The General's Daughter: The Mission

The day of the auction had finally arrived.

It was deliberately scheduled to coincide with the grand opening of the Imperial Hotel, Ares Zuvel’s newest real estate masterpiece—a five-story, palace-like landmark perched on the western edge of Isla’s lake. As the sun dipped toward the horizon, its golden light washed over the gleaming white façade, making the hotel look like a royal palace rising from the water.

The auction would be held in the hotel’s magnificent ground-floor ballroom.

By late afternoon, luxury cars streamed through the gates one after another. Titans of business, influential politicians, celebrated entertainers, and international socialites filled the hotel’s grand entrance.

Rumors spread through the crowd that members of the royal family of Zalmeria—one of the world’s oldest surviving monarchies—had quietly arrived to attend the event.

Long before the seven o’clock opening, the ballroom, capable of accommodating eight thousand guests, was already alive with conversation. Waiters moved effortlessly through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres while guests admired the priceless collection displayed at the center of the hall.

The treasures of the Kromwel Dynasty rested inside a massive square glass showcase set atop an elevated platform. The display rotated slowly, allowing everyone an unobstructed view of the glittering jewelry, rare artifacts, and centuries-old heirlooms from every angle.

Security was tighter than ever. Liam Norse and Aquilo Vibora personally oversaw the operation, assisted by a heavy military presence stationed throughout the hotel. No one entered without thorough inspection.

At exactly six o’clock, an hour before the auction began, Ares and Lara made their entrance.

Lara wore a simple white gown with flowing skirt whispering against the marble floor with every graceful step. The fitted bodice accentuated her slender figure, while the square neckline framed her collarbones beautifully. Around her neck rested a breathtaking diamond necklace, matched by elegant earrings, and atop her her head was a diamond tiara—the very pieces that would later go under the auctioneer’s hammer.

Beside her, Ares wore a charcoal-gray bespoke suit tailored to perfection. Its understated elegance only amplified the commanding aura he naturally carried, drawing attention the moment he stepped into the ballroom.

At first, Lara flatly refused to wear the jewelry. She insisted that a renowned model should showcase the pieces instead, believing they deserved someone accustomed to the spotlight.

But Amelia wouldn’t let the matter rest.

”They look perfect on you,” she said with a smile. ”It’s as if they were made just for you. Besides, a famous model wearing it would diminish the value of the set.”

If only she knew.

They had indeed been made for her—commissioned by Aragon Delmar, the King of Estalis, as a gift. She had worn the necklace and earrings during the seventh birthday celebration of Aldrich and Althea.

The memories stirred uneasily within her, and the thought of wearing them again made her chest tighten.

Yet whenever Amelia looked at her with those pleading eyes—eyes so hauntingly similar to Althea’s—Lara found herself unable to refuse.

In the end, she relented, but only on one condition.

”They’ll be the first items auctioned tonight,” she said firmly. ”The sooner they’re gone, the better.”

...

Amelia arrived a little later, escorted by Liam, with Lucas and Layla following close behind. As expected, Summer tagged along, seizing every opportunity to wedge herself between Amelia and Liam.

Summer casually slipped her hand around Liam’s arm, laughing a little too loudly at every remark he made and doing everything she could to monopolize his attention.

Liam, however, remained courteous without encouraging her. Whenever she inched closer, he subtly but deliberately created some distance between them. More often than not, his gaze drifted back to Amelia.

He had learned that lesson the hard way on Isla.

Back then, he had dismissed Amelia’s feelings, believing there was no harm in indulging Summer. By the time he realized how much he had hurt her, she had already begun pulling away.

He wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. He did not want to give others the slightest chance of stealing her away from him.

”I have a few things to take care of,” he said, stopping in front of Amelia. His expression softened as their eyes met. ”Keep yourselves entertained for a while.”

Amelia returned his smile with an understanding nod.

”Go ahead,” she said gently. ”Your work comes first. We’ll be fine.”

Liam had barely disappeared into the crowd when a sudden commotion erupted near the ballroom entrance.

Conversations died down as dozens of heads turned toward the doors.

”So the royal family finally arrived?” someone whispered.

”It must be them. Look at the commotion.”

But everyone had guessed wrong.

A young woman in a fiery crimson mermaid gown stepped gracefully into the ballroom, every camera immediately swinging in her direction. On her arm was none other than business tycoon Anton Trillo.

The actress was the female lead of the highly anticipated historical epic The Prince Who Chose Me Over the Crown, a dramatized retelling of the life of Alaric and Lara’s youngest son—the Fifth Prince.

Anton had reportedly invested a fortune in the production, determined to lend credibility to his long-standing claim that his family descended from the Fifth Prince’s bloodline.

Lara had read countless articles about Anton’s supposed royal ancestry. According to the rumors, he had attended tonight’s auction to reclaim what he believed were heirlooms stolen from his ancestors.

She had never believed those stories. Claims of royal blood were easy to fabricate.

Yet the moment her eyes settled on Anton, an inexplicable chill crept down her spine.

Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t explain it.

There was nothing outwardly threatening about him. He wore an impeccably tailored tuxedo, his smile polished and charming enough to captivate the cameras surrounding him.

But beneath that refined exterior... she sensed something disturbingly familiar.

The same instinctive aversion she had once felt toward Turik.

The same feeling that warned her a smiling face could conceal a ruthless soul.

As though drawn by her gaze, Anton suddenly looked in her direction.

Their eyes met across the crowded ballroom.

For several long seconds, neither looked away.

Then, slowly...

The corner of Anton’s mouth curled into a knowing smile.

He lifted two fingers to his lips before extending them toward her in an exaggerated gesture, as though sending her a kiss.

The gesture should have looked playful. Instead, it felt like a deliberate provocation. A declaration that he had noticed her long before she had noticed him.

A wave of revulsion washed over Lara. Her stomach lurched. Every instinct screamed at her to look away.

Beside her, Ares immediately sensed the change.

He felt her body stiffen, saw the color drain from her face, and instinctively shifted closer until their shoulders nearly touched.

His eyes followed hers across the ballroom, landing on Anton.

His expression darkened.

”Lara?”

His voice was low, laced with concern.

”Are you okay?”