Lily's pov

Lily sat in her car outside the hotel for a full minute after leaving your room, hands gripping the steering wheel. The engine was still off. Her mind was racing.

She hated how broken you looked.

She hated that a tiny, annoying part of her was starting to doubt the story.

But she also hated the idea of being wrong… and the idea of her father finding out she had even a shred of doubt.

She pulled out her phone and opened the private chat with Emma.

Lily:

“Just left his hotel room.

He’s still a sad fucking cuck in there, drinking alone and looking completely destroyed. Sat there crying about how he ‘never cheated’ and how much he loves you.

I’m sorry he ever did this to you, Em. You didn’t deserve any of it.

Also… please don’t tell Dad or Mom I came here. And don’t tell anyone I even slightly questioned the photos. I still think he’s full of shit, but… just keep this between us, okay? I don’t need the drama.”

She hit send, then stared at the screen for a few seconds before adding one more message.

Lily:

“He’s really fucked up over this though. Never seen him like that. Anyway. Hope Dad’s taking good care of you tonight ”

She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, started the car, and drove off into the night — trying to push down the uncomfortable feeling that something about this whole situation still didn’t sit right.

Back in the present timeline (your hotel room), your phone is still quiet for now… but Lily’s text has already reached Emma.

Lily pulled into the driveway and sat in the car for another minute before finally getting out. The house was quiet except for the soft glow of the office light downstairs.

When she walked in, Mark looked up from his computer with a tired but warm smile.

“Hey, babe. You’re home late. Everything okay?”

Lily forced a small smile and walked over, kissing the top of his head.

“Yeah… just had to check on something. Family stuff.”

She stood behind his chair, looking at the multiple monitors. Code, browser tabs, design software — Mark was deep in some project as usual. Her eyes drifted over the screens while the same thought kept looping in her head:

AI photos… deepfakes… is that even real?

She hesitated, chewing her lip. Mark still had no idea about the whole mess with you, Emma, and their father. As far as he knew, everything was normal.

After a long pause, she spoke carefully, trying to sound casual.

“…Hey, random question.”

Mark glanced back at her. “Yeah?”

Lily folded her arms, eyes still on the computer.

“Do you know if there’s… like… technology that can make fake photos of people? Really realistic ones. Like, putting someone’s face on another person’s body so well that it looks real?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, curious but not suspicious.

“You mean deepfakes? Or AI-generated images?”

Lily’s heart skipped a little.

“Yeah… that. Is it actually a thing people can do easily?”

Mark leaned back in his chair and nodded.

“Oh yeah, it’s gotten crazy good the last couple of years. With the right software and a few clear photos of someone’s face, you can generate almost anything — kissing scenes, intimate stuff, whatever. Some of it is hard to tell from real photos if you don’t know what to look for. Why? Something up?”

Lily stayed quiet for a moment, the pieces shifting uncomfortably in her mind.

“…Just something I heard,” she said softly. “Curious, that’s all.”

She forced another smile, kissed his cheek, and headed upstairs to change — the word deepfake now looping in her head even louder than before.

An hour later, Mark finally shut down his computer and came upstairs. Lily was already in bed, lying on her side, phone in hand, staring at the ceiling. The word deepfake still wouldn’t leave her head.

Mark slid under the covers and turned toward her.

“You still awake?”

Lily rolled over to face him. She hesitated for a few seconds, then spoke carefully.

“…That thing we talked about earlier. The deepfake stuff. Is it possible to tell the difference? Like… if a picture has been altered that way, are there signs? Or is it basically impossible to know?”

Mark propped himself up on one elbow, looking more interested now.

“Sometimes you can tell. Depends on how good the generation is. Common signs are weird lighting, unnatural skin texture, weird edges around the face or hair, inconsistent shadows, or the eyes looking a bit off. Higher-end ones are getting harder to spot though, especially if someone knows what they’re doing.”

Lily was quiet for a moment. Then she unlocked her phone, scrolled to one of the photos that had been shared in the family group chat — the clear image of you kissing a blonde girl in what looked like a bar — and turned the screen toward him.

“What about this one?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. “Does this look real to you… or altered?”

Mark took the phone and studied the image carefully, zooming in on your face, the girl’s face, the lighting, the edges where the skin met.

He frowned slightly.

“…Huh.”

He zoomed in further, then tilted the phone under the bedside lamp.

“This one’s actually pretty good… but there are some red flags. Look at the edge of his jaw here — the skin texture doesn’t quite match the rest of his face. And the lighting on his cheek is a little off compared to the background. The girl’s hair also blends weirdly near his ear. It’s not obvious at first glance, but if I had to guess… this looks generated. Or at least heavily edited with AI.”

He handed the phone back to her.

“Why? Whose picture is that?”

Lily stared at the screen, her stomach twisting. She didn’t answer right away.

“…Just something that’s been going around,” she finally said, voice quieter than before. “Thanks.”

She locked the phone and set it on the nightstand, then turned off the light. In the dark, she lay still, eyes open, the uncomfortable realization settling deeper.

Lily now has real confirmation from someone who knows tech that the photo looks fake.