Page 2 of About Last Night

“Sure thing. I’m about five minutes away.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

I ended the call and then walked out to my back patio. I lived a luxurious life. No one would have any clue how empty it sometimes felt. I stared at the crystalline blue water in my pool and watched the water ripple from the cool breeze. It was soothing in a way, and I got lost in watching the gentle movement until I felt my phone buzz in my hand.

I lifted it up and frowned when I saw a text from an unknown number.

I heard my front door open right as I opened the text, and all the blood drained from my face.

“Brynn!” Stella shouted, and the panic in her tone broke me out of my shock.

I spun around to face her, and her face looked as pale as I imagined mine did. She held a box in her hand that was open.

“There was no sender address, and the gate guard said with all the chaos with the paps he didn’t see who actually dropped it off. I thought that was strange, but then it started ringing and the guard opened it to make sure it wasn’t a bomb or something.”

She held the box out to me and I set my phone face down on the patio table. I took the box from her and set it down. There was a piece of plain white paper open on the top that had clearly caused Stella’s concern. The message was typed: I’M COMING FOR YOU. A cheap phone was beneath it, and it was already open displaying the text message and photo I’d just seen on my own phone.

Unknown

YOU’RE A STUPID SLUT WHO DESERVES EVERYTHING COMING TO YOU.

The picture was of a very well done deepfake video of me bleeding to death.

“Brynn, we need to hire better security. This psycho was at the gate!”

I stared at the video playing on repeat. It was short, probably only five seconds, but it played on a loop. I’d had stalkers before—no one got to my level of fame without them—but never this deranged.

Never this violent.

Stella was talking, but I couldn’t hear her over the whooshing in my ears as I stared down at the too realistic video of my death.

I’d kept my composure while my name was being dragged through the mud by my ex and through all the times people had come at me because of my success.

But this…

This was too much.

For the first time in a long time, I felt fear for my safety and wondered if this life—the music, the fame, the constant scrutiny—was worth it.

DON’T JUDGE YOUR CLIENT’S BEHAVIOR

Wyatt

My job required me to be attentive at all times, but I sure as shit didn’t sign up to listen to the client join the mile high club with a flight attendant.

“Fuck yeah, feel this big dick.”

A moan that would make a porn star proud broke through the otherwise silent jet, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

I really needed to get Raf to transfer me to a different assignment.

Normally I could ignore the inappropriate behavior of the clients and focus on doing my job with my usual stoic reserve. Lately, though, I’d had a harder time keeping a neutral expression. Maybe it was this particular client—he never listened to any of my safety briefs, talked down to women, and didn’t tip his servers.

And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

I scanned the cabin of the plane, but his secretary was enjoying her reprieve from his sexual advances, and the other flight attendant was trying a little too hard to pretend like she had no idea what her counterpart was doing in the bathroom.

I pulled out my phone and shot off a message to my boss and friend, Rafferty Carmichael—the owner of Carmichael Security.