The General's Daughter: The Mission

At Obsidian Peak, the city shimmered beneath the glass walls, traffic sliding through avenues in slow currents, rooftops flashing white under the early-afternoon glare. From the penthouse, it looked almost peaceful. Like a frozen postcard.

Ares didn’t see any of it.

His attention was locked on his phone.

The message sat at the top of the screen.

Nanny:Sir, Larissa brought Shay to Luxxe. Fifth Floor. There’s a sale. A woman nearly knocked her over.

Attached was an image.

He opened it.

Shay caught mid-stumble, a stranger’s shoulder clipping her small frame. The angle made it look worse than it probably was—like she’d been shoved aside.

Ares frowned as his thumb hovered over the phone.

The photo was too clean, too perfectly timed.

Sarah always had a knack for catching moments that told the story she wanted, not necessarily the truth.

He didn’t comment. Didn’t text back. He just reached for the drawer. The remote clicked in his hand.

The LED wall across his desk flared to life, bathing the room in cold light.

Four feeds flickered to life — the bodyguards’ chest cams splitting into different angles.

It was the real story.

Ares watched intently.

And then—his brow loosened.

Shay was not shoved. She was not frightened and wasn’t even close to tears.

She was grinning.

Running from rack to rack, like the whole floor belonged to her. She grabbed shirts — oversized, boyish things with loud prints — holding each one to herself like treasure.

She spun toward Lara and struck ridiculous poses—chin tucked, shoulders hunched, fake tough-guy expressions.

”Do I look cool?” she asked sweetly.

Lara laughed. It was gentle and patient.

”Those are for Sandro. You’d look prettier in dresses and skirts.”

Shay groaned dramatically and tried on another anyway.

Ares leaned back slowly.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Shay that happy. Not polite-happy nor obedient-happy, but messy, stubborn, childishly alive.

For a second, the room felt strangely quiet. Lara’s soft laughter stirred something in him. He felt as if his heart was tickled by a feather.

He picked up his phone and replied to the nanny.

I’ll handle it. Three simple words that sounded final.

A knock sounded at the door—soft, careful. The kind people used when they didn’t want to disturb a man who owned the building.

Jack slipped inside. ”Boss?”

Ares didn’t turn.

The video was paused mid-frame—Shay caught in a laugh, head thrown back, mouth open, wild and unguarded. Beside her, Lara leaned in, smiling like she’d forgotten the world existed.

Ares watched them like the screen might start breathing if he stared hard enough.

”When’s Clara back?” he asked.

”Monday,” Jack said.

Ares gave a small nod, eyes still fixed on Lara’s face. Like he was memorizing it.

”The temporary nanny,” he said. ”Her cousin, right?”

”Yeah. Sarah. Used to be one of the cleaners. Filled in when Clara left. She’s been around for more than six months. Almost a year.”

”I see.”

The room went quiet, except for the sound of the video playing on the LED.

Jack shifted his weight. He hated these silences. They felt like standing too close to the edge of something tall.

Ares spoke again, voice flat. ”Clara’s father. When’s the funeral?”

”He was buried yesterday, Boss.”

Jack frowned before he could stop himself.

Since when did Ares care about staff family drama?

”Tell her to come back early.” A beat passed. Then, he added coldly: ”No. Send someone to get her. Bring her back.”

Jack blinked. ”Bring her back, Sir?”

This time, Ares looked up.

Just a glance. That was all it took.

Jack felt it in his spine and took an unconscious step back.

”Quietly,” Ares said. One word, heavy and final.

Not a request.

”Yes, Boss.”

Understanding settled in, slow and uneasy.

When Jack turned to leave, questions crowded his head—but experience kept his mouth shut.

After years of working for Ares, he knew one thing. When the boss started paying attention to small details, it meant something bigger was already decided.

Somebody had badly messed up.

They just didn’t know it yet.

Maybe it was the new girl, Larissa, or maybe Sarah.

Behind him, the screen still glowed—Shay frozen mid-laugh, Lara brushing something off her shoulder, alive in a moment of unguardedness.

Ares watched it a moment longer before turning it off.

...

By the time they pulled up to the gates, Lara already felt it.

Something was off.

The iron gates slid open with their usual slow groan, metal scraping metal, but the sound seemed louder this afternoon. Too loud. Like the house was clearing its throat.

Inside, the foyer felt too quiet.

Even the maids stopped talking when she passed.

She handed Shay over to Sarah.

”Take her upstairs. Bathe her first. Then put her to bed.”

The way Lara said it sounded like someone used to giving those orders.

”Yes, Larissa,” Sarah said, smiling that thin, polite smile that never reached her eyes. It was too sweet and too careful and full of hidden resentment.

It sounded like she was mocking her without moving her mouth.

”But Mommy, I don’t wanna sleep,” Shay whined, arms reaching back for her.

Lara forced a smile and smoothed the young girl’s hair. ”You have to. You wanna grow taller like Mommy, right?”

Shay sniffed. ”Taller than Mommy.”

That made Lara laugh, soft and real. ”Then you definitely need sleep.”

”I’ll help you wrap Sandro’s clothes later, promise.”

”Okay, Mommy.”

Shay kissed her cheek—sticky and warm—and ran off down the hall, shoes squeaking against the marble.

Lara observed the maids, and her gaze landed on Sarah, who was following behind Shay.

Did she spread some rumors?

Only then did she notice Mrs. Pattos standing near the stairs. She was too rigid, hands folded tight at her waist. Like a soldier waiting for inspection.

”Miss Larissa,” she said carefully, eyes lowered. ”Sir is asking for you. In the study.”

Lara blinked. ”Ares is back already? Isn’t it still early?”

”He’s been waiting.”

Lara didn’t need to ask how long.

Behind her, Sarah’s heels clicked softly against the floor.

Unhurried and satisfied.

Mrs. Pattos’ gaze followed Lara, something unreadable in her eyes.

Then, hesitantly, as if testing something dangerous, she added, ”He’s... not in a good mood, Miss.”