"This doesn’t look like a normal TikTuk profile."
"Because he’s at Emperor status, sis." Von sounded almost offended she needed the explanation. "You don’t reach Emperor status without spending an absurd amount of money on the platform. He has to be Streak. You can see the level indicator right there."
He tapped the screen confidently. "He’s just a wealthy man helping another wealthy man with an investnt opportunity. That’s how serious money works."
"Von." Vivian’s tone beca noticeably more careful. The tone one might use when speaking to soone edging toward the wrong side of a safety barrier.
"Emperor status isn’t unique to Streak. While he’s No. 1, there are multiple Emperor-level gifters on TikTuk. You can verify that with a basic search."
She glanced back at the screen.
"And this profile doesn’t even look authentic. The layout is wrong. The rendering is strange. It looks AI-generated."
"Don’t say that, sis." Von imdiately swiped to another image. "This is him."
A man in a designer suit stood beside a gleaming Audi, a diamond-studded watch flashing prominently beneath his cuff. Every elent of the image looked carefully optimized for wealth, success, and aspirational envy.
The pose itself felt manufactured, as though soone had supplied instructions: Stand here. Turn slightly. Chin up. Look expensive.
"He told his real na." Von pointed proudly at the picture. "Jones Wright. That’s who he is in real life. Streak is just his online na."
Vivian stared at the photograph for several seconds. Then she lowered the phone.
"Von."
Her voice had dropped another level, not just irritation anymore but concern, genuine concern.
Sighing, she pointed at the image. "This is AI-generated."
"No..."
"Look at the watch face. Look at the fingers." She enlarged the picture. "The lighting on the suit collar doesn’t match the lighting on his face. The reflections on the car are inconsistent."
She looked directly at her brother. "This is obviously AI."
Von opened his mouth to protest, but a knock sounded at the door before he could respond.
"Co in," Vivian called.
The door opened, and a sexy-looking young lady in formal clothes stepped in.
It was Xenia. She had stepped inside carrying a manila folder.
Sowhere down the hallway, her stylist was apparently still making last-minute adjustnts to a loose strand of hair, but the work was already complete enough to be visible.
She looked exactly like what she now officially was: a Star Entertainnt talent.
The finalized contract rested inside the folder under her arm.
The mont she saw Stan, her face brightened.
"Sir Stan."
She inclined her head respectfully. There was warmth in the gesture, a hint of gratitude.
And a faintly conspiratorial understanding that both of them knew exactly whose intervention had accelerated a process that might otherwise have taken months.
"Xenia."
Stan straightened from the wall and walked over. "How are you doing?"
"I’m doing very well." Her smile widened as she handed the folder to Vivian.
"Madam Chen finalized the last clauses. I signed everything about ten minutes ago and ca straight here with the executed copy."
Vivian accepted the folder and began reviewing the paperwork.
"Then congratulations are in order," Stan said.
"Officially." He gestured lightly toward the contract. "You’re now a Star Entertainnt talent."
For a mont, Xenia’s smile beca sothing softer, sothing almost disbelieving.
The expression of soone who had spent so long hoping for an opportunity that receiving it still felt slightly unreal.
"Thank you, Sir Stan."
The sincerity in her voice was unmistakable.
"Truly."
She shook her head faintly.
"None of this would have happened without you, and I want to be clear about that."
"Vivian put the contract together," Stan replied. "I rely authorized the speed."
A small laugh escaped her.
"You sat at the table."
Her eyes held his for a mont. The aning behind the words was unmistakable.
"That was the part that mattered."
Stan smiled. "My pleasure."
Across the room, Von watched the exchange with growing confusion.
Because whatever fantasy he had constructed about becoming the future owner of Star Entertainnt, the people in this room were treating Stan with the easy deference reserved for soone who already owned far more influence than Von could imagine.
---
Across the room, Von had been watching the exchange with an expression that was slowly, visibly recalibrating.
Stan was not, it seed, being treated the way an ordinary superior was treated.
The deference in Xenia’s posture. The unmistakable sincerity of her gratitude. The subtle way Vivian had straightened whenever Stan spoke.
Piece by piece, Von was beginning to realize that the man leaning against the wall occupied a position his initial assessnt had failed to account for.
His expression shifted from dismissive to thoughtful. Then, abruptly, it brightened.
The look was unmistakable, the sudden excitent of a man convinced he had just discovered a clever solution to a problem.
He stood.
"Wait. Miss Xenia, right?"
Xenia turned toward him.
The warmth she had shown Stan disappeared, replaced by the polite neutrality reserved for strangers.
"Yes?"
"You’re the TikTuk celebrity. Sir Streak visited your stream once, didn’t he? Sent you those gifts that made you go viral?"
A faint crease appeared between her brows.
"Yes," she said slowly. "He did. Why?"
Von’s smile widened.
He raised his phone, the image of Jones Wright still displayed on the screen, and turned it toward her with the confidence of a man certain he was about to settle the matter once and for all.
"Can you help verify sothing? Is this Sir Streak?"
For the first ti since he’d arrived, Vivian covered her face with both hands.
Xenia accepted the phone. She studied the image.
One second.
Two.
Her expression remained professional, but a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth revealed exactly what she thought of it. That was obviously AI.
She handed the phone back.
"No."
The answer was imdiate, flat, and certain.
"That’s not him."
Von blinked. The confidence vanished from his face so quickly it was almost visible.
"...Are you sure?"
"I’ve t Sir Streak in person." Xenia’s tone remained courteous, though there was now a trace of concern beneath it.
"I know what he looks like."
She glanced briefly at the image before returning the phone.
"And I should probably warn you about sothing."
Von’s fingers tightened around the device.
"Sir Streak’s identity attracts impersonators. A lot of them."
Her gaze shifted briefly toward Stan before returning to Von.
"So operate online. So show up in person. I personally encountered one at a public event not long ago."
She paused then said in a calm but concerned voice. "Whoever sent you this picture is almost certainly a scamr."
The office fell silent.
"You should be very careful."
Von stared at the phone in his hand.
The image now looked different. The expensive suit, the diamond watch, the luxury car, the impossibly symtrical smile. It had looked like a friendly tycoon before; now, to Von, that smile looked like the smile of a deadly villain in movies.
Across the room, Vivian had not yet removed her hands from her face.
Stan suspected she was debating whether relief or exasperation should take priority.
anwhile, Von stood motionless, staring at the screen as the implications slowly caught up with him. Not all at once, but piece by piece, the way unpleasant truths usually arrived.
Across the room, Stan watched the process with quiet, detached interest. He had recognized the scam almost imdiately.
Then he had watched Vivian recognize it, then Xenia.
Now, at long last, Von was beginning to recognize it too.
The performance was ending.
And, so far, it was concluding exactly the way it always should have.
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