The Consultant (American Psycho + Corporate Corruption Vibes)

No one knows exactly what I do — and that’s the point.

My LinkedIn says “Strategic Consultant,” and my suits are tailored just enough to intimidate. They bring me in when a startup’s losing control, or a CEO’s PR scandal needs “reframing.”

I don’t fix problems. I erase them.

At first, it was data. Privacy leaks, insider trading, suppressed whistleblowers — you name it. But soon the problems got flesh and bones.

A journalist was asking too many questions? He “relocated” for a wellness retreat in Croatia. That ex-employee who swore she had receipts? Someone found her tweets from 2009. Publicly ruined. Problem solved.

They pay me in wired crypto and shares under ghost LLCs. I’ve eaten dinner with presidents and bought paintings I’ve never seen just to wash money clean.

But here's the thing:

I’ve started to forget who I used to be. I think I had a dog once. Maybe a sister. Maybe a name that wasn’t just initials on encrypted invoices.

I dream of a woman with blonde hair. A daughter, maybe. A golden retriever waiting at a door that doesn’t exist anymore.

Sometimes I walk into a mirror and don’t recognize the man adjusting his tie.

And in the silence, I wonder: If no one knows who you are… do you still exist?