“I believe so. Whiskey?” his father offered, already pouring a glass.

“Sure.” Stefan took it and sank into one of the leather chairs across the desk.

For a moment, they drank in silence — the kind that came with years of unspoken words. Then Richard leaned back, watching him.

“I hear you’re still playing detective.”

Stefan smirked faintly. “Still saving people's lives and secrets for a living, yeah you could say that.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Richard replied ...