The text from Jessica came at 3:33 AM: "I know what you did."
Marcus nearly dropped his phone. The timestamp was impossible – Jessica had died two hours ago in what the police called a "tragic accident."
His phone buzzed again: "Did you think deleting our conversation would hide it? Technology never forgets, Marcus."
The screen flickered, showing their last chat. The one he'd deleted. The one where she threatened to expose his embezzlement scheme.
Another buzz: "I backed everything up to the cloud before you pushed me."
His security cameras triggered. On the feed, he saw Jessica's contact photo floating in his living room, pixelating, expanding, forming a shape.
The lights went out.
In the darkness, his phone illuminated a face – Jessica's, but wrong. Her features were composed of binary code, her eyes mere windows to endless scrolling text messages.
"Let me show you what digital revenge looks like."
His phone began to glow white-hot in his hands. He couldn't let go.