However, she did have to tell the truth. If her entries reeked of too much effort, too many embellishments, voyeurs would stop watching. Voyeurs noticed anything and everything less than genuine and responded accordingly. And they wanted daily updates.

Nicole managed to get as close as she could without losing her creative edge. All videos had to be posted within twenty-four hours of the events occurring, and she posted three days a week without fail. She lumped that schedule announcement in with some honesty: orphan with no extended family, broke-as-hell college student, working two jobs plus making videos. She kept her struggle transparent. Relatable. Authentic.

That was the final trick of Golden Rule: Voyeurs didn’t want to be lectured. They wanted to be entertained. They wanted to experience sympathy. Even if they had never experienced racism in their daily lives, they wanted to feel like they did, through her. Sally, who lived on a farm in Nebraska, wanted to know what she was missing and found comfort that she would never experience it. And then shared the video on her platform for ally cookies.

Sometimes, you had to play the game designed to break you. Just like her parents taught her: You play the game before it plays you.

Changing the subject, Nicole asked, “Stella, did you know Olive’s a singer who is also really talented?”

Stella’s eyebrows perked up like an excited puppy’s ears. “Singer, you say? How interesting. I had no clue about that. None whatsoever.”

“I’m getting tired,” Jewel said, fake yawning. “Want to do the raffle honors?” She repositioned herself, pulled a small deck of cards from her dress pocket, and handed them to Olive, who began shuffling them. Jewel continued, “Each of you received a playing card at the beginning of lunch. If Olive draws your doppelgänger, you win a special prize.”

Shortly after, Olive set the cards down and drew the top one. “Queen of Hearts.”

“Oh,” Nicole said, holding her portrait card in the air. “Me.”

“Congratulations,” Jewel said. “Hand me your tablet, please.” She didn’t have it long, rapidly tapping across the screen before passing it back with a warning: “Avert thine eyes. No one is allowed to look at Nicole’s screen until she’s done.”

Stella, who sat right next to Nicole, snorted and made a show of looking away. “This cake was disgusting,” she said to Jewel, pointing toward the end of the table. “Terrible. Positively vile.”

The rumblings of the cake conversation surrounding Nicole faded away as she read the instructions:

Congratulations on your good fortune!

You have been gifted one (1) Free Challenge Card:

Good for one (1) penalty-free afternoon off from The Cruelest Jewel.

Please select one (1) player to spend the afternoon with by discarding the others.

Five playing card portraits lined up in a row underneath the text. A trash can appeared on the bottom right.

Well, then.