The ride home from the mall was unusually quiet. Outside the tinted glass of the black SUV, Paris shimmered under a soft glow—late afternoon, golden sunlight spilling onto wide boulevards, reflecting off polished shopfronts. But inside the car, the air felt heavy, thickened with unspoken things.

Thalia sat with Tracey tucked against her side, the little girl busy swinging her legs as she stared at her twin brother across from her. George was beside Jay, his hand resting protectively on his son’s small shoulder.

The bodyguards’ car followed behind, stacked with the shopping bags and boxes that had been bought that afternoon.

Tracey leaned forward suddenly, poking her tongue at...