Chapter 23 Homesick （Margot） #2
I believe he was the rock star he claims to be because he’s taken this so personally. And if his ceramics weren’t paying the bills, he didn’t skimp on the quality. They have this attention to detail that’s so rare.
Crazy or not, the man is gifted—and now that gift is useless.
All because he was born in the wrong time.
All because we live in a time where art can be fabricated by an algorithm.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying to find sympathy. “I really am. You didn’t deserve that, Lee, but you can’t believe it justifies this. Don’t you see? You can’t put that broken piece of your life back together by carving away someone else’s.”
“Like hell.” He snarls, flicking the gun up again.
“What do you know? Kane Saint’s company took my soul.
He took it, he used my work to train his beast. Just coaxed it into his palm like a butterfly and then he squashed it.
” He makes a fist, rattling it until I see the veins bulge up his arm.
“And all I could do—all I could fucking do—was watch it get murdered in slow motion. Gone in a few weeks. All so heart and soul and beauty could be replaced by a zombie running on a prompt. It’s not just a crime against me, Miss Blackthorn.
It’s an atrocity against humanity—and it’s up to me to make it right, starting tonight. ”
Yikes.
The last piece clicks into place.
Robin Hood level delusions of grandeur.
There’s nothing worse than when someone believes they’re the victim, taking up a noble cause.
It’s the kind of thought that creates assassins, tyrants, and terrorists.
I bite my lip so hard it hurts, realizing I’m face-to-face with a loose cannon.
“And you know what happened next?” he growls, lowering his gun again and pacing the small space. The wind whistles overhead, howling against the doors above. “My whole fucking life imploded.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, but he’s not looking at me anymore, too lost in his own shredded ego.
Then his face twists and there’s more than tormented rage.
“The people who were supposed to care—friends I knew for years—they blamed me for feeding my work into the training engine.”
Oh, no.
I see it now, the picture he’s painting. The poor artist whose life work has been destroyed, transformed into a hated laughingstock on top of it.
“My wife.” His voice scrapes like rust. “When I needed her most, she told me she couldn’t deal with it anymore—with me. She took the kids. And guess what, princess? The courts sided with her. No visitation rights. They said I was out of work. They called me unstable.” He spits on the floor.
“That’s awful,” I say. Awful and a hundred percent true.
His gaze snaps back to me.
“That’s nothing coming from you. You crawled into his bed.
You played house with him, one big happy family after he destroyed mine.
” He swings the flashlight, illuminating his face for a heartbeat.
Not so empty anymore. There’s a crazed, violent spark in his eyes.
“But maybe you sticking around isn’t an annoying mistake. What if it’s karma?”
I don’t know if he’s seeing me or my dead body.
It’s terrifying, watching him unravel more by the second.
He’s not remotely healthy.
It’s not hard to see why his wife must have fled. I’m sure the income and social humiliation didn’t help, but the mild-mannered interior designer and dad turned dangerous.
He became consumed.
All that killer obsession fixed on Kane and anyone close to him by default.
Not the company.
Not the executives or investors who decided to twist their own founding vision.
That poor woman must’ve been so scared for their kids if he started lashing out like this.
There’s no room for revenge in any relationship.
Holding my breath, I move slowly, pushing my hands up in front of me as I stand haltingly. I treat him like the unpredictable wild animal I don’t dare frighten.
“What are you doing? Don’t move!” he screams.
“My leg was cramped. Sorry. I’m staying right here.” I press my back against the wall. Not a threat, not a threat. “It sounds like you’ve had it super rough.”
“Yeah, well…” He scratches his neck. “It never would’ve happened if it wasn’t for that money-grubbing jockstrop bringing in enough cash to turn OptiSynth into a monster.
He was the face of it, you know. The one they trotted out to bring more investors in.
Dumb fucking ice-freak can’t be good for much else. ”
I nod, inwardly wincing.
“He fed the monster. He brought it to life. He robbed us blind!” His gun jabs the air and I jump.
“Fuck, if he hadn’t gotten all the wrong people on board, if it hadn’t launched, I wouldn’t be ruined.
At least, I wouldn’t have been tricked into slashing my own throat.
And not just me. So many people, kids just starting out who’ll never get to live off their creativity.
The children, lifeless, and their children’s children. ”
…is he sobbing now?
This man is a human land mine.
Trembling, he wipes his face.
“This… this isn’t my revenge. I’m not that selfish,” he whispers, shaking his head. “No. It’s collective vengeance. I’m just the instrument. The moral arrow always bends this way, you know. Justice. And sometimes justice can be very, very painful.”
Justice.
It’s creepy how he echoes Viola’s favorite word of the day.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep a straight face, but I have to try.
For Kane.
For the kids.
For my life.
“Lee,” I whisper, keeping my voice low like he’s a stray dog I’m trying to coax from the corner. “Listen to me, okay? Kane told me everything.”
“I bet he did. Did he also tell you how he abandoned us after they picked our bones clean? Did you know he had conference calls with artists in the pilot, dozens of us?” He curls his lip, teeth glinting white in the the flashlight. “Were you impressed how he made his money?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Bullshit! He didn’t give a flying fuck what happened to me or anyone else. He was just in it to eat and run. Now, he’ll taste lead.”
“That’s not fair!” I throw back.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from living with Kane, it’s that he doesn’t flaunt his wealth.
He doesn’t fear getting his hands dirty doing things most people with his money would hire folks for.
If I had to guess, he cares more about the kids’ college funds than whatever big nest egg he has sitting with a wealth manager.
“You still think I’m the villain, don’t you?” Lee snorts roughly, leaning forward, gun hanging loosely in his fingers as he takes my chin in his other hand and stares down at me with hollow eyes again. “Just because I’m the one holding the gun?”
“I don’t think you’re a villain, Lee.”
“Fuck yourself, princess. After I’ve dealt with your boyfriend, you’ll see. I’ll turn myself in. Guys like me get a lot of fans in prison. I don’t care about winding up behind bars. I hate violence.”
Oh, I wish he hated it now.
I reach up to touch his wrist, and he releases me.
My chin throbs from his grip, another bruise guaranteed.
“Kane didn’t know about the software replacing people until it was too late,” I venture, rubbing my chin. “He didn’t run away. He left because the other people wouldn’t listen. The way they screwed you over broke him. Honestly. He’s been beating himself up ever since.”
“Liar,” Lee spits. “You expect me to believe that?”
Up comes the gun again.
My palms sweat furiously and my pulse rocks my bones.
If I push too hard, he could kill me before I can blink.
After all, what does he have left to lose?
His life is in shambles.
And if he’s surrendering when it’s done, he’s already expecting a life sentence. Prison. What’s a little more for one more murder?
I can’t win.
But I can’t give up, either.
“Whether you believe me or not, Kane didn’t know what happened until it was too late to stop it.
Then he walked out when there was nothing more he could do.
He’s almost as mad about it as you are. You should’ve seen him when he told me about it—it killed him to be part of something that disgusting. ”
“He was responsible.”
“Not for making the calls. They decided to make the AI a replacement rather than a tool, not him. The software was meant to help designers originally. You know that, or you never would’ve joined.”
“You know nothing!” Lee slams his fist against the wall, scarily close to my head.
That shuts me up.
“You don’t get it. You can’t. You won’t.
The world must know that no one is safe from this anti-human monstrosity.
Not while it’s in the hands of people like Kane Saint.
” His words are mangled, his voice torn.
“It’s an abomination. No matter how rich or famous or powerful, there must be consequences. Saint will help me demonstrate that.”
“Demonstrate what? That you have a vendetta?”
His face curdles.
“People will understand why. It’s time the world started standing up for artists rather than fucking billionaire tech lords.”
“Look, I agree with you,” I say desperately, the tears building behind my eyes.
Crying won’t help anything, but I’m only human.
“I’m sort of an artist too. I design shoes.
I’ve been feeling the pressure from AI myself, even when I use it.
The way it invades your creativity and slowly takes over, it’s wrong. ”
“If you know all that,” he says, staring me down, “then why are you siding with Kane Saint? Are you that goddamned dick-matized?”
At least he isn’t looking at me like he wants to set me on fire now.
I think I’m getting through to him.
The rough brick scrapes my hands as I tuck them behind my back.
Keep looking, dude. I’m not a threat.