📖 CHAPTER 2 — The Livestream Trap
ason’s smile didn’t change when she asked the question.
“What is that?”
Instead, he tilted the phone slightly toward her.
And the screen lit up brighter.
Caroline felt the air shift instantly.
Because it wasn’t just a recording.
It was a broadcast.
Live.
Hundreds of comments scrolled across the display in real time:
“She’s bigger than the pics lol”
“Cleo said she was confident 😂”
“Is this the ‘real woman’ experiment?”
“Bet he leaves in 10 minutes”
Caroline’s breath caught.
“This is… live?” she whispered.
Jason took a slow sip of scotch.
“Technically? Yes.”
Her stomach dropped. “What do you mean ‘technically’?”
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing something intimate.
“This is Cleo’s concept,” he said. “The ‘Authentic Love Experiment.’ She wanted to prove men like me can fall for women like you.”
The words hit wrong.
Not because of what they said.
Because of how rehearsed they sounded.
Caroline stared at him. “Women like me?”
Jason shrugged.
“Don’t get offended. It’s branding.”
Something cold spread in her chest.
“This is a date,” she said slowly. “Not a show.”
Jason laughed softly.
“Oh, Caroline.”
He tapped the phone again.
And the camera angle widened.
Caroline saw it then.
Two tables behind them—people weren’t eating.
They were watching.
Another booth—someone wasn’t drinking wine.
They were holding a second camera.
The entire restaurant wasn’t a restaurant.
It was a set.
Her pulse spiked. “This is illegal.”
Jason tilted his head.
“Only if you can prove you didn’t agree.”
Caroline shook her head. “I didn’t agree to any of this.”
Jason’s smile thinned.
“That’s not what Cleo said.”
The name landed like a blade.
“Cleo… did this?”
Jason nodded toward the phone.
“She built it. I just… perform.”
The livestream chat exploded faster:
“TELL HER ABOUT THE FIANCÉ”
“SHOW HER THE CONTRACT”
“SHE DOESN’T KNOW LOL”
Caroline’s hands went cold.
“What fiancé?” she asked.
Jason hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Then he turned the phone so she could see a document on screen.
A digital contract.
Signed.
Her name at the bottom.
Caroline Reed.
“I never signed that,” she whispered.
Jason studied her reaction carefully.
Then, quietly:
“Then someone signed it for you.”
A pause.
“And Cleo has your legal identity on file for brand partnerships.”
Caroline felt the room tilt slightly.
“That’s not possible.”
Jason leaned back.
“It is when your sister controls your financial proxies.”
A new message appeared on the livestream:
“Don’t panic. You’re being watched.”
Caroline froze.
Jason noticed.
“Oh,” he murmured.
“That part is new.”
She looked up sharply. “What part?”
Jason’s eyes flicked toward the window.
For the first time, his confidence cracked slightly.
“The part where I’m not the one in control of this stream.”
The lights in The Bellwether flickered once.
Then again.
And every phone in the room—every screen, every device—
switched at the same time.
To a black background.
And a single symbol.
A black crest.
Followed by one line of text:
PROPERTY ACCESS: KINCAID NETWORK
Jason went still.
Caroline whispered, “What is that?”
No one answered.
Because across Chicago’s elite district, unseen systems had just begun to wake up.
And somewhere—far beyond the restaurant—
May you like
a man who never needed to be in the room…
had already seen everything.
