The General's Daughter: The Mission

Artemio woke to the sound of commotion coming from the nearby house in the General’s Quarters.

Still groggy, he pushed himself out of bed and walked toward the window. His bedroom was on the third floor, giving him a clear view of the road below.

He pulled the curtain aside just enough to peer through the gap.

A sleek electric vehicle had stopped in front of the neighboring house.

It was one of the newest models permitted on Isla—a compact four-seater SUV powered entirely by electricity. Its silent motor made barely a sound as it came to a stop, a sharp contrast to the voices and footsteps now stirring the quiet morning.

Then the passenger door opened.

A woman stepped out.

Artemio froze.

Madeline.

She stepped out of the car in a pale yellow dress, the color almost luminous beneath the soft morning sun. Her hair was twisted into a careless bun, with a few loose strands brushing her cheeks as the breeze moved around her.

Artemio’s breath caught.

It was ridiculous.

After all these years, one glimpse of her could still make him feel as though he was seeing her for the first time.

Madeline.

His white moonlight.

She hadn’t changed in the ways that mattered. There was still that quiet grace in the way she moved, that gentle smile that seemed to soften everything around her.

Then the door on the driver side opened.

Leonard stepped out.

Artemio’s expression changed.

He watched as Leonard walked around the vehicle and approached Madeline. Without hesitation, she slipped her hand around his arm.

She smiled.

It was a small, effortless gesture.

But from the third floor, Artemio felt something inside him tighten.

Madeline and Leonard walked toward the house together. A maid followed behind them, struggling beneath the weight of Madeline’s luggage.

Artemio didn’t move.

He remained by the window until the three figures disappeared through the entrance.

Only then did he release the curtain.

His expression was unreadable.

He stood there for a long moment, thinking.

Then he reached for his cellphone.

He made a call.

The moment it connected, his voice became warm and gentle.

”Honey, aren’t the kids on vacation for the next two weeks? Why don’t you come over to Isla?”

There was a brief silence.

Then Marian’s excited voice came through the phone.

”Really?”

”Really.”

The tenderness in Artemio’s voice was almost impossible to reconcile with the coldness that had filled his eyes moments earlier.

They spoke for a few more minutes before he finally ended the call.

...

Marian had long wanted to visit Isla.

Everyone was talking about the island.

She wanted photographs inside the Kromwel Mausoleum, to see Hevenfort with her own eyes. She could already imagine the envy on her friends’ faces when she posts the photos on social media.

But Artemio had always refused to let her come.

His work was confidential, he had told her. Family members were not permitted to visit.

So when he suddenly invited her, Marian’s heart leapt.

He must have missed her.

It had been months since they last saw each other, and she had missed him terribly.

Marian was more than a wealthy socialite. She was the daughter of a senator and ten years younger than Artemio.

She had fallen for him years ago, when her father—then newly elected to his first term as mayor—visited the military academy in the North.

Marian had pestered her father until he finally allowed her to come along.

That was where she first met Artemio.

He was everything she found impressive in a man—disciplined, respectable, confident, and unfailingly courteous.

Whenever his duties allowed, he personally accompanied her around the academy and even showed her parts of the city.

She had fallen for him before she even realized it.

His past marriage hadn’t bothered her. A dead marriage was hardly an obstacle.

And as far as she knew, there were no children to complicate things.

Then she discovered Lara.

The first time Marian saw the girl inside Artemio’s house, she had stared at her in confusion.

”Who is she?”

Artemio’s answer had been simple.

An orphan.

The daughter of a former colleague who had died in the line of duty. He had taken pity on the child and brought her home.

Marian hadn’t liked it.

But Artemio had quickly put her mind at ease.

Lara wasn’t family.

He wasn’t raising her as a daughter.

He was training her.

Someone who could carry out the tasks that could only be done in the dark.

That explanation should have made Marian feel better.

It didn’t.

There was something about the girl that irritated her.

Perhaps it was because Marian knew that no matter what Artemio said, the child was still living under his roof.

After all, who would willingly become a stepmother to a bastard child?

But as the years passed, Marian began to notice something else.

Artemio never treated Lara like a daughter.

He never hugged her, kissed her forehead nor comforted her when she was hurt.

There was no tenderness in the way he looked at her

Only expectation.

Only orders and absolute obedience.

Marian eventually stopped worrying.

Whatever Lara was to Artemio, she certainly wasn’t a daughter.

But there were two rules Artemio had given Marian.

Keep her alive.

And make her believe she is our daughter.

Marian had never asked why.

As long as the girl stayed alive and remained useful to Artemio, Marian could tolerate her presence.

Those rules were all that stood between Lara and complete abandonment.

Then Marian gave birth to twins—Aiden and Aira.

The children demanded so much from Lara and Marian let them do whatever they wanted to her.

After all, Lara wasn’t her child.

She was simply someone who happened to live under the same roof.

...

When the twins were two, they discovered their favorite game.

Making the eight year old Lara their horse.

Sometimes they climbed onto her back and ordered her to crawl around the house.

Sometimes they made her bark like a puppy.

And whenever Lara refused, the twins would scream, cry, and run to their mother.

One afternoon, Aira came running to Marian with tears in her eyes.

”Mommy! Lara won’t let us ride horsie!”

Marian looked toward Lara.

The girl had only just returned from another mission her father had sent her on.

Another night alone in the forest. Another training of survival.

Mud still stained her clothes. Her hair was tangled, her lips dry, and every movement seemed to cost her effort.

She looked exhausted.

Lara rubbed her eyes.

”Aiden, Aira, no games right now. Sis is really tired.”

Her voice was weak.

She felt as though her entire body had turned to jelly and everything was closing in on her.