The sound of footsteps on the exterior stairs drew every eye toward the approaching figure, Daniel walking up with an unhurried calm that felt deeply, unsettlingly wrong given the desperate scene unfolding just above the pool. The Los Angeles skyline stretched out behind him in the distance, golden and indifferent, as he climbed toward the terrace with hands casually tucked into his pockets. "Daniel!" Eleanor called out, releasing her grip on Rosa's shoulders just long enough to gesture urgently toward the scene above. "Never! She is carrying your quintuplets!" Rosa shouted desperately toward him, her voice cracking with the strain of holding both Grace's weight and her own exhaustion, hoping against hope that the arrival of Grace's husband might finally bring the rescue this situation so desperately needed. But Daniel's expression, as he finally reached the top of the stairs and took in the scene before him, carried none of the urgency Rosa had expected. He looked at his pregnant wife dangling above the pool with an unnerving, detached calm, his gaze cold and utterly unreadable. Grace, catching sight of her husband for the first time since the cable had given way, felt a fresh surge of desperate hope flood through her exhausted body. "Daniel," she gasped, her voice raw with pain and relief, "help me, please." But Daniel simply stood at the edge of the terrace, studying the scene with an expression that made Rosa's blood run instantly, inexplicably cold, some deep instinct warning her that his presence had not arrived to help at all.