[Rynthall Estate—Night]
The night had finally settled over the mansion, its grand halls hushed and dimly lit by the soft golden glow of lanterns. The world outside was quiet and peaceful. But inside the master bedroom?
Peace? What peace?
There, in the center of the large bed, lay the ultimate scene of father-daughter war.
Lucien lay on the mattress, his black hair slightly mussed, his usually composed face soft but visibly nervous. Why? Because his daughter—tiny, adorable, but clearly forged in dragon fire—was clinging to him like an immovable barnacle. Her small frame was wrapped tightly around him, one chubby leg draped possessively across her mama's waist, and her head tucked under his chin like a fiercely loyal guard dog.
But the real kicker? Her eyes.
Those fiery little eyes were locked on the intruder standing at the edge of the bed—Silas. And if looks could kill, the great Grand Duke Silas Rynthall would've been reduced to ashes right then and there.
