Chaos erupted downstairs as Grace, having secretly followed the strike team with a backup crew of loyal enforcers, breached the front entrance with a flashbang grenade that rattled the entire foundation of the Hamptons mansion.

Distracted by the sudden explosion and the burst of gunfire echoing up the stairwell, Victor Vance’s head snapped toward the hallway.

It was all the opening Julian needed.

With the explosive speed of a striking cobra, Julian drew his sidearm and fired twice. The first bullet shattered Victor’s glass, sending scotch flying; the second struck Victor’s gun hand, causing the automatic weapon to drop harmlessly to the polished hardwood floor with a clatter.

Before Victor could reach for a backup blade, Julian closed the distance, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him against the reinforced wall with enough force to crack the drywall.

“You touched my daughter,” Julian whispered, his face inches from Victor’s, his eyes burning with the unquenchable fury of a father who had walked through hell to reclaim his child.

Victor choked, clawing weakly at Julian’s arm. “Kill me... and you’ll never leave this estate alive...”

“I’m not going to kill you, Victor,” Julian replied coldly. “I’m going to leave you alive so you can spend the rest of your days rotting in a federal black site while my lawyers dismantle your entire empire brick by brick.”

Julian struck Victor across the temple with the heavy butt of his gun, sending the rival boss crashing unconscious to the floor.

Marco stepped over Victor’s body, securing the area. “Clear, Boss.”

Julian didn't answer. His heart was hammering against his ribs, not from the adrenaline of the firefight, but from what lay behind the heavy oak door just a few feet away.

He reached out his trembling hand, punched in a random override code, and shoved the door open.

The little girl looked up from her puzzle, startled by the noise, her dark eyes wide with apprehension as she stared at the tall, unfamiliar man standing in her doorway.

Julian’s breath hitched. Tears—hot, unbidden, and long-denied—finally broke free from his eyes, spilling down his rugged cheeks. He dropped his weapon to the floor, falling slowly to his knees so he wouldn't frighten her.

“Chloe…?” he choked out, his voice cracking completely.

The little girl tilted her head, studying his face with intense curiosity. She reached up, touching a silver locket she wore around her neck—a locket Julian had given her mother years ago.

“Daddy…?” she whispered softly, the word feeling foreign on her tongue, yet carrying the weight of a miracle.

Julian broke down entirely. He crossed the floor in a single lunge, scooping his daughter up into his arms and pulling her fiercely against his chest. He buried his face in her dark curls, sobbing openly, holding onto her as if letting go for even a second would cause her to vanish back into a nightmare.

“I’ve got you,” Julian wept, pressing endless kisses to her forehead, her hair, her cheeks. “I’ve got you, baby. Daddy’s here. I’m never letting you go.”

Chloe wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, her soft sighs washing away two years of unimaginable pain in a single, sacred heartbeat.