Anna Kendrick Deepfake Novels & Stories

Chapter 201 Kevin's POV I couldn't stop staring at the photo. Even as I sat behind the wheel of my car, engine idling in the parking lot, my eyes kept drifting back to my phone screen. Back to the image that had shattered something fundamental in my understanding of my own brother. Julian. Kissing a man. My hands tightened around the steering wheel until my knuckles went white. It couldn't be real. This was the age of AI, deepfakes, digital manipulation. Anyone with basic software could fabricate a photo convincing enough to fool the untrained eye. People did it all the time—created scandals, ruined reputations, spread lies that looked like truth.

"Make him listen. Because if we don't do this, if we don't get that evidence. The deepfake becomes accepted truth. And we all lose." I called Adrien three times before he answered. "What." His voice was flat. Hostile. "We need to talk." "I don't think we do." "Miguel found something. About the deepfake. He can prove it was manipulated. But we need your help to" "I'm not interested in more schemes that get people hurt." "Adrien, please. Just listen" "It's a data facility. In New Jersey. Where the original security footage is stored. If we can access it"

“They’re not. Someone made them. Someone’s trying to erase me.” Cara reached out a hand. “Then prove it, Olivia. Before it’s too late.” When the court resumed, Mr. Rhodes brought in a new witness, Dr. Henry Marlowe, a forensic video expert. He was calm, confident, his glasses gleaming under the lights. He explained deepfakes, how artificial intelligence could create near perfect replicas of a person’s face and voice. He showed side by side comparisons of real versus synthetic videos. Then he said, “Based on my analysis, there’s a 92% chance the video of Mrs. Henderson was digitally altered.”

“What about the audio files leaked tonight? Is it true you conspired against your own fiancée?” Marcus looked directly into the camera lens. His expression was calm, almost sad, like the world had disappointed him. “It’s a tragedy. We live in a world where AI and deepfake technology can destroy a man’s name in seconds. That audio is fake. It’s a desperate attempt by people who know Vane Emeralds is failing and need someone to blame.” A murmur ran through the crowd. I felt the room shift instantly. People who had pitied me moments ago were now squinting with suspicion.

It made my stomach flip. "Sit down, Scarlett," Marcus ordered. I sat on the long couch. A giant TV screen was on the wall. There were three people on the screen. They looked very serious and wore expensive suits. "Mr. Reed," the man in the middle of the screen said. "We’ve seen the footage. It’s a mess." "It’s a lie," Marcus said. He didn't even blink. "It’s a deepfake. Someone used AI to put my daughter’s face on a bad video to hurt my merger."

Chaos is loud. But the destruction of a reputation? That is deafening. The ballroom had dissolved into a frenzy of flashing cameras and shouting reporters. The video on the massive screen looped again—Sarah Sterling crying, Vanessa threatening to kill her. "It's fake!" Vanessa shrieked, her voice cracking. She pointed a trembling finger at the screen. "It's AI! It's a deepfake! He’s hacking the system!" She grabbed the lapels of a Senator standing near her.

The contrast of her—soft, warm, and expressive—against the darkness of the underground fighting world made her look like something otherworldly. And for some goddamn reason, Kane liked hearing her talk. Which was new. He pulled off his hoodie, leaving him in his fitted white t-shirt. He heard her inhale sharply, her green eyes flickering to his exposed arms, where ink covered his skin. The dim lighting in the car made her red hair shine. He smirked as he started the car. "So, uhmm..." she cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. "How old are you?" Kane kept his eyes on the road. "Twenty-nine. You?"

I sat up in bed, holding the phone close to my face as the media player loaded. On the screen, I saw a guy sitting behind a desk with different computers and giving an apology video. His lip was swollen and he had a dark bruise forming right along his jawline, but his eyes were fixed on the camera lens. "I want to make a public statement regarding the image posted on the university forum yesterday," the guy in the video was saying. He looked like he was looking at a script off-camera. "The photograph featuring Kassidy Townsend was fabricated. It was an AI picture that I uploaded using my administrator credentials in the IT department. Kassidy Townsend had absolutely nothing to do with it, an

There always was. I enlarged the footage one frame at a time until I found it—a faint, unnatural distortion along the edge of a mirror in the background. A classic deepfake artifact. And the only person with both the technical skills to pull it off and a reason to do Sandra's dirty work was Wade. Wade had studied computer science. He'd always had a taste for that kind of gray-area technical work. I immediately reached out to a former colleague from Vivid Stream Media's tech department who I'd stayed on good terms with, Derek Mills.

Now watch me end him for good. By morning, Jack’s office was swarming with chaos. Someone had leaked an edited video online of a deepfake showing Jack at a recent party, handing an envelope full of cash to a known crime figure. The caption read: Once a criminal, always a criminal. Reporters were camped outside his building. Investors were calling for emergency meetings. And the police? They were knocking on his door. Kendall stood in the corner of the office, heart pounding as two detectives introduced themselves.