Page 93 of Mad Rivals
“A deepfake? What’s that?” she asks.
“It’s like an AI-generated photo or video. I have access to the security footage at Bradley Group, so we could find someone who can do this, give them different angles of my father’s face, and access the facial recognition software that way.”
She tilts her head as she considers the idea, but then she has a question I hadn’t really considered. “What if you get caught?”
I twist my lips, but I realize the answer to that pretty quickly. “So what? If my father is doing something shady, and he’s handing this company over to me within the next few years, don’t I deserve to know what’s going on?”
She nods. “Yeah, you do. I just don’t want you to have to do something illegal to figure out what’s going on.”
“Truth be told, I don’t know if it’s illegal.”
“Do you even know someone who could do something like that?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No. But my brother does.”
It’s pitting one family member against another. I realize this. I already know what my father would say about the family legacy. But Dex doesn’t have to know what I need this for, and it’s the pressure of that legacy leading me to do this in the first place.
I was already teetering on the edge of not wanting this company after retirement. Kennedy started to change my mind.
But I flat-out refuse to get tangled up in illegal activities because my father is hiding whatever he’s doing and using the business as a cover-up.
And I’m already convinced that it all starts with whatever is in that warehouse.
“Then make the call,” she says.
I don’t waste another second. I dial Dex, and he answers right away.
“What’s up, OG?” he answers.
He’s always called me that since I’m theoriginalson, and it stuck.
“Hey, Dex. I need a favor.”
“Anything for the bro who let me lay low in Chicago for a month.”
“When you said it’d be a week,” I say, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see me.
“Yeah, yeah. What do you need?”
“First, a question. Did your publicist ever do that deepfake thing you told me about?”
“Yeah, man. He got fake photos up that painted me in a much better light. Nobody knew the difference,” he says.
Okay, so there may be ethical issues with that, but I refrain from judging aloud since I have my own use for this. “Can you put me in touch with whoever did the deepfake for you?”
“Nah, man, no can do. My publicist didn’t tell me who it was that did it.”
“Well can’t you find out?”
“What for?” he challenges.
I don’t particularly want to let him in on what I’m up to. “I want to manipulate some videos, that’s all.”
He sighs as if he knows I’m keeping part of the story to myself. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, man,” I say, and I hang up before he can ask for more.
In the meantime, I start gathering some video footage of my father. Kennedy has her own work to do, and she’s sitting at the kitchen table lost in thought when I walk behind her…and I see what she’s working on.
