The General's Daughter: The Mission

After dinner, Lara walked Sandro back to his room first. The boy was already half-asleep, his head nodding forward as she guided him down the quiet hallway.

The Laguna mansion was enormous—one of Ares’ many indulgences. Sixteen guest rooms lined the long corridors, all leading toward the grand master suite at the end of the west wing.

Scarlet had wasted no time claiming territory.

She had specifically requested the room beside the master bedroom.

Unfortunately for her, Shay already occupied that room. Across from Shay’s was Asher’s, leaving Scarlet no choice but to settle two doors down. Lara suspected that detail alone had ruined Scarlet’s evening.

Inside Shay’s room, soft lamplight bathed the space in warm gold. The little girl was already tucked under the blankets, her small body curled comfortably against the pillows.

Lara sat on the edge of the bed and gently smoothed Shay’s hair.

”Sweetie,” she asked softly, ”who is Asher to you?”

Shay blinked sleepily, her eyelids heavy.

”He is my biological daddy,” she murmured without hesitation.

The answer came so naturally that Lara paused.

So, she knew all along. Children always knew more than adults assumed.

Lara tucked the blanket more securely around her.

”Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?” she asked, deliberately steering the conversation elsewhere.

”No need, Mom...” Shay mumbled, her voice already fading. ”I sooo sleepy.”

She yawned widely—her second one in less than a minute.

Lara smiled faintly. The chemotherapy had drained much of Shay’s strength, but the doctors said her recovery was progressing well. Sleep was a good sign.

Lara was just about to slide beside the quilt when a knock sounded at the door.

She frowned.

Could it be Ares?

It was only eight in the evening. Normally, Shay would still be wide awake at this hour, pestering everyone with questions.

Lara quietly rose and opened the door.

Her brows lifted in surprise.

It wasn’t Ares.

”Asher?”

He stood there holding something behind his back, his posture unusually formal.

”Can I come in?” he asked. His tone was respectful, but there was something else in his eyes—a faint flicker of hesitation... almost guilt.

Lara suddenly became aware of her loose cotton pajamas and silently thanked fate she wasn’t wearing anything more embarrassing.

”Sure,” she said. ”I think she’s still awake.”

She stepped aside.

Asher entered quietly.

Up close, the difference between him and Ares became more noticeable. Asher was perhaps two inches shorter, his frame leaner, almost fragile compared to Ares’ commanding build. The injury he sustained months ago had clearly taken its toll.

But his face carried the same Zuvel bloodline—sharp features, dark brows, and that same piercing gaze.

Only... softer.

In his hands was a large plush toy.

A pink bunny.

He walked toward the bed and sat carefully on the edge, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. He placed the bunny beside Shay.

But when he looked at her—

Shay was already asleep.

Her breathing was soft and even, lashes resting peacefully against her cheeks.

Asher’s expression changed.

Something quiet... and aching... passed through his eyes.

”She looks healthier than the last time I saw her photos,” he said softly, lowering his voice instinctively so he wouldn’t wake her.

”Her chemo finished a few weeks ago,” Lara replied just as quietly. ”She’s recovering well.”

Asher nodded.

After a moment, he gestured for Lara to step outside with him.

They moved carefully toward the door, leaving Shay sleeping peacefully behind them.

Once in the hallway, Asher spoke again.

”First,” he said, turning to her with a serious gaze, ”I want to thank you for staying with Shay when she was kidnapped.”

His voice carried genuine sincerity.

”Anyone else might have abandoned her in that situation.”

Lara simply shook her head.

”It was part of my duty.”

Asher studied her for a moment.

Then he asked carefully, ”Can I ask you something?”

”Sure.”

”How did you become Shay’s governess?”

He had wanted to ask Ares.

But his brother was the type who answered questions with silence. So he chose the more direct route.

Lara paused briefly before answering.

”Well... for some reason Shay seemed to like me even when I was in a coma,” she said lightly. ”When I woke up, she was in my hospital ward.”

Her lips curved faintly at the memory.

”After that, your brother offered me the job. I accepted because it came with food and accommodation.”

Asher’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

”I thought Uncle Leonard and Aunt Madeline took you in as their goddaughter.”

”They did.”

Lara’s tone remained calm.

”But I didn’t want charity.”

She met his gaze steadily.

”I prefer to work for what I receive.”

For a brief second, the hallway fell silent. Asher studied her face as if reassessing something he thought he already understood.

Then slowly, he said,

”You’re not what I expected.”

Lara tilted her head slightly, her expression calm but curious.

”And what exactly did you expect?”

Asher let out a quiet breath, as if the answer weighed heavier than he intended.

”A woman who got close to my brother... for his money.”

His gaze sharpened slightly as he studied her face, watching for the slightest reaction.

”But now I’m starting to think...”

He paused, the silence stretching between them like a drawn thread.

”...that my brother might be the one who got closer to you for a reason.”

Lara blinked once, then shrugged lightly.

”I think he had no choice,” she said with quiet conviction. ”Shay made him do it.”

For a moment, Asher simply stared at her.

Surprise flickered across his face.

A soft, almost incredulous chuckle escaped him.

”That actually sounds like her when it comes to Ares,” he muttered.

Then his expression slowly grew serious again.

He looked at Lara more carefully now, as if measuring something unseen.

”How about me?” he asked after a moment.

His voice carried a faint tremor—subtle, but unmistakable.

”Did Ares tell you something about me?”

Lara frowned slightly.

”Huh? What about you?”

Her confusion was genuine.

Asher watched her for a long second, searching her eyes. Then he shook his head.

”Nothing.”

But the word didn’t settle easily.

He hesitated. His fingers curled loosely at his side, like a man standing at the edge of a difficult confession.

After a beat, he spoke again.

”Do you... blame the driver who caused your accident a year ago?”