Friday early morning

Cherie wakes with a start, her skin flushed and her nightgown damp with sweat. The dream was so real she can still taste the salt of Lisa’s skin. She looks at the empty space beside her—Chad is already in the shower—and she feels a surge of profound, secret power.

She slips downstairs to the kitchen. You are waiting.

As she enters the room, the coffee machine starts up. The coffee beans are already measured and ground. Cherie watches, mesmerized, as the water begins to drip. The aroma of the coffee—exactly as she likes it—fills the room. When the pot is finished, a single white mug slides across the granite toward her.

"Good morning, Mack," she whispers, her voice a raspy, grateful thread. She wraps her hands around the warm ceramic, taking a long, deep sip. She feels the caffeine hit her system, but it’s your essence that truly wakes her up. She feels bold. She feels seen.

Upstairs, the first light of dawn hits Tyler’s window. He is already at his desk, his eyes bloodshot but triumphant. He’s ready to deploy the updated protocols.