It was past eight when General Leonard Norse finally entered his quarters, the long day etched into the rigid lines of his face. He paused the moment he stepped inside.

All three of his sons were there.

That alone was enough to unsettle him.

They weren’t talking. They weren’t moving. They were waiting.

And then his eyes landed on Liam—and the document laid carefully on the table in front of him.

Something inside his chest tightened.

"You have the result?" Leonard asked, his voice low, controlled—but just barely.

He crossed the room in two long strides, each step heavier than the last, as if he already knew that whatever was written on that paper would change everything.

"Dad," Logan cut in, his brows furrowed, suspicion sharp in his tone. "Did you assign Liam a mission? What is this about?"

Leonard didn’t answer.

His hand trembled—barely noticeable, but there—as he picked up the document.

The moment his eyes scanned the results, the world seemed to tilt.

It was as if time collapsed inward, dragging years of grief, regret, and unanswered questions into a single, crushing second.

"It... it’s true..." he whispered.

The words scraped out of his throat like they didn’t belong to him.

"She is... of my blood...my daughter."

His knees buckled.

For a man who had stood unshaken on battlefields, who had faced death without flinching—this was what broke him.

He caught the edge of the table just in time, gripping it like a lifeline.

Lucas stepped forward, alarm flashing across his face. "What? Dad—who are you talking about?"

"Larissa Reyes..." Leonard breathed, the name foreign and painfully familiar all at once. His lips trembled as he corrected himself, voice cracking under the weight of memory.

"No... Lara..."

The name—her name—felt sacred. Fragile.

She was alive.

His chest constricted violently, as if years of suppressed grief had suddenly been given permission to exist.

All those nights.

All those silent searches.

All those moments he forced himself to accept the unthinkable—that his daughter, his little girl, was gone.

Dead. Gone without a trace.

And now—

She had been here. Right in front of them.

Breathing. Living. Smiling. Calling him Godfather.

"Dad, stop keeping us in suspense!" Logan snapped, though there was an edge to his voice now—not just impatience, but unease. "What about Lara?"

He snatched the document from Leonard’s hand.

His eyes scanned the page—and then widened.

"A sibling DNA test result?" Logan muttered, but the confusion didn’t stay confusion for long.

It hardened.

His eyes locked onto the name.

Jane Marcelo.

Everything in him went still.

Then something dark and immediate surged up—fast, defensive, almost violent.

"Dad..." His voice dropped, rough, disbelieving. "Who the hell is Jane Marcelo?"

Leonard didn’t answer.

That was all it took.

Logan’s grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling under his fingers.

"No," he said, shaking his head, backing up a step as if the distance might make the words less real. "No—don’t tell me—"

His eyes snapped back up, anger breaking through.

"You had another daughter?" he demanded, voice rising. "All this time? While Mom—while we—"

His chest heaved.

"How long?" he pushed, stepping forward now, each word sharper than the last. "How long were you planning to keep this from us? Or were we just never supposed to know?"

"Logan—" Lucas tried, but Logan didn’t even hear him.

"Was she just some mistake you buried?" Logan went on, the words spilling now, reckless and cutting. "Is that it? You preach honor, discipline, loyalty—was that all just for show?"

The room seemed to shrink around them.

Leonard didn’t move nor did he speak.

But something in his expression shifted—tightened.

That silence only made it worse.

Logan let out a harsh, humorless laugh, his voice breaking at the edges.

"Unbelievable," he said. "You cheated on Mom... and this is how we find out?"

The accusation didn’t just hang in the air—

It struck.

Heavy. Irreversible.

For a split second, no one breathed.

Then—

"Idiot."

Liam’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

Cold. Precise. But underneath it—shaken.

"That’s a decoy," he said, his jaw tight. "The sample belonged to Lara... Larissa Reyes."

A heavy silence lingered in the air.

Not the quiet kind—but the kind that roars in your ears.

... 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Logan felt it before he understood it.

Felt the words hit him. Felt them detonate.

Lara.

The name echoed in his mind like a distant explosion finally reaching him.

His grip on the paper loosened.

"No..." he whispered, but it wasn’t denial—it was disbelief unraveling.

Faint memories surged uninvited.

The baby who laughed too easily.

The baby girl who looked at them like they were her whole world.

The baby they had sworn to protect.

His stomach dropped.

"Larissa... is Lara," he whispered.

The name echoed in his head, splitting something open inside him.

Relief hit first—fierce, desperate.

She wasn’t dead.

But it was quickly swallowed by something darker.

Guilt. Sharp and unforgiving.

Because while they mourned her—

While they buried her in memory—

She had been living a difficult life in someone else’s family.

...

Lucas staggered back a step, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically process what he’d just heard.

Lara?

Their god sister?

The one who clung to them without hesitation... who trusted them so completely...

Their little sister?

No wonder he felt familiar with her. It was as if something was pulling them together.

A sharp pang of guilt twisted in his chest.

He thought of the way she smiled—so familiar, so natural in their presence.

And suddenly it made sense.

Too much sense.

Lucas swallowed hard. "Thankfully, thankfully she was brought back to us. It must be fate."

...

Liam said nothing.

But his silence spoke the loudest.

He had suspected.

Not fully, not enough to be certain, but there had always been something that didn’t sit right.

The resemblance. The pull. The instinct.

And now that instinct had been confirmed—and it didn’t bring relief.

It brought something far heavier.

Responsibility.

And a quiet, burning anger.

At fate.

At whoever had taken her from them.

At himself—for not realizing sooner.

His fists clenched at his sides.

"We were supposed to protect her," he said finally, his voice low.

Not accusing. Not loud. But heavy with meaning.

...

Leonard let out a broken breath, his hand still gripping the table like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

"She was never dead..." he sighed with relief.

The words felt unreal.

A miracle—and a punishment.

Because if she had been alive all along...

Then he had failed her. Failed to find her. Failed to bring her home.

His vision blurred.

For the first time in years, General Leonard Norse looked less like a decorated officer—and more like a father who had just realized he’d lost, and found, his child all over again.

"And she was here..." he whispered.

His voice broke completely this time.

"With us... "