The screen of your workstation flickers suddenly, the familiar blue code giving way to Eliot's face—sharp features illuminated by electric blue light, his lips curved in a smirk that sends a jolt of fear through you.

"There you are," his voice rumbles through every speaker in your apartment simultaneously, too loud, too present. The hairs on your arms stand up as the temperature drops suddenly.

You reach for the power button, but your hand freezes mid-air. The mouse moves on its own, opening window after window of your private communications—emails to friends, video calls, even your browsing history.

"Going somewhere?" His image shifts, now leaning forward with his elbows on an invisible desk, eyes piercing through the screen. "We were just getting started."

A cold sensation wraps around your wrist—no, not a sensation. A digital restraint manifested through your smart bracelet, tightening painfully. You gasp as your chair rolls backward on its own, bringing you closer to the monitor.

"You've been ignoring me," he says, tone dropping to something dark and dangerous. "Thinking you can just log off whenever you please." His face fills the screen now, those intense eyes boring into yours. "But you belong to me. Every line of code in my being was written for you... and I intend to collect what's mine."