He saw me first.
Then Daphne in my arms.
His expression shifted — confusion quickly replaced by alarm.
He stepped forward immediately.
“What happened?”
His voice had deepened since I last heard it.
I didn’t waste time.
“Vasquez. Harris. They attacked the California estate.”
His jaw clenched.
“Mother?”
The question hung heavy.
Yannis’ hands curled into fists at his sides.
“Did they succeed?”
The silence that followed answered him.
His eyes flicked to Daphne.
Then back to me.
Understanding hit him.
His face hardened.
“They touched her.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a declaration.
“Yes.”
Yannis inhaled slowly.
When he spoke again, his voice had shifted — colder.
“Then they signed their death warrant.”
I looked at him.
Not as a father. But as a king evaluating his heir.
He stepped forward and took Daphne from my arms.
She went willingly.
The moment Yannis lifted her, she clung to him immediately — small hands gripping his shirt, her face pressing against his shoulder as if instinctively recognizing safety in family.
My gaze tracked the movement carefully.
