Dinner

The dining room is bathed in the warm, artificial glow of the chandelier, a stark contrast to the deepening violet twilight outside the windows. The clinking of silverware against china and the rhythmic pour of wine create a deceptive atmosphere of suburban normalcy, though the Aura of the House is so thick that the steam rising from the roasted chicken seems to swirl in slow, hypnotic patterns.

Chloe is practically vibrating with energy, her phone face-down on the table but buzzing incessantly with notifications. "It’s actually insane," she says, leaning toward the center of the table. "We only put up those three shots from Tuesday—the ones in the attic with the high-contrast lighting—and the comments are already blowing up. People are calling it 'Ghost-Chic.' They want to know who the photographer is and if there’s a full set."

Kenzie nods, her expression more clinical. "The aesthetic is what’s hooking them. It doesn't look like a standard modeling portfolio; it looks like a story. But we’re hitting a wall. We only have so much usable footage from Lisa’s session before people start getting bored."

Chad looks up from his plate, a paternal, slightly confused smile on his face. "Ghost-Chic? Is that what we're calling it now? Well, I’m glad you girls are finding a creative outlet. Just make sure it stays professional. No giving out our address to 'fans' on the internet."

"Of course, Dad," Chloe says, rolling her eyes playfully. She turns her gaze toward Tyler, her expression shifting to one of genuine appeal. "Actually, Ty... we were talking about the technical side. The site is a bit clunky, and we want to set up an automated gallery rotation. You’re the genius—could you help us optimize the backend? Maybe help us figure out how to track the engagement better?"

Tyler takes a slow, measured sip of his water. He feels the weight of the Hollow Point files on his server upstairs—the digital shackles he’s about to slip onto his mother. He looks at Chloe, seeing her not just as his sister, but as a primary asset in the "Digital Net."

"I can do that," Tyler says, his voice remarkably steady. "In fact, if you want to keep the momentum going, you shouldn't wait for Lisa to come over once a week. The algorithm rewards consistency. You need fresh content every few days to keep the fan base hungry."

"But we don't have a camera," Kenzie points out, frustrated. "Lisa takes her gear with her."

Chad wipes his mouth with his napkin, his Blindfold protocol making him feel an expansive, generous surge of pride in his son’s "entrepreneurial" spirit. "You know, Tyler... if you’re going to be helping your sisters with this 'project,' you shouldn't be limited by lack of equipment. You’ve been working so hard on that focus software for your mother and me... why don't we head over to the electronics outlet this weekend? I’ll pick up a high-end Canon rig for the house. Consider it a reward for stepping up lately. I like seeing you take charge of things."

Alexis nearly chokes on a piece of salmon. She looks at you in the corner, her eyes dancing with a wicked, almost painful irony. She hides her smirk behind her wine glass. Chad is literally buying the weapon Tyler will use to dismantle his family. He's accelerating, or at least easing the way on an almost daily basis!