Recorded Indiscretion

The video opened in a dim hotel room, its angle crooked.

Judging by the camera angle, Dane must have propped his phone on the nightstand before tapping record, as though he wanted a silent witness to whatever storm was about to unfold.

On-screen, the woman clawed at Dane's shirt with drunken resolve, her fingers drifting from the edge of his jawline down into the open collar, skimming over pectora