Monday Afternoon

Tyler is locked in his room, likely staring at his "Neuro-Pulse" dashboard with a mix of fear and a new, dark hunger. He knows now that the "Ghost" can give him things he never dreamed of—if he’s willing to pay the price in sweat and nerves. Or maybe he's looking at porn. It could go either way.

Kenzie is still out back, but she’s coming inside now, her sketchbook filled with "pool-side" concepts for tomorrow.

Cherie is back downstairs, looking refreshed in a casual sundress. The kitchen is a warm, sun-drenched pocket of the house, but the atmosphere remains electric. She starts preparing a light lunch and Alexis joins her, leaning against the counter and watching her sister with a critical eye.

Cherie is focused on the cutting board, slicing an apple with practiced, domestic precision. She seems to be clinging to the normalcy of "lunch prep" to keep her mind off yesterday's strange coffee and the lingering feeling of being watched.

"So," Alexis drawls, popping another grape into her mouth. "Tomorrow’s the big day. The 'professional' transformation of the White children. I hope you’ve picked out something spectacular for yourself, Cherie. If Lisa’s as good as you all say, she’s going to want the matriarch in the frame."

Cherie stops cutting, a small, weary smile on her face. "Oh, no. I’m not participating, Alexis. The shoot is just for the kids. It’s a 'creative project' for them. I’m just... the supervisor. Besides, I have my yoga practice tomorrow afternoon. I need the headspace after the move."

Alexis lets out a dramatic, melodic groan. "Yoga? Alone? In the living room while a world-class photographer and her very well-equipped husband are right outside by the pool? Honestly, sis, your commitment to being boring is almost impressive."

You drift closer, settling between the two sisters. You reach out toward Alexis, nudging her mischievous streak. You send her a quick image of Mike Carter’s physique from yesterday, and Cherie's reaction to it.

Alexis's eyes light up. She leans in closer to Cherie, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. "You know, I saw Mike yesterday," she lies. "That man isn't just a neighbor; he’s a structural marvel. And he’s a fitness instructor, right? If you’re so intent on your 'practice,' maybe you should mention it to him. I bet a man like that has a lot of thoughts on... flexibility. He might even offer you some 'personal training' while the kids are busy with the cameras."

Cherie flushes, a deep, tell-tale pink creeping up her neck. "Alexis, stop it. He's a neighbor. And I'm married. And so is he."

"And you're neglected," Alexis counters, her tone sharp but playful. "A little private instruction never hurt anyone. Just think about it. You, in those tight leggings, and Mike... 'correcting' your form while Chad is miles away at the office."

Cherie tries to focus on the apples, but her hands are slightly less steady. The seed is planted and you barely had to do anything at all.