A GIRL NAMED NOVA.
he asked, voice flat, carefully neutral.
I stepped into the room, holding the phone tight in my hand—the cursed video still saved on it.
“Look at this!” I said, voice trembling but firm. “This video—yes, it’s him chasing me, yes, it looks bad, but listen, Frederick—it’s edited. Look!”
I pressed play. I paused. I swiped, showing him how the audio had been muted, how the angles had been cropped.
“Do you see? You’re only seeing part of it. The voices, what I actually said, it’s missing. I—”