Chapter 4 - The Frame-Up Captured in 4K"Right away, Ms. Vivienne."
The technician pressed a button on his remote. Instantly, the massive projector screen—usually reserved for displaying romantic slideshows of Chloe and Dominic—flashed to life.
High-definition, crystal-clear footage filled the giant screen.
The camera angle was sharp, positioned from above the ballroom entrance. It clearly showed the corner near the dessert bar.
There was Chloe. There was Amanda.
The room watched in stunned silence as the video played at normal speed. On screen, Chloe and Amanda were huddled together behind a towering pillar, completely out of sight of the main crowd, whispering frantically.
The audio—crisp and enhanced by the hotel’s high-end directional microphones—began to play through the ballroom’s surround-sound system.
“She’s pregnant and vulnerable, Amanda,” Chloe’s voice echoed clearly from the speakers, dripping with malice. “If we plant the ring in her coat pocket while she’s at the champagne fountain, everyone will blame her. My parents will tear her apart publicly, and Dominic won’t say a word because he’s a coward.”
“Are you sure?” Amanda’s voice replied on the tape. “What if she finds it?”
“She won’t! And even if she does, she’s too pathetic to fight back. Do it! Make sure it’s in her pocket. Then I’ll scream, we’ll accuse her, and she’ll be thrown out in disgrace before the reception even starts!”
A collective gasp ripped through the two hundred guests. Heads snapped toward Chloe, whose face had drained of every drop of color. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.
"No—no! That’s fake! That’s AI! That’s a deepfake!" Chloe shrieked, clawing at the air, her bridal veil tearing loose from her hair. "She hacked the system! She framed us!"
"Keep watching, Ms. Miller," Director Vance said coldly. "The cameras don't use AI. They use physics."
The video on the screen kept playing.
It showed Amanda nervously slipping her hand toward my coat pocket hanging on the chair—except, at the very last second, a passing waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses accidentally bumped directly into Amanda's elbow.
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The million-dollar diamond ring flew out of Amanda's grip, bounced off the edge of the marble table, and skittered across the floor—not into my coat, but straight into Amanda’s own silver evening purse as she scrambled to catch it.
Realizing what had happened, and seeing me turn around because of the noise, Amanda panicked, zipped her purse shut, and stood frozen as Chloe—oblivious to the mishap—began her theatrical scream for the ring.
