The General's Daughter: The Mission

Lunch stretched for nearly two hours, yet no one at the table seemed eager to leave. The atmosphere was thick with ambition, greed, and the quiet tension of people standing at the edge of history.

Philip Hardy dominated the conversation.

With the confidence of a man who already saw the future unfolding in his favor, he laid out the government’s plans for Calma. Whether the excavation uncovered scattered ruins or an entire city preserved from the golden age of Azuverda, the administration had already prepared for every possibility.

Calma would become the greatest archaeological discovery of the century.

Tourism. Research grants. International partnerships. Media rights. The profits would be immeasurable.

But before foreign corporations could sink their claws into the discovery, the government intended to secure local investors first.

That afternoon, Philip Hardy and several representatives from the Historical Commission formally signed a contract with ShelTex Corporation, the biggest retailer of automotive fuel in the country co-owned by Anton Trillo.

The investment amount was astronomical.

And yet, despite the staggering sum, it only earned Anton a mere two percent stake in the project.

The contracts now sat neatly inside leather folders, waiting only for notarization before becoming legally binding.

Anton hid his displeasure well, but not perfectly.

The faint tightening of his jaw betrayed him.

A man like him was accustomed to owning rooms, companies, even people. Being handed a measly two percent felt less like a business deal and more like an insult.

Dessert arrived shortly after, but Anton barely touched his plate.

Instead, his gaze drifted once again toward Lara.

”Miss Larissa,” he said smoothly, his warm smile shaving years off his otherwise imposing face, ”you seem exceptionally knowledgeable about the mausoleum. There are still certain aspects of it that interest me.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes never leaving hers.

”Would it be too much to ask for you to accompany me there again? Perhaps give me a more... personal orientation?”

Lara hesitated.

The pause was brief, but noticeable.

”Of course, Sir Trillo,” Grace Varona answered before Lara could speak. ”You are a shareholder now. It’s only proper that Larissa accompanies you.”

Grace caught Lara’s reluctance instantly and cut off any chance for refusal.

”Dr. Grace,” Lara began carefully, ”Amelia and I already have an appointment later today. We’re meeting another production company interested in acquiring the filming rights to Amelia’s novel.”

”Is that more important than escorting out two VIPs?” Grace asked displeased.

”You mean Legacy Entertainment?” Anton asked casually, though his expression remained unreadable.

Deep inside, irritation coiled through him like smoke.

No woman rejected him.

Not once.

So how dare this one try?

”Yes,” Amelia replied. ”We’re scheduled to meet them at three.”

Anton lifted two fingers.

That was all the signal his assistant needed.

The tall man—who looked more bodyguard than secretary—quietly exited the restaurant. Barely ten minutes later, he returned and leaned down beside Anton.

”Boss, it’s settled. Legacy Entertainment moved Miss Amelia Nades’ appointment to tomorrow morning.”

”What?” Amelia blurted out before she could stop herself.

Legacy Entertainment was one of the giants of the entertainment industry. Producers there were nearly impossible to approach unless you had power, money, or connections strong enough to bend schedules.

Slowly, she looked at Anton differently.

Just how powerful was this man?

And what exactly was his relationship with Legacy Entertainment?

Anton seemed amused by her astonishment.

”I’m one of the shareholders,” he admitted plainly. ”And I do hope Miss Nades will consider their offer favorably.”

Amelia stared at him with open admiration now.

”Well... we’ll see about that,” she replied, trying to sound composed despite the excitement bubbling beneath her voice.

Lara, however, remained unmoved.

”Then we should get going, Sir Trillo,” she said politely, rising from her seat. ”I still have plans this evening.”

Across the table, Ares’ expression darkened instantly.

The sharp look he threw Anton could have cut steel.

”Then I’ll accompany you as well, Mr. Trillo,” he said coolly.

Anton let out a soft sneer.

”I’d rather you don’t, Ares.”

The deliberate drop in formality did not go unnoticed.

”The ground we’ll be walking on may not survive the weight of both of us.” His lips curved faintly. ”Surely you can spare me your daughter’s governess for a few hours?”

Ares’ jaw tightened.

The words sounded harmless enough, but the provocation beneath them was unmistakable.

”Don’t worry,” Anton added smoothly. ”I’ll compensate her generously for her time.”

Before the tension could sharpen further, Randell stepped in.

”Ares,” the older man said firmly, ”just let Lara accompany him. She knows the Kromwel Mausoleum better than anyone here.”

Randell had sensed it from the very beginning—the growing hostility simmering beneath the table.

And if no one intervened soon, it would erupt.

Ares inhaled sharply. He did not say a word, a sign that he was not agreeable but could not contradict his grandfather.

”Actually, there is something I want to show Miss Larissa and Miss Nades, but unfortunately, they were stored in a vault somewhere.”

Lara raised an eyebrow.

”I’ll show you later. But first, let us go back to the mausoleum.”

...

A smaller group reentered the burial chamber while the others remained outside.

Anton Trillo. Governor Sanchez. One bodyguard each.

The rest of their security detail waited outside the tomb.

Of course, Grace Varona and Philip Hardy stayed behind as representatives of the Historical Commission.

And Liam remained as well, standing beside Amelia like a silent sentinel, his sharp eyes constantly sweeping the chamber for threats.

Anton slowly pulled out his phone and activated its laser pointer.

A thin red dot landed on the walls.

It stopped near the lower corner of the prince’s portrait—on a small circular symbol etched beside the royal figure.

”Do you know what this is?” Anton asked quietly.

His voice echoed low against the chamber walls.

Amelia narrowed her eyes.

From where she stood, the symbol looked vaguely familiar, but the details were difficult to make out.

She circled around the sarcophagus and moved closer to the mural.

The closer she got, the stranger the symbol felt.

”It looks like... a crest,” she murmured. ”There’s an animal engraved inside.”

”Correct.”

Lara’s calm voice drifted through the chamber.

”That is Prince Edward’s royal crest.” She stepped beside Amelia, her gaze fixed on the ancient carving. ”The evasive Red Wolf—Lobo—from Galeyan mythology.”

Amelia blinked.

Then her eyes widened in realization, making her expression appear almost childishly innocent.

”Right...” she breathed. ”How could I forget?”

Her gaze traveled across the mural once more.

”Each of Emperor Alaric’s sons possessed their own crest,” she said slowly, recalling the old legends. ”And every crest featured one of the rarest mythical beasts in the empire.”

The air inside the tomb seemed to grow heavier after those words.

Because suddenly, the symbol no longer looked decorative.

It looked important.