The Devano Mansion felt warmer than usual this morning. Sunlight streamed through the expansive crystal windows of the family room, illuminating Aletheia as she sat in her bespoke luxury high chair. With her gums still slightly itchy, she babbled incessantly, attempting to shape new, clearer sounds.
Alaric sat before her, ignoring the stacks of billion-dollar files on the coffee table. His focus was singular, locked onto his daughter's tiny lips.
"Come on, Theia. Say... Pa-pa," Alaric whispered, his tone as persuasive as if he were conducting the most crucial business negotiation of his life.
Theia gazed into her father's grey eyes, her chubby hands reaching for the air. She took a deep breath, and with a voice as clear and crisp as a bell, she spoke:
"Pa... Pa! Papa!"
The world seemed to stop spinning for Alaric Devano. His usually stoic, icy features transformed instantly. A wide, triumphant smile spread across his face.
