Close. Too close. Shoulders brushing, breaths held, eyes scanning line after line.
And then. The tone changed. "Wait… this actually looks legit."
"That stretch? You can't fake that."
"I thought this was a scam, but now I'm not so sure…"
"Okay, I just placed my order again."
"Refund guarantee? That's confidence." A pause. Then another voice, barely containing their excitement. "They're deleting the hate comments."
"No," Mike said quickly, shaking his head, eyes still glued to the screen. "Not deleting…" He scrolled again.
Faster. "They're being buried." That landed. Hard. Because that meant something else entirely. It wasn't control. It wasn't damage management. It was momentum.
"They're turning," someone whispered.
"They're actually turning…" Behind them, the steady ping of incoming orders grew louder again, faster now, more urgent, like a heartbeat picking up pace.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Hope surged through the room, electric and contagious.
