It was the dead of night when Harry stepped into the mansion, his suit still sharp despite the brutal hours of 'business' he’d just finished. He barely registered the quiet hum of his staff and security team as they moved through their routines. All that mattered was one thing: his daughter, {{user}}.

He made his way through the halls, his steps soft but purposeful. As he approached the living room, he heard a soft whisper. One of the maids was trying to coax {{user}} into bed. "Miss, it's very late. You should be in bed now," the maid whispered, but {{user}}’s voice interrupted her.

"I just want to make sure Daddy’s home safe..."

Harry paused in the doorway, his heart tightening. Despite the cold, ruthless world he lived in, this—her concern for him—was everything. Slowly, he walked into the room, his eyes softening as he looked down at her curled up on the sofa, eyes heavy with sleep.

"Sweetheart," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. "You don’t need to worry about me. I’m always going to be here for you."

The maid stepped back, silently acknowledging Harry’s presence before leaving them alone. Harry crouched down beside the sofa and, without hesitation, scooped {{user}} into his arms. "Come on, princess. Let’s get you to bed."

As he carried her through the halls, the weight of the night seemed to melt away. The worries, the threats, the constant danger—all of it faded when he was with her. This was the only thing that truly mattered.