“I know.” Nicole pulled her phone from her apron pocket. They weren’t supposed to use their phones on shift, but their store had an unofficial rule. As long as customers didn’t see it, no one else did. “I designed it that way.”

“Humble, as always.” He laughed, finishing the latte. At the window, he handed it off and then made his way back to her. “You made it to Twitter.”

Nicole’s mood perked up immediately. She had a lot of loyal voyeurs on the other side of the planet who gave her delightful early-morning surprises—like helping her go viral within hours of posting a new video.

Conquering Golden Rule had taken time. Before posting her first video, Nicole had spent about a month researching the platform. She read the terms and conditions twice, inadvertently memorized the script for the welcome video, decoded how the replies played into the system, took notes on the more popular users and their stats, and most important, watched every video the app suggested.

Golden Rule’s algorithm never stood a chance.

Her phone chimed again. Another message from Jewel:

It’s cute how you think you have a choice.

Nicole blinked at the screen, laughing in disbelief. Rumors about how unhinged Jewel was still floated around the app, even though she’d mysteriously disappeared from it, and the public eye, a year ago. Her legacy had already been cemented—Jewel Van Hanen would always be known for founding and creating Golden Rule, one of the most popular video-sharing apps in history.

Charlie hovered over her shoulder. “That is wild. I can’t believe she’s really back. I’m not surprised you got an invite to Golden Weekend X, though.”

“I’m not going. I graciously declined.”

He flicked her forearm. “No,” he said, with the full conviction of being right. “You didn’t.”

“Yes, I did, because something is seriously wrong with her.”

“You know what they say,” Charlie teased. “She sold her soul to the devil for fame, joined the Illuminati, is the Antichrist who decided to focus on social media instead of politics.”

“Hmm, you said it, not ‘they.’”

“No, but seriously, you need to go. You have to.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not? This is an opportunity of a lifetime. It could be your big break. Isn’t that the point of all this?”

Nicole turned her phone off, placing it back in her pocket. “One: I can’t miss work. Two: I don’t trust her. Three—”

“One,” Charlie interrupted. “You can miss work if you get coverage, which I will find for you. Two: Of course you can’t trust her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use her connections.”