Victoria led him into the master bedroom.

It was enormous.

A king-sized bed dominated the room, covered in a duvet that probably cost more than Duke's college tuition.

But the room felt like a stage set, not a sanctuary.

Duke walked to the center of the room.

He looked up at the smoke detector on the ceiling, directly above the foot of the bed.

The little red light on it wasn't blinking at the normal interval.

It was pulsing rapidly.

Device Identified: Micro-Camera with Audio. Encrypted Transmission.

"Is that it?" Victoria asked, standing by the door. She looked nervous, hugging herself.

"Yeah," Duke said. "Do you have a step ladder?"

She fetched one from the closet.

Duke climbed up.

He twisted the cover of the detector.

It came off easily.

Too easily.

Inside, nestled among the wires, was a small black cube with a lens.

It was wired directly into the house's power supply.

Duke froze. If he disconnected it, Simon would know. The feed would cut, and Simon would get an alert in London.

The System seemed to anticipate this.

_Alert: Tampering will trigger remote notification._

_Countermeasure Available: Digital Loop (Cost: 100 System Points)._

Duke mentally accepted the cost. A shimmer of code ran through his fingers.

_looping_sequence_initiated..._

The red light on the camera blinked once, slowly, then returned to its rapid pulse. The camera was still there, but it was now broadcasting an empty room on loop to Simon's phone.

Duke climbed down.

"Victoria," he said. His voice was grave.

He held out his hand to guide her closer, pointing up.

"Look inside the casing."

Victoria stepped forward.

She looked up at the black cube.

She frowned. "What is that? A sensor?"

"It's a camera," Duke said.

The blood drained from her face so fast Duke thought she might faint.

"A... a camera?"

"A high-definition, wide-angle camera," Duke clarified. "With a microphone."

He pointed to the ceiling.

"Pointed directly at your bed."

Victoria stared at the device.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Her eyes darted to the bed, then back to the camera.

"But... Simon said he updated the fire safety system last month. He had guys come in..."

"He didn't update the fire safety," Duke said. "He updated his surveillance."

Victoria grabbed the bedpost for support.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why would he..."

Tears welled up in her eyes instantly.

"He watches me?" she choked out. "When I sleep? When I change?"

"It looks like it," Duke said.

He stepped closer.

"Victoria, does he... does he trust you?"

She let out a sob.

"He's possessive," she said, tears spilling over. "He's always asking where I am. Who I'm with. He checks my phone."

She looked at Duke, her eyes filled with horror.

"He's watching us right now?"

"No," Duke lied, though technically true thanks to the loop. "I disabled the feed without cutting the power. He won't know."

Victoria started to shake.

It was a violent, full-body tremor.

"I can't... I can't be here," she gasped. "I feel sick."

She stumbled.

Duke caught her.

His hands gripped her arms, steadying her.

She collapsed against his chest.

She buried her face in his hoodie.

She wept.

It was a raw, ugly sound. The sound of a woman realizing her marriage was a prison.

Duke held her.

He felt the heat of her body, the shaking of her shoulders.

He stroked her hair awkwardly.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're safe."

Over her shoulder, he looked at the camera.

He felt a surge of triumph.

This was the smoking gun.

But he also felt a twinge of guilt.

She was broken. And he was using the pieces to build his ladder.

He pushed the guilt away.

Simon did this. Not him.

"Victoria," Duke said softly, pulling back slightly so he could look at her.

Her mascara was running. Her face was blotchy.

She looked beautiful in her devastation.

"We need to check the rest of the house," he said.

Fear flashed in her eyes.

"There's more?"

"We have to be sure," Duke said.

For the next hour, they moved through the apartment.

Duke "found" the audio bug in the living room.

He "found" the camera in the guest bathroom.

He applied the loop to every single one.

With each discovery, Victoria grew quieter. Colder.

The shock was turning into numbness.

And then, into anger.

They ended up back in the kitchen.

Victoria stared at the counter, her knuckles white as she gripped the marble edge.

"What do I do?" she asked. Her voice was hollow.

"If you confront him now," Duke said, "He'll lie. He'll say it was for security. For your protection against intruders."

Victoria laughed bitterly. "Intruders? In the bathroom?"

"He's a manipulator, Victoria. You know that."

She looked at Duke.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Really?"

Duke held her gaze.

"Just a guy who hates bullies," he said.

He didn't touch the devices. He couldn't.

"Leave them," Duke said.

"What?" Victoria recoiled. "I can't live with them watching me!"

"They aren't watching you anymore. I blinded them. But if you tear them out, he'll know. He'll get violent."

He gestured to her eye.

"Like he did before."

Victoria touched her face, flinching.

"You need to pretend," Duke said, his voice hard. "You need to be the perfect wife. Let him think he has control. But now you know where the blind spots are. You live in the shadows until you're ready to strike."

He took a pen from the counter and wrote his number on a napkin.

"If you need anything. Anything at all. You call me."

Victoria took the napkin.

She looked at him with a mixture of awe and dependency.

"Thank you, Duke," she whispered.

Duke walked to the door.

"Lock the deadbolt," he said.

He left the apartment.

As the elevator doors closed, the App vibrated.

Mission Complete: The Trojan Horse.

_Reward: Access to 'Shadow Account' Interface (Physical Card Delivery)._

Duke leaned his head against the cool metal of the elevator wall.

He felt drained.

But he also felt powerful.

He had just turned Simon's wife into a double agent.

Duke got back to Queens just as the sun was setting.

The sky was a bruised purple.

He checked the rusted mailbox in the lobby.

There was a package inside.

A sleek, black box. Heavy.

No return address.

Duke stared at it. He hadn't updated his address in the App. He hadn't told anyone he was staying with Gus.

A shiver ran down his spine. The System knew where he was. It knew exactly where he slept.

He looked up at the corner of the lobby ceiling. Was there a camera there? Was the System watching him just like Simon watched Victoria?

He swallowed the fear. He was already in too deep.

Duke took it upstairs.

Gus wasn't home.

Duke sat on the couch and opened the box.

Inside, nestled in black velvet, was a card.

It wasn't plastic.

It was metal. Brushed titanium, completely blank except for a chip and a magnetic strip.

No bank logo. No numbers.

Just his name laser-etched on the back in tiny font.

Duke Zeller.

It wasn't a Centurion card. It wasn't a Palladium card. It was something else entirely. A key to the offshore account the App had created.

The App pinged.

New Task: High Roller.

Objective: Spend $50,000 in 24 hours.

_Reward: 100% Reimbursement (One-time use)._

Duke stared at the screen.

Spend fifty grand. And get it all back.

A week ago, spending fifty dollars was a crisis.

Now, it was a chore.

He stood up.

He looked at his reflection in the hallway mirror.

He still looked like a loser.

The hoodie. The jeans. The scruffy beard. The haircut that Gus had given him three months ago with kitchen scissors.

He didn't look like the owner of this titanium card.

He looked like he stole it.

"Time for an upgrade," Duke said.

He opened the Uber app.

His thumb hovered over UberX.

Habit.

He moved it down.

Uber Black.

He requested a ride.

Driver: Mohammed. Vehicle: Cadillac Escalade.

Five minutes later, the massive black SUV pulled up to the curb in front of the rundown apartment building.

It looked like a spaceship that had landed in a junkyard.

Gus was walking up the sidewalk, carrying a six-pack of cheap beer.

He stopped, staring at the car.

Duke walked out of the building.

"Duke?" Gus asked, pointing at the SUV. "Is that... for you?"

"Yeah," Duke said.

"Where are you going? A funeral? Or a mafia meeting?"

Duke laughed. "Just going shopping, G."

The driver, a man in a suit, got out and opened the rear door for Duke.

Gus's jaw dropped.

"Dude, seriously, did you rob a bank with that crypto money?"

"I'll explain later," Duke said. "Don't wait up."

He slid into the back seat.

The leather smelled rich.

The door closed with a solid thud, shutting out the noise of the street.

"Where to, sir?" Mohammed asked.

"SoHo," Duke said. "Drop me at L'Artiste."

The car glided away.

Duke watched Gus shrinking in the rearview mirror, standing there with his mouth open.

A pang of sadness hit him.

He was leaving that life behind.

The ride into Manhattan was smooth.

Duke watched the city change through the tinted window.

From the graffiti and trash of Queens to the glittering glass towers of Midtown, and finally to the cobblestone chic of SoHo.

The car pulled up in front of L'Artiste.

It was a salon that looked more like an art gallery.

No prices in the window. Just a minimalist logo.

A bouncer stood at the door.

He was big, wearing a tight black t-shirt.

Duke got out of the car.

The bouncer looked him up and down.

He saw the hoodie. The sneakers.

He crossed his arms.

"Deliveries are in the back, pal," the bouncer grunted.

Duke didn't stop walking.

He walked right up to the man.

"I'm not a delivery," Duke said.

"We're private. Members only," the bouncer said, stepping in his way.

Duke reached into his pocket.

He pulled out the titanium card.

He held it up.

The streetlight caught the metal edge.

The bouncer frowned. He didn't recognize the card. But he recognized the weight of it. Cheap cards didn't reflect light like that.

Duke held his gaze. "Run it. If it declines, I'll walk."

The bouncer hesitated. Training told him to kick this bum out. Instinct told him this bum was dangerous.

"Right this way," he mumbled, stepping aside.

Duke tucked the card back into his pocket.

He walked through the door.

He didn't look back.

The salon smelled of eucalyptus and money.

The receptionist was a woman who looked like a model.

She was typing on a Mac.

She looked up as Duke approached.

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second when she saw his clothes, but then she saw the way he walked.

Shoulders back. Head up.

"I need Andy," Duke said.

He didn't ask. He stated.

"Andy is our lead stylist," she said politely. "He's usually booked weeks in adv-"

Duke placed the titanium card on the marble counter.

Clink.

The sound was heavy. Definitive.

The receptionist looked at the card. It was alien to her, but clearly exclusive.

She swallowed.

"Let me check his schedule," she said quickly.

Two minutes later, a man walked out from the back.

He was Asian, dressed in clothes that were so fashionable they looked uncomfortable.

He had platinum blonde hair and glasses with no rims.

He looked at Duke.

He tilted his head.

"You're a disaster," Andy said.

Duke smiled. "That's why I'm here."

Andy walked around him.

"Good bone structure," he muttered. "Jawline is there, hiding under that roadkill beard. Eyes are intense. We can work with this."

He pointed to a chair.

"Sit. Don't talk. Let me work."

Duke sat.

Andy spun the chair around.

He draped a black cape over Duke.

"We're going to burn the old you," Andy said, picking up a pair of scissors. "And build something dangerous."

The scissors snipped.

Huge chunks of hair fell to the floor.

Duke watched in the mirror.

His face began to emerge.

The messy fringe was gone.

The sides were faded tight.

Andy applied hot foam to his face.

He used a straight razor.

The blade felt cold against Duke's skin.

He scraped away the scruff, leaving a sharp, deliberate stubble.

Duke's phone vibrated in his lap under the cape.

Transaction: Uber Black - $125.00

Status: Pending Reimbursement.

Duke stared at the notification.

He had spent money.

And he would get it back.

It felt like cheating. Like using a cheat code in a video game that broke the economy.

He felt a rush of dopamine so strong it made his toes curl.

"Manicure," Duke said. "And a facial."

Andy snapped his fingers.

Two assistants appeared.

For the next two hours, Duke was scrubbed, massaged, and polished.

When Andy finally spun the chair back to the mirror, Duke didn't recognize the man staring back.

The man in the mirror was sharp.

His hair was slicked back, textured, modern.

His skin glowed.

His eyes looked brighter, framed by groomed brows.

He looked like a CEO. Or a movie star.

"Damn," Andy said, wiping his hands on a towel. "If I wasn't married, I'd ask for your number."

Duke touched his face.

It was smooth.

He stood up.

He looked taller.

He felt lighter.

He walked to the counter.

"Total?"

"$1,200," the receptionist said.

Duke handed her the card.

Transaction: L'Artiste - $1,200.00

Status: Pending Reimbursement.

He walked out of the salon.

The cool night air hit his fresh skin.

He took a deep breath.

He felt electric.