The General's Daughter: The Mission

Layla could not sleep that night.

It had nothing to do with the unfamiliar room. It was everything that had happened during and after dinner.

She lay on her bed for what felt like hours, staring blankly at the ceiling as the same thoughts kept circling through her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lara.

Her return had changed something, and she was scared.

Layla could feel it.

Finally, unable to bear the restlessness any longer, she threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.

She reached for the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the bedside table. She hesitated for a moment before slipping them into her hand.

Her brothers didn’t know she smoked.

She had made sure of that.

She picked up the habit in college, but she had always kept it carefully hidden. None of the Norse brothers smoked, and if they ever discovered her secret, she knew exactly what would happen.

They would lecture her.

And if that wasn’t enough, they would tell their parents.

So Layla had learned to be careful. She smoked only when she was certain no one was watching, choosing secluded places and making sure the smell of cigarette smoke never lingered on her clothes.

It was one of the few things she had managed to keep entirely to herself.

Tonight, however, she needed something to calm the storm inside her.

Layla slid open the glass balcony door and stepped outside.

A cool night breeze brushed against her skin.

The moon hung above Calma like a silver crescent, casting a faint glow over the gardens below. The stars seemed unusually bright here, scattered across the dark sky in a way she rarely saw in the capital. For a moment, the peaceful scenery should have comforted her.

Instead, it made her miss home.

She missed the Norse mansion.

She missed the familiar corridors, the warmth of her family’s voices, and the feeling that she belonged there without having to question it.

At the Norse mansion, she had been General Leonard’s only daughter.

She had been the little sister her brothers had spoiled and protected for years—the one they teased mercilessly but would defend without hesitation.

She had never doubted her place in their hearts.

Until Lara came back.

Layla’s fingers tightened around the cigarette pack.

Lara was their daughter, their sister—the family member they had spent years believing they had lost forever.

What would happen now?

Would her father still look at her the same way? Would her brothers still rush to her side whenever she needed them?

Or would their attention slowly shift toward Lara?

The thought twisted painfully in her chest. Layla hated herself for thinking that way.

But she was afraid.

For the first time in her life, she was afraid that she might lose the place she had always believed was hers.

Her hand trembled slightly as she pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

The tiny flame illuminated her face for a fleeting second before disappearing.

She took a long drag and slowly exhaled, watching the smoke dissolve into the night air.

She suddenly wished she could call Summer.

She wanted to hear her friend’s voice. She wanted to tell someone about the fear gnawing at her heart, the jealousy she was ashamed to admit, and the uncertainty she could no longer push away.

But how could she explain it?

And if she told Summer about Lara, would things change between them?

Would Summer still treat her the same way? Would her friends still look at her as someone special, or would they begin looking at her differently once they knew the truth?

Layla lowered her eyes.

She didn’t have the courage to find out.

She took another drag, then abruptly crushed the cigarette beneath her fingers and dropped it into the garden below.

For several minutes, she simply stood there.

The breeze moved through her hair as she stared at the crescent moon.

Then she began pacing. Back and forth.

She stopped only when the questions in her mind became too painful to bear.

What if Lara took her place? What if her brothers loved Lara more? What if, after all these years, Layla was no longer the daughter everyone chose first?

She wrapped her arms around herself.

For the first time, the Norse mansion did not feel like the safest place in the world.

It felt like a place she might soon have to fight to keep.

...

The alarm on Artemio’s bedside table went off.

He silenced it immediately.

From the neighboring house came the faint sounds of movement.

Artemio did not turn on the light. He slipped out of bed and crossed the darkened room, his footsteps soundless against the floor. At the window, he stopped and slowly parted the shutters just enough to see outside.

His gaze settled on the neighboring balcony.

On Layla.

She stood beneath the pale moonlight, a cigarette glowing between her fingers.

Artemio watched in silence.

The way she held the cigarette, the steady rhythm of her movements, the ease with which she drew in the smoke—she was no novice. She had clearly been smoking for a long time.

He watched her drew deeply, held the smoke for a moment, then release it slowly through her nose.

Layla paced the narrow balcony, taking another drag before slowly exhaling into the night. Her movements were restless, almost agitated.

She was troubled.

And Artemio knew exactly why.

He had already suspected that the Norses had discovered Lara’s true identity. Tonight’s dinner had only confirmed his suspicion.

The way they had treated Lara was different.

The warmth. The attention. The subtle shift in the family’s demeanor.

They knew.

And Layla felt threatened.

She was afraid that Lara’s return would cost her the place she had fought so hard to secure within the Norse family.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Artemio’s lips.

Fear made people careless.

And Layla was already showing him exactly where to press.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. He had been looking for an opening. Now, it had presented itself.

Layla was vulnerable.

And vulnerable people were easy to manipulate.

Artemio’s smile deepened.

He had just found himself a new pawn.

Lara, do you think you can escape my grasp? If I can’t use you, I will destroy you with my own hands.