Watched II
1020 Words
The coffee shop was one of those independent places with mismatched furniture and jazz playing softly through old speakers. Marcus was already there when we arrived, a man in his early forties with glasses and the distracted energy of someone whose brain was always running three conversations ahead of his mouth.
Natalie made introductions. He shook my hand with a firm grip and got straight to business.
“I’ve been thinking about your case since Natalie first reached out,” he said, wrapping both hands around his coffee cup. “And I want to be upfront with you. What we’re dealing with here is sophisticated. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.”
“Deepfakes,” I said.
“High quality deepfakes. The kind that requires decent processing power, good source material, and some level of technical skill. This isn’t something you can put together with a YouTube tutorial and a laptop.”
“So we’re looking for someone with a specific skillset.”
“Exactly. Either someone who works in tech, AI development, digital media, or someone who paid a professional to do it for them. And paying someone means there’s a money trail somewhere.”
“Can you find it?”
“Not without more to go on.” He pulled out a notebook, old school and practical. “That’s why I wanted to meet with you. I need to know everything about the people in your life. Not just the obvious suspects. Everyone.”
I spent the next two hours talking while Marcus took notes. My parents, Ethan’s family, old coworkers from Carter & Associates, college friends, neighbors, anyone and everyone I could think of. Marcus asked questions that seemed random but clearly weren’t. Did Ethan have any tech friends? Has anyone from my past worked in AI or digital media? Was there anyone who’d ever shown unusual interest in me, anyone I’d turned down or wronged or beaten out for something?
Then I showed him the text from last night. His expression didn’t change much, but his pen stopped moving for a second. Just a second.
“They’re escalating,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“Whoever this is, they’re not satisfied with what they already did to you. The photos were the opening move. This text tells me they’re still engaged, still watching, and wanting to cause more damage.” He looked up at me over his glasses. “Which is actually useful.”
“How is that useful?”
“Because people who escalate make mistakes. They get bolder and sloppier. They start taking risks they wouldn’t have taken before.” He clicked his pen. “They’ll show themselves eventually. People like this always do.”
“Eventually isn’t good enough,” I said. “My whole life is already destroyed.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” He said it plainly, without the pitying tone I’d gotten used to from people who knew my situation. Just a simple acknowledgment.
“But we build the case carefully or we don’t build it at all. If we rush this, whoever it is will cover their tracks and you’ll never get justice.”
The word justice felt strange. Like something that happened to other people, not Ivy.
We stayed until noon, going through every name on my list methodically. Marcus flagged three people worth looking into further, old college acquaintances I barely remembered who had apparently gone into tech careers. Probably nothing, he admitted, but worth checking.
When we finally left, stepping out into the drizzle, I felt simultaneously more hopeful and more exhausted than before.
Natalie linked her arm through mine as we walked to the subway.
“We’re getting closer,” she said.
“Are we? Because it feels like we’re just getting more questions.”
“Questions lead to answers. Marcus is good, Ivy. If there’s something to find, he’ll find it.”
I nodded, pulling my hood up against the rain.
My phone buzzed. It wasn’t a text this time but an email notification.
FROM: Ethan Carter
My feet stopped moving on the wet sidewalk. Natalie noticed immediately. “What?”
I turned the phone so she could see the screen.
Her eyes went wide. “Open it.”
My thumb hovered over the notification. Part of me didn’t want to. Whatever Ethan had to say, it wasn’t going to be an apology. He’d made his position perfectly clear when he threw my things onto the front lawn and told me I had until nightfall to disappear.
But I opened it anyway.
*Ivy. My lawyer will be in touch next week regarding the divorce settlement. I expect you to cooperate fully and not make this difficult. The house is mine. The joint accounts are mine. Sign what you’re asked to sign and this will be over quickly.*
*Don’t contact me directly again.*
I read it twice. It was short, cold, and efficient. Like a business email. Like five years of marriage and seven years together were just a transaction to be closed out cleanly.
*Don’t contact me directly again.*
I hadn’t contacted him at all. Not even once, since the day I left. He was the one who’d reached out, just to remind me that I’d lost everything and he expected me to go quietly.
Natalie was reading over my shoulder, and I felt her arm tighten around mine.
“Ignore it,” she said firmly. “Don’t respond. Let your own lawyer handle it.”
“I don’t have a lawyer.”
“Then get one. Monday morning, first thing.”
I stared at Ethan’s name on my screen. At the cold efficient words that had replaced the man who used to whisper against my hair that he loved me more than anything.
Something hardened in my chest. Something quiet and permanent.
“Okay,” I said, putting my phone away. “Monday morning.”
We walked to the subway in silence, the rain falling steadily around us.
Maybe somewhere on the other side of the city, someone was watching. Waiting for their next move.
- Writer
