Enzo doesn't argue.
For a moment, I stare. Not at her, at the views racking up in real time. Millions of people. Thousands of comments. Fan edits. Theories. Frame-by-frame analysis.
"You sure no one was paid to boost this?" I ask.
Enzo shakes his head. "It's one hundred percent real."
"Damn, that's what I'm worried about."
Someone posted:
"The way he steps out of the car? That man has body count energy. I'm obsessed."
Another:
"He's not hot. He's dangerous. There's a difference. And I still want him."
And the one that hits too close to home:
"He's not scared to be seen. Which means he's the one people fear."
Un-fucking-believable.
All it took was one careless moment by a woman too addicted to the glow of her own reflection to notice what she caught in thebackground. She didn't do this on purpose. That's what makes it worse. Because if it'd been deliberate, I could end it immediately and clean up the damage.
But this insanity?
This is the algorithm. This is eight million faceless strangers grabbing at pieces of me I never wanted to share.
"You want her gone?" Enzo asks. "Want me to take care of her?"
I don't answer right away. She didn't betray me, she simply existed in her own pointless life. She pointed a camera at the wrong moment, and the world saw what it wanted to see, an interesting story. A mystery to obsess over for God knows how long.
I glance back at the paused video. The girl is mid-laugh, oblivious. I can see it now, the precise second she thought she was being adored, not realizing the world had already moved on.
They weren't looking at her anymore.
They were looking atme.
And now I'm the big story.
"So, what's the move, boss? Do we silence the noise or do we amplify it?"
I close my eyes for a second. "Silence the noise."
"It's already out there. You can't put the genie back in the bottle."
"I'm not trying to put it back. I'm trying to control the narrative. We find her, we make her understand what she's done and then we make her fix it."
Enzo grunts. "And if she can't fix it? Or won't fix it?"
"Then we consider other options." The thought of all those eyes on me, dissecting my life, makes my stomach clench.
"You know, some guys would kill for this kind of attention," Enzo says, almost to himself. "Mysterious, dangerous. It's catnip for the masses if you know how to spin it."
"It's a target on my goddamn back. Every time some idiot posts a screengrab, they're painting a bigger target. You understand that, right?"
"I understand. But you've always been good at turning bad situations to your advantage."
