The General's Daughter: The Mission

A small group of nurses entered, followed by another resident doctor. New faces. Same routine.

The questions came again, as predictable as the beeping machines. When was the last time you urinated? How much? Any pain? Any pressure? Dizziness? Nausea?

Lara answered at first. Then, gradually, her patience thinned, thread by thread.

One of the nurses—a woman with black-rimmed glasses and a rigid, almost rehearsed posture—stepped closer and smiled too carefully. ”I just need to take your blood pressure.”

”They already took my vitals earlier,” Lara said.

The nurse froze.

Not because Lara had raised her voice—she hadn’t. The words were calm. Neutral. But the air shifted, subtle and unmistakable, like the pause before a verdict is passed.

Lara noticed immediately.

”Your hands are shaking,” she said softly.

The nurse blinked. ”I—sorry, Miss Reyes.”

”It’s fine,” Lara replied. ”Sit first. You’ll be steadier.” Then, without accusation, ”But I’d appreciate it if you all spoke to each other. Or checked the chart. Should I expect more people today to ask the same questions?”

No one answered.

Lara reached for her phone and opened a health app she’d downloaded earlier that morning. Her fingers moved confidently as she logged numbers and notes.

”I’ll just show this to the next group,” she said. ”Save everyone some time.”

A nurse adjusted her clipboard. Another avoided Lara’s eyes.

The resident doctor’s expression hardened. ”That’s rude. The nurses are doing their jobs.”

Lara lifted her gaze to him—briefly—then let it fall to the nameplate on his chest.

Cardiologist.

She looked back up at him, eyes cool, measuring.

”I didn’t say they weren’t,” she said.

The room held its breath.

They finished quickly after that. No lingering questions. No unnecessary steps. The moment the routine was complete, the group exited, relief written plainly on their faces. Outside the door, shoulders dropped. Someone exhaled too loudly.

”That patient .... why do I feel like I am afraid of her? I felt stifled inside.” A nurse whispered to her companion.

Ares paused as he approached the doorway, Shay half-asleep in his arms. He glanced briefly at the group before stepping inside.

Earlier, Shay’s nurse had mentioned that Doctor Fenn had stopped by—had even offered Lara accommodation after her discharge.

Ares didn’t know much about Yannis Fenn, only that he was a renowned neurologist with an almost unbelievable surgical success rate at such a young age.

Curious, Ares pulled out his phone and searched his name.

The results surprised him.

Young. Striking. Mixed heritage. Sharp features softened by a charming smile. And those blue eyes—even he could not help but have a second look.

”Mmm... Daddy,” Shay mumbled, eyes still closed. ”I sleepy. I wanna sleep more.”

He smiled faintly. ”What if I told you someone wants to take your mommy?”

That did it.

Shay’s eyes flew open. ”What? Who?” she gasped. ”My mommy?”

”Yes.”

She pushed herself upright, hair sticking up in every direction. ”No! Mommy stays with me. Mommy is mine.”

”Then you better wake up, little bear,” Ares said, holding up his phone. ”Or this doctor will take her.”

Shay squinted at the screen, then squeaked.

”No!” She scrambled off the bed, grabbing Ares’ hand with both of hers. ”Come, Daddy! Go fast! Let’s go to Mommy!”

She tugged him toward the door with all the urgency only a four-year-old could summon.

...

Lara was absorbed in her phone when the door opened. Expecting yet another rotation of nurses, she lifted her head with a flicker of irritation—only to find herself caught in a pair of obsidian eyes.

For a brief second, everything else faded.

Ares frowned. The annoyance in her gaze hadn’t been directed at him, yet it lingered all the same, like she had been interrupted from something private. As though his presence alone had broken a rare moment of quiet.

Before he could speak, Shay wriggled impatiently in his arms.

”Daddy, put me down! I wanna go!”

He barely had time to loosen his hold before she slipped free. The moment her feet touched the floor, she bolted across the room, small shoes slapping against the tile.

”Mommy!”

Lara had just taken a step toward them when Shay collided with her at full speed.

The impact knocked the air from Lara’s lungs. Pain flared through her abdomen, sharp and sudden, and her knees buckled. She hadn’t yet regained her strength, hadn’t yet learned how to trust her body again—and Shay, light as she was, might as well have been a cannonball.

The room tilted violently.

Lara felt herself falling.

Strong hands caught her before she hit the floor, firm and steady, anchoring her in place. Ares pulled her upright with instinctive precision, his grip secure around her waist as he bore most of her weight.

”Are you alright, Miss Reyes?” he asked, his voice low, controlled.

”I am fine. Thank you, Mr. Zuvel,” she said softly

Ares frowned. Why was it Mr. Zuvel again? Didn’t she call him Ares yesterday?

His hands lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he released her and crouched to Shay’s level.

”Why would you do that?” he scolded gently but firmly. ”Didn’t you know Miss Reyes is still sick? She’s not strong yet.”

Shay’s bright black eyes filled instantly. Tears pooled, trembling but stubbornly lingered at the corner of her eyes. Her small mouth quivered as she looked up at Lara, guilt written plainly across her face.

”Mommy... Sorry,” she whispered. ”I just... I missed you so much. I wanted a hug.”

Something in Lara’s chest gave way. Then slowly bent down, ignoring the faint protest of her muscles until she was eye-level with Shay. ”It’s okay, sweetheart. Come here. You can hug me—but gently.”

Shay’s face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds. She nodded eagerly, arms spreading wide before she wrapped them carefully around Lara, pressing her cheek against her with reverent care.

Ares straightened, his gaze sharpening.

What is it about this woman?

Shay clung to her as if she belonged there, as if Lara were something familiar, something safe. Ares had never seen her attach herself so quickly—so completely, and to think that she was a stranger.

He let them be for a moment before stepping in. ”That’s enough, little one. Miss Reyes will get tired.”

”I am not heavy,” Shay protested weakly.

”You are when you love-tackle people,” he replied dryly.

That earned a small giggle, and when he added, ”If she gets sick again, you’ll cry,” Shay reluctantly loosened her hold.

Ares lifted her and carried her to the couch. Shay insisted on sitting beside Lara, pressing her thigh against hers as if to make sure she didn’t disappear. Ares took the seat opposite them, folding his hands calmly, his expression unreadable.

”Have you made your decision, Miss Reyes?” he asked.

”Yes. I choose —”