Digital Scarlet

A Mark Unveiled

The first buzz of my phone barely registered over the scrape of a butter knife against toast. I pressed the bread down with one hand, glancing at Ella’s half-empty lunchbox. Another buzz came, then another, vibrating irregularly against the granite countertop like a trapped insect.

My hand stilled.

The phone skittered toward the edge, and I caught it just before it fell. The screen glowed with a notification banner:

36 unread emails.

Frowning, I swiped to open the app.

The first subject line read: “EVERYONE WILL KNOW.”

My stomach clenched as I tapped it. The image filled the screen instantly—me, or at least the me from eight years ago. Younger. Thinner. Dressed in crimson lingerie and draped across a bed. The kind of photo I’d buried so deeply that even I had almost forgotten it existed.

The air seemed to thicken around me. My chest tightened as though someone had reached in and squeezed my lungs.

The next buzz jolted me as another email came in, then another. My pulse raced as I scrolled. Each subject line screamed at me:

“You can’t hide.”

“Your dirty little secret.”

“What would your daughter think?”