Chapter 2
808words
"This... what is this?" His voice rasped like a rusty saw on wood, bloodshot eyes fixed on his own ecstatic face frozen on screen. "Ava, baby, this is a prank, right? It's AI—definitely some deepfake bullshit!"
He flailed his arms like a drowning man clutching at straws, his face pale as chalk. "You know how scary deepfake tech is these days—they can put anyone's face on anything! Someone's trying to smear you by attacking me!"
Ava didn't bother looking at him, treating him like an annoying speck of dust. She simply picked up her silver laptop from the coffee table, tapped the touchpad, and turned the screen toward him.
On screen was an OnlyFans page—gaudy and tasteless. The profile picture showed Liam's signature head-tilted selfie he thought was so damn charming, his precious secondhand Porsche visible in the background. The page name blazed across the top: "Liam's Secret Playground".
"AI face-swapping?" Ava finally spoke, her voice cold as arctic ice. "Is that voice AI-synthesized too?"
Her slender fingers tapped the keyboard, opening the pinned video marked "Fans Only" on the homepage.
This time, the video had none of the pretentious music or filters from the art film—just raw, unedited phone footage. Liam and Jake's voices emerged clearly from the speakers, buzzing like irritating flies.
"...You sure this angle gets everything? The fans are picky—they want the full immersive experience..." That was Jake's voice, dripping with sleazy excitement.
"Don't worry, don't you trust my skills? Later you just need to... yeah, like that, use your tongue... fuck, don't break character laughing, this is premium content!" Liam's hoarse laughter echoed through the silent living room, each syllable hammering the final nails into the coffin of his lies.
The scenes were utterly lacking in aesthetic appeal—two overly enthusiastic men awkwardly wrestling in bizarre settings, attempting positions that looked more like bad gym moves than anything erotic. The absurdity completely overshadowed any attempt at sexiness.
Liam finally broke. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the carpet, kneeling beside his now-cooling burritos, sauce and meat crumbs staining his designer jeans. He looked like a marionette with its strings cut, a boneless heap of flesh.
"No... it's not like that..." His body began to shake violently. He tore his eyes from the humiliating footage and looked up at Ava like an abandoned puppy, tears welling instantly.
I expected a tearful apology, a hysterical argument, or even violence. But I completely underestimated the creative shamelessness a cornered man could muster.
Liam didn't apologize. Instead, he launched into a performance worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy. He crawled forward on his knees across the plush carpet, reaching for Ava's feet, grasping for her silk robe—only for her to step back in disgust.
"Ava, everything I've done... was for us!" he cried hoarsely, his voice dripping with tragic heroism, as if he were the victim. "You've become too successful! You're up there shining like a star, while I'm nothing! I love you so much I couldn't stand just spending your money, driving your car, living in your house!"
His wailing intensified, making my ears ring: "I didn't want to be called a 'kept man'! I didn't want people whispering that I'm just some pretty boy living off a woman! I wanted to share your burdens, earn my own money—enough to match you, enough for us to be equals! This was the fastest way I could think of! I'm only selling my body—my heart, my soul, everything else belongs only to you!"
He cast himself as a tragic hero, enduring humiliation and sacrificing himself for love. His performance of unbearable pain was so convincing that had I not known better, I might have been moved by his reality-warping "passionate" confession. The absurdity of his logic felt like a nuclear bomb detonating on my worldview. My stomach churned violently—far more nauseating than watching two men perform underwater tango.
Faced with this earth-shattering justification, Ava didn't cry, didn't scream, didn't show even a flicker of anger.
She just listened quietly until Liam's sobbing subsided into pathetic gasps. Then, she laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh or a bitter chuckle. It was a bone-chilling sound from the depths of her being, cold enough to freeze blood.
She slowly turned her head, her gaze bypassing the pathetic creature at her feet to land squarely on my shocked face. Her eyes were terrifyingly clear—like diamonds gleaming in darkness—sharp and filled with an ice-cold determination I'd never seen before.
"Start recording on your phone." Ava's voice wasn't loud, but each word landed like a command.
She winked at me, her cold smile deepening.
"Darling, this will be our best 'content' of the year."
