The General's Daughter: The Mission

Meanwhile, inside one of the modular command houses, the air in Leonard Norse’s office was thick with discipline—and something sharper beneath it.

And yet—

The moment Liam stepped in, that order began to crack.

”Dad,” Liam said, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary, ”tell me the truth.”

Leonard didn’t look up immediately. He lifted a glass of water to his lips, unbothered.

”Did you mess around with a woman back then,” Liam continued, his voice tight, controlled, ”and father a child?”

The effect was immediate.

Leonard choked.

Water went down the wrong pipe, and the seasoned general—who had walked through gunfire without flinching—was reduced to a fit of rough, undignified coughing. The glass trembled in his grip as he struggled to recover.

It took several long seconds before he could even speak.

”You brat—” Leonard’s voice came out low and dangerous, fraying at the edges as he slammed the glass onto the table. The sharp crack echoed louder than it should have. ”What kind of nonsense are you spouting?”

His gaze snapped to Liam—cold, cutting, merciless. The kind of look that had broken men twice his size on the battlefield.

”I am loyal to your mother,” Leonard growled, each word heavy with conviction. ”She is the only woman in my life.”

The room fell into a tense silence.

Liam didn’t answer immediately.

Because he believed that.

Leonard Norse was a man carved from discipline and war—ruthless when needed, commanding without question, feared by allies and enemies alike.

But dishonor? That had never once been part of his legend. Not in whispers, not in rumors, not even in the desperate fabrications of those who wanted to see him fall.

And it wasn’t for lack of temptation.

Even now, past his prime in years but not in presence, women still circled him—drawn like moths to something dangerous and untouchable. Young, ambitious, relentless. Some craved his power, others the prestige of his name. Many simply admired the body that time had failed to weaken, the aura of a man who still stood like an unyielding wall.

None succeeded.

Not one.

Leonard’s devotion to his wife was absolute—unyielding, unquestioned, etched into the very marrow of who he was.

Liam let out a slow breath, steadying himself.

Liam exhaled slowly.

”But what if you didn’t know?” he asked at last, his voice quieter now—but sharpened, more precise. ”What if it wasn’t your choice? What if you were drugged... manipulated?” A pause. Then, carefully: ”What if you unknowingly fathered a daughter?”

The shift was instant.

Leonard’s face darkened, like a storm rolling in without warning.

The air in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

His fist slammed into the table—hard enough to rattle everything on it. Papers jumped. Water sloshed violently over the rim of the glass, spilling across the polished surface in uneven rivulets.

”Liam Norse!”

The full name hit like a bullet.

”Do not slander me,” Leonard roared, his voice carrying the weight of decades of command—the kind that could silence chaos, the kind men obeyed without thinking. ”I have served in the army for most of my life. You think I wouldn’t know if I had fathered a child outside this family?”

Liam instinctively took a step back.

That tone... he had crossed a line.

”I—I’m sorry, Dad,” Liam said quickly, the sharpness in his tone faltering, breaking apart under pressure. ”It’s just...”

The words caught in his throat.

For a brief second, he considered holding them back.

He didn’t.

”Larissa Reyes...” he said, quieter now, but no less heavy. ”She looks like us. Anyone who sees her would think she’s our sister.”

The anger in the room didn’t vanish, but it changed shape.

Leonard went utterly still.

A dangerous kind of stillness, like a predator pausing mid-step.

”Do you think I didn’t notice that?” Leonard said at last, his voice lower now, stripped of its earlier explosion but no less forceful. Each word landed with measured precision. ”Why do you think your mother and I considered adopting her?”

His gaze hardened, pinning Liam in place.

”It is precisely because her visage mirrors Lucas.”

Liam blinked, caught off guard.

”I... didn’t know,” he admitted, more quietly this time. ”I didn’t see it at first. Only now.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew it.

Leonard turned fully toward him, and there it was—that look.

Not anger but disappointment.

To Liam, it felt heavier and far more cutting.

”Sometimes,” Leonard said slowly, ”I wonder if you are blind... or simply choosing to be.”

The words weren’t loud, but they struck Liam where it hurt the most.

”You pride yourself on being the finest strategist of your generation,” he continued, his voice calm in a way that made it worse. ”And yet you fail at the most fundamental skill—seeing people for what they are.”

Liam’s jaw tightened.

He looked away, unable—or unwilling—to withstand the weight of that gaze any longer.

Silence followed, pressing in from all sides.

Seconds stretched.

Then—

Something shifted.

A flicker crossed Leonard’s face—so fleeting it might have been missed if Liam had not been looking.

But he was.

Hope.

”Could it be...” Leonard murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. His voice had lost its edge, replaced by something quieter—almost hesitant. ”Could she truly be your sister?”

The question lingered in the air.

Unanswered.

And for the first time since the conversation began—

Leonard Norse did not sound like a general.

He sounded like a man standing on the edge of something he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

The possibility lingered in the air...

But just as quickly, reality crashed in.

Leonard straightened, his expression hardening again.

”No,” he said, more firmly this time. ”People can resemble each other without sharing blood.”

He exhaled through his nose, as if grounding himself.

”I once had a subordinate who looked fifty percent like me,” he added. ”We weren’t related at all.”

Still—

His gaze lingered on Liam, thoughtful now. Calculating.

Of all his sons, Liam had always been the sharpest when it came to getting information. Where Logan relied on instinct and force, Liam relied on patterns, consistencies... truth.

”Investigate her background,” Leonard said at last. ”Quietly.”

A beat.

Liam’s jaw tightened.

”I already did.”

That caught Leonard’s attention.

”And?” he asked.

”There’s only one anomaly,” Liam replied. ”She was kidnapped when she was young. Didn’t return until she was ten... maybe eleven.”

The room went still again.

Kidnapped. Missing years. Indeed, an anomaly.

Leonard’s fingers tapped once against the desk.

Then he said, low and decisive—

”Get a DNA test.”