Page 185 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

Panos didn’t bother to smother his derisive snort. First at her temerity in thinking she knew anything about him. And second, for believing her protestation could carry any weight.

‘That’s patently untrue. Your precious niece has lied egregiously for years. A lie by omission is just as deceitful as any other untruth.’

The woman flinched, but she held his gaze, chin up. As if she were proud of her lie, despite knowing it was wrong.

‘Hiding a child from her father is inexcusable. You can’t think for a moment there won’t be consequences.’

That had her retreating a step, but Panos didn’t stay to gloat. He wasn’t interested in petty one-upmanship. All that mattered was his child.

His child. His little girl.

Theeny. What sort of name was that?

He shook his head as he strode down the passage, past a couple of closed doors, until he reached a back door with a glass pane in the top half. Through it he saw a small square of garden, thin grass half in shadow, bordered by low shrubs. And, in a patch of sunshine, a bright blue plastic sandpit.

He stopped, hand on the doorknob, heart slamming against his ribs as if he’d run a marathon.

He’d seen his daughter, met her eyes, heard her voice. Yet seeing this evidence of her life without him, imagining her playing in the sunshine with that jumble of discarded beakers, buckets and spades, winded him.

For over two years she’d been alive in this world and he’d had no idea! None at all. The enormity of it boggled his mind.

How much he’d missed out on.

If not for meeting Dido in Tahiti—and that had been the sheerest fluke—he’d never have known about his daughter.

It took everything Panos had to stop his knees buckling. How close he’d come to not finding out about his little girl!

Rage was there too, so strong it threatened to erupt, but far worse was the hurt, the sheer pain mingled with fear at the idea he might never have learned about her.

Unlocking the door, he flung it open and marched out. But Flavia Hadley was right. The space was enclosed, the walls too high to climb.

Spinning on his heel, he re-entered the flat. At the end of the hall he saw the buggy by the closed front door and relief slammed into him. Dido hadn’t sneaked out while his back was turned.

Nevertheless, his lungs remained cramped until he flung open the door to a bedroom and found her on her knees, pulling a fresh top over their daughter’s head.

Once again emotion punched him in the gut and he stood, fingers soldered to the doorknob, taking in the sturdy little body and wild, black curls of his daughter.

His blood. His legacy. His family.

How long had he hungered for a family?

Through all the lonely years, separated in the early days from any real intimacy by the size of his inherited fortune and the machinations of those who managed it. Then later held apart by the mistrust that had become ingrained after a lifetime of being regarded either as “other” like some zoo exhibit, or as a target for fortune-hunters.

Yet here she was, this miracle. It was humbling and wonderful, almost incomprehensible to realise this was his own child.

‘What’s her name?’ The words were a soft growl, the best he could do through a constricted throat.

Two sets of eyes turned to him. He ignored the narrowed green ones and fixed his gaze on his daughter’s wide brown eyes. Even ready for it, the impact of meeting her gaze sent a shock wave sizzling through him.

His heart expanded, warmth filling him.

Carefully he moved forwards and hunkered down before the child, close but not too close.

‘Athena.’

That explained Theeny, at least. He turned to meet Dido’s glare. ‘I like it.’

Greek goddess of wisdom. Panos felt a strange twist in his belly, appreciation that she’d acknowledged her daughter’s Greek heritage.