The morning sun filtered through the penthouse windows, casting a warm glow over the kitchen where Derek sat at the marble island, sipping his black coffee like it was the only thing keeping him sane. Lydia breezed in, fresh-faced and smiling, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Have a good day, honey. I’ll be at the spa all morning—monthly pamper session, you know, facials, massages, the works. Don’t work too hard.” She ruffled his silver-streaked hair, oblivious to the storm brewing in his mind from last night’s vague texts about Eli being out late.

Derek forced a smile, kissing her back. “Enjoy, love. You deserve it.” As she grabbed her bag and headed out, door clicking shut, he exhaled, scrolling his phone absentmindedly. Ping—a message from the club manager he’d tipped generously over the years to keep tabs on high-profile shit. “Mr. Hale, thought you’d want to see this from last night. Your son’s involved. Discreet as always.” Attached: a video clip.