account.

"Creator's Proof of Ownership: Evan Mercer was the original camera operator for 90% of the footage used in 'The Friendship We Shared,' and he also wrote all of the narration."

I attached timestamps documenting the exact dates and times each scene was filmed, along with dozens of drafts showing the revisions I'd made to the narration.

The moment the brand saw my statement, they posted a message in the livestream. "Due to potential copyright issues, all future collaboration is suspended."

Daniel's face went pale, and the livestream ended abruptly.

My phone was immediately flooded with calls from all four of them. I answered Evelyn's call. Her voice came through, barely containing her anger. "Evan, have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea what this is going to do to Daniel's career?"

I could hear Daniel's furious breathing in the background.

Claire was yelling too. "Evan, are you seriously that bitter? All they did was leave your name out! Did you really have to make such a huge deal out of it?"

As they accused me as if they had every right to, I suddenly laughed. "Why does his career have to be built on my work?"

Evelyn fell silent for a moment before snapping back, teeth clenched. "You're just jealous because people are shipping me and Daniel, aren't you? Evan, can you stop being so childish?"

I tightened my grip on the phone, raging with anger. So for the first and last time, I made myself clear.

"Evelyn, you've got it wrong. I've never cared about people shipping the two of you. What I care about is the fact that you call me an outsider and erase me from everything you've built… Then you turn around and use everything I've poured into it to make money without giving it a second thought."

With that, I hung up.

After that incident, the four of them decided to reshoot the footage, hoping to win the brand back. They wanted to prove to the entire world that they could still tell the perfect story of their friendship without me.

The problem was, they didn't even know how to adjust the white balance on a DSLR, understand depth of field, or put together a proper shot list. They were used to simply standing in front of the camera, striking a pose, and waiting for me to count, "One, two, three."

Even so, they rushed the replacement video online. The lighting was dim, the transitions were clumsy, and the whole thing looked painfully amateurish.

The internet noticed immediately, and the comments were filled with ridicule.

"You can totally tell this was staged. This doesn't even come close to the last video."

But the biggest problem came when Daniel decided to take a shortcut. He reused a storyboard I'd once shared in their group chat, one that had never been made public. Once viewers dug it up and exposed him, Daniel was hit with another wave of plagiarism accusations.