My Ghost Stream Exposed My Killer

It had been five years since my death, and the thing that finally woke my dormant soul was the blinding glare of a ring light.

A group of ghost-hunting streamers had breached the rotting doors of the cabin.

And they had found my phone.

The live chat on their screen was already scrolling at a dizzying speed:

"Turn it on! Maybe Jaxs evil spirit is actually hot!"

The screen flickered to life. My face, pale and smiling faintly, was still the lock screen.

"Oh, what the hell. Its that Montgomery trash. The one who pawned his dead moms heirloom to blow cash on high-end escorts."

The streamers didnt stop there. They dug through the debris, their flashlights cutting through the dust, until they found my bones.

One of them reached down, his gloved fingers wrapping around the hilt of the hunting knife still wedged deeply into my skull.

"Karmas a bitch," the guy muttered, spitting on the floor.

"Honestly, I kind of want to stab him a few more times myself. Hey Jax, why don't we grind his bones to dust and scatter him? Give the internet some closure."

Jax, the lead streamer, looked dead into the camera lens with a manic grin.

"Don't worry, chat. Well make sure everyone goes home happy tonight."

My murder. My rotting corpse. It was nothing but a carnival to them. A digital lynching.

They decided, right then and there, to air every single video saved on my phone to their tens of thousands of viewers.

"Victoria. Hey, Victoria. They found your brother."

Inside the dimly lit, velvet-lined VIP booth of a Manhattan nightclub, the music seemed to fade as every pair of eyes turned toward Victoria Montgomery.

Her hand, holding a crystal martini glass, didn't even tremble. Her eyes were chips of ice.

"As far as I'm concerned, he died in the gutter years ago."

"No, Victoria, he's actually dead."

Her friend slid a phone across the marble table. "The live chat is talking about grinding his bones to dust. It looks like he was murdered. Someone drove a knife straight through his head."

Victoria didn't miss a beat.

"He had it coming." She took a slow sip of her drink. "He chose to wallow in his own filth rather than just apologize to Simon. And my mothers locket he chose to take its location to his grave. Let him rot."

Sitting practically in her lap, Simonthe adopted golden child of the Montgomery familywrapped his arms around Victorias neck, his face buried in her shoulder.

"Vicky, please don't be mad," Simon whispered, his voice trembling perfectly. A single, pristine tear slipped down his cheek. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't come into the family, you two wouldn't have been torn apart."

"I don't blame him anymore," Simon continued, his voice thick with rehearsed martyrdom. "No matter what, hes the blood heir of the Montgomerys. Im just the charity case. I never had the right to compete with him."

Victorias icy exterior melted instantly. She pulled him into a fiercely protective hug.

"Stop being so endlessly forgiving, Simon," she scolded softly. "But... since hes gone, we can't let those internet bottom-feeders desecrate his remains. Let's have him collected and buried properly."

She praised Simon's gentle heart, then irritably dialed her assistant to handle the grim logistics.

But as she hung up, her gaze drifted back to the livestream playing on the table.

Back in the decaying cabin, Jax and his crew were tearing my final sanctuary apart. It wasn't a large space, but they were tossing it like a DEA raid. They pried open my rusted footlocker.

Inside, there were only two sets of moth-eaten clothes, and a meticulously wrapped bundle. Inside the waterproof plastic was a single, framed family portrait.

"This doesn't look like the stash of a billionaire heir," one of the crew muttered.

"You idiot, he got disowned for abusing his adopted brother. Obviously he was broke."

"Look at the photo. He literally scratched the adopted brother's face out. Jesus, the resentment is real."

Suddenly, the cameraman hoisted my phone up like a trophy.

"Yo! Chat! I got past the lock screen!"

The chat exploded into a digital frenzy.

"YES! Open the camera roll. Let's see what kind of sick stash this psycho was hiding."

Chasing the dopamine hit of pure traffic, Jax eagerly obliged.

He opened the photo gallery first.

Back in the VIP room, Simon dug his manicured fingers into Victoria's sleeve.

"Vicky, they can't just go through his phone! That's his private life. What if..." His eyes darted nervously.

Just then, Victorias phone buzzed. It was our father, Richard.

"I heard they found the boy's remains," my fathers gruff, dismissive voice came through the speaker. "Couldn't even die quietly without causing a scandal. I washed my hands of him years ago. Just... make sure you comfort Simon. You know how he gets night terrors just hearing Cole's name."

My fathers words perfectly mirrored Victorias own thoughts. She murmured an agreement and hung up.

On the livestream, Jax pulled up a scanned document from my photos.

"Holy shit. Justice is served! This piece of trash had terminal stomach cancer!"

"Wow, the guy who stabbed him actually did him a favor. Spared him the chemo."

"Wait, look at the date on the pathology report. Thats the exact same day Victoria Montgomery released the press statement legally severing all ties with him."

"Poetic cinema. Dumped by his family and handed a death sentence on the same day. He must have lost his mind."

The vitriol rolled across the screen in endless waves.

I couldn't feel the phantom pain of my cancer anymore. But the ache in my chest? That was entirely different. It wasn't just the internet that had destroyed me. It was the fact that, even in death, I was forced to wear the skin of a monster.

Finally, Jax tapped on the video folder.

"Alright chat, let's do this chronologically."

He tapped the very first thumbnail.

It was my tenth birthday.

Mom was still alive. She was radiant, her hands gently clasping an antique gold locket around my neck.

"Cole, my sweet boy," her voice crackled through the phone's tiny speakers, warm and full of life. "My mother gave this to me, and now it belongs to you. I want it to keep you safe. I want your life to be smooth and beautiful."

She pulled me into a tight hug. Victoria was standing right beside us, grinning, while Dad looked on with a softness he rarely showed the world. We posed in front of a massive, tiered cake.

It was the only photo of all of us together that I had managed to save.

In the video, ten-year-old me was running around in circles, Victoria chasing after me, yelling at me not to trip. Mom and Dad were holding hands, sharing a quiet, knowing smile.

I ran up to the lens, breathless and beaming. "I'm the happiest kid in the world! I wish I could spend every single birthday with Mom, Dad, and Vicky forever!"

Thirteen-year-old Victoria popped into the frame, nodding fiercely. "You're our little prince, Cole. I promise, I'll make sure that wish comes true."

In the nightclub, someone had AirPlayed the stream to the massive flat-screen above the bar. Everyone in the room was watching. Most of them had been at that exact party.

"God, who would have thought? He used to be this sweet, soft kid following Victoria around like a shadow. How did he turn into such a sociopath?"

"He just didn't know when to quit. If he had just swallowed his pride and apologized to Victoria, hed still be alive."

"Victoria didn't pull her punches, though. Banished over a piece of jewelry..."

"You don't get it. Their mom died saving Cole and Simon. Victoria would have forgiven Cole for burning the house down, but pawning their dead mother's heirloom? That was the ultimate betrayal."

Victoria sat rigidly on the leather sofa, suffocating in her silence.

Ever since she kicked me out, the vibrant, laughing older sister I knew had vanished. She became fiercely, ruthlessly protectivebut not of me. Of Simon.

Whatever I used to have, Simon got. Whatever I asked for, she bought double for him. Maybe to spite me. Maybe to break me. Every time I saw a tabloid headline about Victoria dropping millions on a new loft or a sports car for Simon, I felt nothing.

We had been so perfect once.

But the day they brought Simon home from the foster system, the rot began.

Seeing Victoria caught in the memory, Simon panicked. He grabbed her hand. "Vicky, it's my fault. If you hadn't brought me into this house, Cole wouldn't have acted out. Mom wouldn't have died."

"Mom died because she was protecting both of you," Victoria snapped, the nostalgic haze instantly burning away into hard anger. "Cole is the one who took her sacrifice and spat on it. He dared to do that."

"It's just a shame," she murmured, her voice cracking slightly. "I never found the locket."

Simons eyes darted away for a fraction of a second. "I actually hired an artisan to make an exact replica for you, Vicky. Maybe... maybe Cole just really needed the cash for something important."

"I had my investigators track the cash," Victoria scoffed, her face twisting in disgust. "He blew it all on VIP bottle service and high-end escorts."

She patted Simons hand, her voice rising so everyone in the room could hear. "A man who sells his mother's soul to buy a night with a whore is no brother of mine!"

Her friends chimed in, eager to soothe her.

"Let it go, Vic. He's dead. Like the chat said, karma handled it."

"Wonder who actually killed him, though."

"Who cares? Victoria, if he had crawled back and told you he had cancer, would you have paid for his treatment?"

Victorias eyes narrowed. "I would have told him to die faster."

On the stream, Jax clicked the second video.

My phone didn't have many videos. They had just watched the only happy one.

The second video was pitch black. There was only audio: the deafening roar of wind, chaotic muffled sounds, and the violent screech of tires.

It was the day of the car crash. Mom was driving Simon and me back from the amusement park.

I had been half-asleep in the backseat. The audio captured Moms sharp, panicked voice: "Simon, stop! Don't touch that!"

Ever since Simon arrived, I felt like I was losing my mind. Every time he spoke to me alone, it somehow ended with me being punished. Everyone looked at me like I was broken, malicious.

So, terrified and desperate, I had started wearing a tiny, discreet GoPro clipped to my jacket zipper. I recorded my days, just to have proof of reality. Especially when I was alone with Simon.

This was the final moment of my mothers life. I had never been able to watch it. I had only dumped the file onto my phone for safekeeping.

Now, I was experiencing it alongside thousands of strangers.

Suddenly, the black video shiftedthe camera must have been knocked loose. The lens flared, catching the front seat.

Simon, practically crawling over the center console, violently yanked the steering wheel toward him.

"I won't go back! You can't send me back to the group home!" he screamed.

CRASH.

The horrifying sound of metal crushing metal. The car rolling.

Mom took the brunt of the impact. The camera caught her pinned, bleeding heavily. But she wasn't screaming in pain. She was desperately calling my name.

The camera angle shifted dizzily as I dragged my small, battered body toward her.

Mom reached out with a trembling, blood-soaked hand. She used the last ounce of breath in her lungs.

"Cole... my brave boy. Live a good life. Protect your sister. And... tell your father... he has to send Simon away. Do you hear me? Send him away..."

Sirens wailed in the background. The video cut out.

The aftermath was a memory seared into my soul. They put a white sheet over her. Simon wailed, putting on a performance of grief so absolute it shook the police officers.

Dad and Victoria arrived at the precinct, hollowed out by grief. When they asked if Mom had said anything at the end, I told them the truth. I told them her dying wish was to send Simon away.

Simon threw himself onto the linoleum floor, shrieking, hyperventilating, begging Dad and Victoria not to throw him away.

And then, my father slapped me across the face.

"Cole Montgomery! Its bad enough you bully your brother in private, but now youre fabricating your mothers dying words? She loved you both! She would never say that! You make me sick."

I had sobbed, holding my stinging cheek. "Dad, Vicky, please, I have it on camera! I can prove it!"

But they were already walking away, carrying Simon in their arms.

In the abandoned cabin, Jax and his crew stood frozen.

"Wait," one of the crew whispered. "This kid... he caused the crash? He murdered his adoptive mom because he didn't want to get sent back to foster care?"

"Jesus Christ. This is some psycho 'Talented Mr. Ripley' shit. He killed the mom, played the victim, and turned the family against the real son."

"Is this real? I thought Simon was this sweet, philanthropic actor. Did he really grab the wheel?"

In the VIP room, the silence was suffocating. Victoria stared at the screen, all the blood draining from her face. Slowly, mechanically, she turned her head to look at Simon.

"You," she whispered, her voice fracturing. "You killed my mother?"

"She gave you everything, and you pulled the wheel?"

The realization hit her like a physical blow. "So that day at the precinct... Cole was telling the truth. Why? Why was she going to send you back?"

Victorias chest heaved. Her mother was sacred. When Victoria had arrived at the crash site, seeing her mother crushed and her two little brothers covered in blood, she had sworn over her mother's body that she would protect them both.

And now, she was realizing that one brother was dead, and the other was the reason her mother was in the ground.

Simon panicked. He dropped to his knees right there in the VIP booth, grabbing Victorias dress.

"Vicky, please! I was just a kid! I was terrified! Mom figured out that I was the one who broke Dads antique vase, not Cole. She said she was going to call the agency. I just... I just wanted to stop the car so I could beg her!"

"I didn't know the car would flip! I swear to God! I've spent every day of my life trying to make it up to you! I've been repenting for a decade!"

"Vicky, I'm so sorry! Please don't hate me!"

Victorias mind was short-circuiting. Her mothers dying, blood-choked words echoed through the clubs speakers.

Protect your sister. Send Simon away.

Suddenly, Blair Kensingtonmy former fiancestepped forward, placing a manicured hand on Victorias shoulder.

"Vic, take a breath. Simon made a horrible mistake, but he was literally a traumatized child. He's still the brother you raised and loved."

"If your mother hadn't threatened to abandon him over a vase, he wouldn't have panicked. He was insecure. And let's be honest, you guys only made Cole kneel in the hallway for a few days over the vase anyway. It wasn't a big deal."

Victoria let out a shaky breath.

Even if they had wrongly accused Cole of breaking the vase, did he really have to hold a grudge against Simon for years? Mom overreacted by threatening to send a foster kid back over something so trivial.

"Get up," Victoria said, her voice hollow. "Stop crying. We can't change the past."

"I love you, Vicky. Id die for you," Simon whimpered, standing up and burying his face in his hands. He let out a breath of immense relief. He had survived the landmine.

Under the table, his fingers flew across his phone, texting frantically.

[Where the fuck are your guys? If they keep streaming, the rest of it is going to get out. Cut the power!]

But the massive screen above them kept playing.

Blair noticed Simon shaking and wrapped an arm around him. "Don't worry," she whispered. "Cole is dead. He can't hurt you anymore."

"But... he was your fianc, Blair," Simon murmured, looking up through his lashes.

Victoria snapped her head toward Blair. The chat's accusations of a "fake heir" destroying the "real heir" were beginning to burn like acid in her brain. How could her sweet, devoted Simon be the monster the internet was painting him as?

"Let's see what else the dead boy kept on his phone," Victoria commanded, her voice like cracking ice.

Video Three.

"Tell me, Cole. If I fall into this pond right now, who is Blair going to believe? You, or me?"

Simons voice. But it wasn't the trembling, sweet voice he used in the VIP room. It was dripping with venom and mockery.

On the screen, my own voice answered, exhausted and utterly defeated.

"What more do you want from me? You stole my father. You stole my sister. Now you're taking the woman I was supposed to marry. What is the endgame here?"

Simon, leaning against the stone railing of our estate's koi pond, smiled. It was a terrifying, dead-eyed smile.

"As long as you exist, I'm in danger. The blood heir. You make me nervous. So, I need them to despise you. I need them to abuse you. I need them to want you dead. I won't be able to sleep until you're in the ground."

He stepped closer to the hidden camera on my chest.

"Why do you get to be born into billions? I was thrown into a literal dumpster in January. If a sanitation worker hadn't heard me crying, I would have frozen to death."

"Do you know what the group homes are like? Rich people like your parents show up around Thanksgiving, hand out cheap toys, and make us smile for the cameras so they can feel like saints. And then they use us as cautionary tales for their own spoiled brats."

Simon's face twisted into pure malice.

"The day I saw you standing in the orphanage lobby in your custom little suit, looking so soft and loved, I made a promise to myself. I was going to take your life. All of it."

My voice trembled in the recording. "You set me up... you manipulated me into bringing you to my mother so she would pity you?"

"Bingo!"

With that word, Simon suddenly grabbed my wrists, yanking them toward his own chest, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Cole! No! I promise I'll stay away from Blair! Please don't push me!"

SPLASH.

He threw himself backward into the deep water.

Seconds later, Blair sprinted into the frame. Without a second of hesitation, she shoved me violently into the water and dove in to rescue Simon.

The camera caught the underwater chaos, and then the aftermath on the grass. Blair cradling a "shivering" Simon, shooting me a look of absolute disgust.

The next cut in the video was Blair marching into Victorias home office.

"I will not marry a psychopath who tries to drown his own brother," Blair demanded. "The engagement is off. If our families need a merger, I'll marry Simon. At least he has a soul."

Ever since I was twelve and someoneI never saw whopushed me into a lake, I had been deathly afraid of water. I had almost drowned in that koi pond. But when I finally coughed up the water and opened my eyes, there was no concern. Only Victoria, standing over me, her eyes filled with revulsion.

"The Kensington engagement is off. If you pull a stunt like this again, Cole, I'll have you committed to an institution abroad."

The viewers in the livestream, and the elites in the VIP room, fell into a stunned, horrified silence.

"Bro. Simon isn't just an opportunist. He's a straight-up predator."

"Imagine being Cole. Your own sister and your fianc literally acting like Helen Keller when the truth is right there."

"He literally confessed to a psychological takeover of the family. He wanted the 'true son' dead."

"I used to think Simon was this brilliant method actor. Turns out he's just a sociopath playing himself."

"Wait, is the sister watching this? Does she realize she's been the attack dog for the guy who murdered her mom and destroyed her brother?"

"Hold up, let's not make Cole a saint yet. He still pawned his dead moms locket to buy hookers. Theyre both trash."

In the club, Victorias fists were clenched so tight her knuckles were stark white.

Everyone in the room was glancing nervously between Victoria, Blair, and Simon.

"Vic," Blair stammered, her arrogance faltering. "You... you know how manipulative Cole is. He probably deep-faked that audio. Or provoked Simon into saying it!"

When Victoria didn't answer, Blair doubled down. "Simon is gentle! He wouldn't orchestrate something like that!"

Victoria slowly turned her head. Her expression was completely unreadable.

"Shut up."

She locked eyes with Simon. "Did he push you, or did you throw yourself in?"

"Are you seriously interrogating him right now?" Blair shrilled. "I knew it! Deep down, you still prioritize that toxic blood brother over Simon!"

"I am speaking to him," Victoria roared, the sound cutting through the club like a gunshot.

She desperately, painfully didn't want to believe that the boy she had babied for years was the monster on that screen.

"I... I don't know," Simon stuttered, tears welling up instantly. "Vicky, I swear, I never wanted to hurt him!"

Victoria stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. Then, she let out a slow exhale. "Okay."

Blair let out a breath of relief. "See? I told you. You can't trust anything Cole touched."

The next few videos were painfully mundane. They were recordings of my design sketches, my architectural concepts, my late-night brainstorms.

And then, screenshots of those exact same designs, published under Simons name. He had stolen my portfolio to launch his own design firm.

When I tried to fight back, I was blacklisted. Every firm in the city told me the same thing: Victoria Montgomery had personally ordered them not to hire me.

To survive, I had resorted to collecting scrap metal and recycling.

The audio of a phone call with Victoria played over a video of my blistered, filthy hands.

"Just apologize to Simon," her voice was tired and condescending over the line. "Admit you plagiarized his work. If you do, I'll talk to Dad. The Montgomery trust can keep you comfortable for ten lifetimes. Why are you embarrassing us by digging through trash?"

"Because he stole them from me, Vicky! Why won't you just look at the timestamps? Why won't you believe me?!" I had screamed, crying in an alleyway.

"You're still so stubborn. Clearly, you haven't learned your lesson," she snapped, and hung up.

Things got worse after that. People recognized me on the street. They would kick over my recycling bags, spilling the cans I had spent all day collecting. They filmed me scrambling to pick them up.

"Hey, look! It's the Montgomery heir! Stealing jobs from the homeless now?"

"That's what you get for messing with Simon, you freak!"

The video showed a group of frat boys kicking me into the pavement. I didn't even fight back. I just curled into a ball.

Finally, a kind stranger intervened, chased them off, and tried to call an ambulance. I refused. The stranger pressed a crumpled hundred-dollar bill into my bleeding hand.

"Take it, kid. Everyone hits rock bottom. Don't give up on yourself," the man had said.

The video ended with me sitting alone in a subway station, bruised, bleeding, and entirely broken. People walked a wide circle around me, repulsed by the smell of blood and grime.

I pulled Mom's gold locket from beneath my filthy shirt, clutching it to my chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Mom," I whispered to the camera, my voice shattered. "I don't even know why I keep recording this. Even if someone sees it, theyll just say I faked it. Nobody is ever going to believe me again."

In the cabin, Jax exhaled a ragged breath. His hands, holding the phone, were visibly shaking.

"I believe you, man," he whispered to the empty room.

Behind him, his crew members were wiping their eyes. "Jesus, thats just... thats evil."

The chat was moving so fast it was a blur of text.

"Simon stole his entire life. His talent, his family, his safety."

"I feel physically sick. The sister starved him out to protect a parasite."

"No way, this is all AI generated! Simon wouldn't do this!"

"Are you brain dead? You literally just watched the guy get beaten in the street because his sister blacklisted him over fake plagiarism. The Montgomerys need to be in jail."

Victoria sat frozen in the VIP room, the memories flashing behind her eyes.

She dialed her executive assistant. The man answered, panting.

"Ms. Montgomery, I just reached the coordinates. Its way out in the Adirondacks. But... there's already a crowd here. Locals, and... I think I saw Simons cousin by the police tape."

Victoria ignored the detail about the cousin. "Get in there. Confiscate the phone. I need my cyber-security team to verify the files."

"I can't, ma'am. The internet is rioting. Theyre demanding the police and independent experts verify it live on the stream."

"Then make sure our people are in the room when they do."

Victoria hung up. She slowly turned her gaze to Simon, who was sweating through his designer shirt.

"Why are you shaking?" she asked softly.

"I'm not," Simon forced a sickly smile, leaning in to try and use his usual charm.

Blair interjected again. "Vic, even if Simon made some mistakes, Cole still pawned your mother's locket. That's unforgivable."

The mention of the locket was like throwing gasoline on a dying fire. Victoria, who had been numb, felt the white-hot rage return. She could forgive the car crashbarely. She could maybe even forgive the corporate sabotage. But her mothers soul? No.

"Did I say I forgave him for that?" Victoria hissed.

The stream had played through almost all the videos. Most of them were just quiet, sad moments of a life falling apart.

Until the second to last video.

I was shoved, unconscious, onto the leather sofa of a seedy karaoke bar.

This was the footage I had never dared to review.

The camera angle was obscured, peeking out from my jacket. Simon walked into the frame. He was impeccably dressed, looking down at my unconscious body with a smirk.

He waved a hand, and four high-end escorts walked into the room.

"Do whatever you want," Simon told the women, tossing a thick stack of hundreds onto the glass table. "Just make it look messy. And if anyone asks, he paid you with the cash he got from pawning a vintage gold locket. Got it?"

"Understood, Mr. Montgomery," one of the women giggled.

They descended on me, pulling at my clothes.

Simon walked out of the room, and the heavy thud of the door locking echoed through the speakers.