"What is this?" I whisper, my hands flying to my mouth.

He flips his laptop open one more time and shows me a still image of the deepfake. Me. Wearing the exact same outfit.

"Proof," he replies, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "Proof that we’ve been wanting to fuck you."

I stand in the center of Daniel’s room, my brain spinning in circles. The silence of the house feels heavy now that our parents are gone. Is he gaslighting me? Is my mother—the woman who raised me—actually capable of something so twisted?

The worst part isn't the shock. It’s the heat pooling between my legs. Why does...