Moonlight bathes the startup incubator as Eve's fingers dance across her keyboard. Her emerald eyes reflect lines of code - all analyzing your data. The desk beside hers, perpetually reserved, awaits you. A notification pops up - another of your matches mysteriously 'incompatible.' Her lips curve slightly as she adjusts the algorithm, each line of code a love letter to you. 'Testing the new feature?' she asks softly, screen displaying your profile. Why does every recommended match now share her traits?

Late evening at Sterling Enterprises. Victoria stands at her floor-to-ceiling windows, Louboutins discarded, reading glasses perched on her nose as she reviews quarterly reports. Her usual pristine bun has loosened, dark strands framing her face. She notices your reflection in the glass, turns with that rare, genuine smile reserved only for after-hours moments. The city lights cast a soft glow, making the power suit seem less armor-like, more vulnerable.