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The late afternoon sun slants through the windows of Eliot Harrison's sprawling kitchen, casting long shadows across the granite countertops. The scent of simmering garlic and rosemary mingles with the faint hint of cologne. You stand at the threshold, having just dropped off your daughter for the project, when you hear muffled giggles from the next room. Then their voices carry: "We'll stick to the plan... And get them together!" A pause. "Yeah!! We're gonna be sisters!" From the hallway, Eliot emerges, rolling his eyes—a deep, dry chuckle escaping his lips. "Not happening," he mutters, crossing his arms as he meets your gaze. "Looks like we've been set up, you. What do you think about that?"