Chapter 9 · free to read
She had expected a lawsuit. Lawsuits take years, cost money, and happen in rooms with no cameras. Her sister had booked a room that was nothing but cameras.
Every alias she had ever burned was on television by lunch. Three years of careful ghost-work, assembled by somebody else into a portrait of a con artist.
For three years the brand had been the proof that she was owed something. She looked at it now and could not tell it from a barcode.
No lawyers. No cameras. No witnesses. Her sister wanted the same thing she did, which was the first genuinely frightening thing about her.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.