Chapter 6 #2
Someone had uploaded that video. Someone had taken the footage and posted it on my official channel. And I had a pretty good idea who.
It had to be Jamie.
I found her in the main building dining area, sitting at one of the long tables with a plate of eggs and toast and her phone propped against a coffee mug, scrolling while she ate. The laptop was open beside her. She looked up when I walked in, and the color drained from her face.
“Graham.” She set her fork down and stood, the chair scraping against the floor. “I was going to come find you—”
“Sit down.”
She sat. Her eggs would go cold. I didn’t care.
I stayed standing. Arms crossed. The anger I’d been sitting on all night finally finding a target.
“The video,” I said. “Your access credentials.”
“I didn’t post it.” The words came fast, her eyes wide. “I know what it looks like—”
“It looks like you recorded a private moment in that barn, then uploaded it to my channel with a caption designed to go viral.” I kept my voice level but it cost me. “Three million views, Jamie.”
“Actually,” she said, her voice small, “we’re at five million now.”
I stared at her.
She winced. “Sorry. But Graham, I swear to you—”
“You’ve been on your phone nonstop since we got here. Filming everything. Pushing for content. You were told no filming of Rose, and you recorded her anyway.”
“Yes.” Jamie’s voice cracked. “I came to check on you. Saw you with Rose, tending to the spooked horse. I recorded it. I shouldn’t have. But it was such a cool moment. I didn’t upload it, though. I didn’t even open the channel app last night.”
“Then explain to me how it got posted from your account?”
“I don’t know!” She was crying now, mascara already smudging. “I’ve been trying to figure that out.” She dragged a hand across her face. “Maybe someone hacked the account. Hacked my phone. It happens. Channels our size get targeted all the time, you know that.”
I stared at her. Part of me wanted to believe her.
“You expect me to believe someone else logged into your account, hacked into your phone?”
“I know how it sounds—”
“It sounds like you got caught.”
Jamie flinched like I’d slapped her. She opened her mouth to respond, but another voice cut in from the doorway.
“I believe her.”
I turned. Dex was leaning against the frame, his expression the particular kind of calm he reserved for situations where someone was about to do something stupid.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked.
“Long enough.” He pushed off the frame and walked in. Dex looked at Jamie. “Did you leave your phone unattended yesterday?”
Jamie wiped her eyes, then her entire face lit up. “I did. In the lounge. After the storm. I was showing Denise the footage and went to the bathroom. I left it on the couch for maybe five minutes.”
The room got very quiet.
Dex said it before I could think it. “It had to have been Denise.”
“No.” I shook my head. “That doesn’t track.”
“It tracks perfectly.” Dex’s voice was calm but insistent.
“Jamie shows Denise the footage. Denise sees Jamie punch in her code to the phone and memorizes it. Jamie leaves the room. Five minutes is more than enough time to open a browser, post the video, and close the tab. Jamie comes back, phone’s exactly where she left it. Nothing looks touched.”
“Denise is Rose’s business partner. Her best friend, basically. Why would she want a video of Rose going viral?”
“Because it’s literally her job?” Dex said it like it was obvious.
“She’s Rose’s admin person. She drives bookings.
She runs the socials. And she strikes me as the type who’d bend a few rules if she thought the end result justified it.
Maybe when she saw that footage on Jamie’s phone she thought: jackpot.
Free publicity. Millions of eyeballs on the ranch overnight. ”
I looked at Jamie, who was watching the exchange with red-rimmed eyes and desperate hope, the expression of someone who might not get fired after all.
“Or maybe Jamie’s right and the account got hacked,” I said. “Channels our size get targeted constantly. Could’ve been a fan who got hold of login credentials. Could’ve been a hundred things that don’t involve Rose’s best friend committing a crime in her own living room.”
Dex gave me a look. “You really think some random hacker grabbed one specific unreleased video off Jamie’s phone and posted it with a clickbait caption?”
When he put it like that, it sounded thin. But so did the alternative.
“I think accusing the person Rose depends on most, based on a bathroom break and a theory, would do more damage than the video already has.”
“Fine.” Dex held up both hands. “Then who did it?”
Silence.
I looked back at Jamie. She looked wrecked. Eyes swollen, shoulders hunched, the posture of someone bracing for the axe to fall.
“I was going to fire you,” I said honestly.
Jamie’s breath hitched.
“But I’m not going to. Not yet.” Our eyes met. “Not until I’ve talked to Rose and figured out what actually happened. If it turns out you’re lying to me—”
“I’m not,” she whispered.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” I moved toward the door, then stopped. “No more recording. No more posting. Nothing. Dex handles everything from this point forward. And Jamie?”
She looked up.
“Keep this conversation between us. Don’t tell anyone. Especially not Denise.”
She nodded quickly.
Dex followed me into the hallway.
“You know it’s most likely Denise,” he said, low enough that Jamie couldn’t hear.
“Maybe. But like I said, I’m not going to accuse Rose’s closest friend based on a browser log and a theory.”
Dex studied me for a beat, then shifted gears. “By the way. Just got off the phone with Red Bull. They want to extend the contract. Subscribers are up half a million since last night. PR’s lighting up. They want a statement, a follow-up video, the whole playbook.”
Half a million new subscribers. Because a private moment with Rose got turned into content without her consent.
“No.”
“I told them you might say that.” He pulled up something on his phone, showed me a graph with a spike so steep it looked like a cliff face. “From a pure numbers standpoint? This is the best thing that’s happened to the channel in years.”
“Tell the sponsors we’re not doing follow-up content. Tell PR there’s no statement. And tell anyone who calls that Fraser Kincaid is not available for comment.”
Dex pocketed his phone. “Man, you’ve got it bad.”
“So what if I do? What’s it to you?”
“Everything. You got it bad enough to walk away from the best numbers we’ve had in two fucking years?”
I thought about Kaya’s words. After half a decade of struggling against prejudice, the town that had finally started to see Rose as something other than Silicon Valley money with red hair.
“It’s not about numbers, Dex. This is her life. Not a storyline. Not a narrative arc for the channel. Her actual life.”
Dex was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded slowly, the way he did when he’d lost an argument he knew was right to lose.
“What’s the plan?”
“I need to talk to her.”
“I doubt she wants to talk to you. That should be pretty clear at this point.”
“The least I can do is try.” I pulled on my jacket. “So I’ll give it a shot and take whatever she throws at me.”
“Literally throws? Because I’ve seen her throw a hay bale, and frankly her arm is—”
“Dex.”
He held up both hands. “Go talk to her. Let me know if I need to go pack.”
He disappeared down the hall.
Rose deserved to hear it from me. All of it. Just the truth about who I was, why I’d lied, and what I was willing to do to make it right.
Even if she slammed the door.
The walk to Rose’s cabin took three minutes. It felt like thirty.
Her curtains were drawn. No lights. No sound. The kind of quiet that could mean she was sleeping, or could mean she was sitting in the dark sharpening knives.
I climbed the porch steps.
Stood in front of her door.
And knocked.