On the screen, Amber began to move furniture. She pushed her marble table aside to make room for a second chair—a chair that matched the one Elias was currently sitting in. She reached toward the edge of the frame, her hand disappearing into the black border of the media player. Elias felt a cold, slender hand grip his actual shoulder.

When he double-clicked it, the media player didn’t show a progress bar. Instead, it opened a window into a flawlessly curated apartment that seemed to exist in a permanent, golden-hour glow.

Elias froze. He checked his Wi-Fi; it was toggled off. This wasn't a live stream. It was an MP4.

He tried to unplug the laptop. The screen stayed lit, powered by a battery that should have died hours ago.

"You’re late for the stream," she murmured, her voice like silk over gravel.

Amber was there—"Amberwhite83," as the watermark in the corner suggested. She was the ultimate lifestyle architect. In the first few minutes, she was whisking matcha in a kitchen that looked like it had been carved from a single piece of Carrara marble. She didn’t look at the camera; she looked through it, her eyes tracking movement on Elias’s side of the glass.