Chapter 6 - A Shadow from the Past
Kian’s video was a masterclass in manipulation. Sitting in a well-lit studio environment, looking remorseful and sincere, he spent twenty minutes rewriting history.
He claimed that he and Sasha had fallen in love after she and I had drifted apart due to my "emotional detachment and volatility." He implied that I had a history of instability, and that Renee had taken advantage of my fragile mental state to weaponize me against her family. He even included a heavily edited audio recording from our college days—a night where I had lost my temper after catching him trying to steal credit for a group coding project. Out of context, it made me sound dangerous.
The video was gaining traction rapidly. The narrative was shifting again: Is Alan a victim, or a dangerous stalker being manipulated by an envious cousin?
On Monday morning, the atmosphere at work was toxic.
I was walking to the breakroom when Kian materialized from the elevator bank. Our company shared a commercial building with several other tech firms, and Kian’s company occupied the floor right above ours. He had deliberately come down to find me.
“Alan,” he said, stepping into my path. He had a smug, self-satisfied grin on his face. “Did you see the upload?”
I kept my voice flat, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted. “It’s a neat piece of fiction, Kian. Cutting audio from three years ago? Pathetic, even for you.”
“It’s effective,” Kian whispered, leaning in close. “Sasha’s dad has connections. We’re going to bury you and your little girlfriend. By the time we’re done, no tech firm in the city will touch you. You’ll be a liability.”
Before I could reply, a cold, clear voice cut through the hallway.
“Get away from my engineer.”
We both turned. Renee was standing there, her eyes absolute ice. She had a tablet clutched to her chest.
Kian chuckled. “Ah, the mastermind herself. Come to pay him his next installment?”
“Kian,” Renee said, stepping directly between us. “You think you’re smart because you know how to edit a video. But you forgot one basic rule of marketing: never upload digital assets without checking the metadata.”
Kian’s smile faltered. “What are you talking about?”
Renee tapped her tablet, turning the screen toward him. “The studio you used to record that little hit piece? The IP address associated with the file upload belongs to your company's corporate network. You used your employer's high-speed servers and recording equipment during working hours to launch a personal defamation campaign.”
Kian went pale. “That’s... that doesn't mean anything.”
“It means a corporate compliance violation,” I chimed in, realizing exactly where Renee was going. My engineering brain caught up instantly. “Your company has a strict zero-tolerance policy for using corporate infrastructure for non-business public broadcasts. Especially ones that expose the firm to third-party defamation lawsuits.”
Renee smiled—a terrifying, brilliant expression. “I’ve already sent a formal cease-and-desist letter to your HR director, along with the metadata packet Alan compiled. If that video isn't down in ten minutes, your company will be named as a co-defendant in a multi-million dollar tortious interference suit.”
Kian stared at us, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His phone suddenly buzzed violently in his pocket. He pulled it out, looked at the screen—which read HR Director—and looked back at us with absolute terror.
He turned and bolted for the elevators without saying another word.
Renee looked at me, her shoulders dropping as she exhaled a long breath. “Did you actually compile a metadata packet?”
May you like
I grinned. “No, but I can make one in about thirty seconds if they ask for it.”
She laughed, a breathless, triumphant sound. “God, I love a tech guy.”
