Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 140: Family Time

Chapter 140: Family Time

Briella’s gaze lingered on Bener, her eyes narrowing as she studied him beneath the golden morning light. The sunlight bathed his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the curve of his cheekbones.

The sun’s rays danced across his unruly hair and caught in the playful glimmer of his eyes, lending him a boyish charm that contrasted with the strength in his stance. In the daylight, he seemed even more captivating—confident yet approachable. Each subtle shift of expression only deepened the impression that he was someone impossible to ignore.

"My name is Bener," he said, his voice low and inviting, each syllable rolling off his tongue with an easy warmth. As he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, making his already striking features even more disarming.

"Bella," she whispered, her voice as soft as a breeze. Her long lashes fluttered downward, casting delicate shadows across her face. There was a shyness to her posture, a soft, practiced demureness that made her seem fragile. The pink flush on her cheeks deepened as she lowered her gaze, the corners of her mouth curving ever so slightly.

Behind them, four pairs of eyes rolled in unison.

Bella? Lara’s brow arched. Wasn’t her name Briella? The sudden shift in identity sent warning bells ringing in her mind. Why the deception?

Letting out a quiet, exasperated sigh, Lara tugged on Gideon’s sleeve as they walked away, her voice slightly irritated. "Does he always behave this foolishly around women?"

Bener was still fumbling for words, his usual confidence unraveling like a loose thread in the presence of a pretty face.

"Half the time," Gideon replied dryly, not even bothering to look back.

As they made their way toward the mayor’s mansion, Lara’s thoughts churned. Chest pain... Her mind drifted back to the night before — the flicker of pain across General Odin’s face, his hand gripping the edge of the table as though the world had tilted beneath him. Was she the cause of his distress? Had her presence shaken him enough to stir his heart into disarray? The thought gnawed at her.

As they approached the mansion, its imposing silhouette outlined against the morning sky, Lara’s heart raced with anticipation. Stepping through the gate, she was taken aback by the sight before her.

What a beautiful mansion. It looked completely different at night. She did not expect that such opulence existed in that era.

Inside the dining hall, the long table stretched across the room, the polished wood gleaming under the soft golden light pouring through the high windows. Seated at its head was Prince Alaric, his presence commanding as ever, though a hint of weariness clung to his features. At his right sat Odin, his gaze dark and unreadable, while Alaric leaned back in his chair, his usual air of quiet calculation giving the room a sense of stillness.

"You are here." Odin rose to his seat, stepped forward, and ruffled Lara’s hair. "I am sorry for last night. I hope these brats have gotten your forgiveness." General Odin’s voice was very gentle.

Her breath caught, and her eyes burned with a sudden, unexpected sting. She blinked rapidly, banishing the moisture before it could fall. A father apologizing to his child... The notion felt foreign, almost absurd.

In her past life, her father had been a man of unyielding pride. Even when he was wrong, he had been right. Apologies had never crossed his lips. It had always been her who whispered apologies, even when she had done nothing wrong.

"What’s wrong, Sis?" Asael’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. He was at her side in an instant, his brow creased with concern.

"Nothing. I think dirt got into my eyes," she replied with a casual shrug, her voice flat and unfazed. As she spoke, her fingers moved to her eyes, gently sweeping away the remnants of tears that had begun to glisten like tiny jewels on her lashes.

"Don’t rub it; that will only make it worse," Asael urged gently, his voice soothing like a soft breeze. He took her hands in his, their warmth enveloping her like a comforting embrace. Leaning closer, he cupped her face and blew softly on her eyes, the cool air brushing her skin and creating tingles.

The gesture was so natural, so familiar, that it left her frozen in place. It was the kind of tenderness that came from years of shared memories — a familiarity she didn’t possess. Every muscle in her body tensed, her heart pounding like a war drum. The urge to shove him away surged through her, hot and fierce, but she fought it down.

"Is that better?" Asael asked, stepping back with a satisfied grin. "You always asked me to do that when something got in your eyes."

Lara’s lips parted, but no words came. Never mind. Just forget about it. Instead, she shifted her gaze, searching for an escape. Her eyes landed on Alaric, who sat silently across the room, his expression shadowed.

"Why don’t we all sit and eat?" Alaric said coolly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "I’m starving."

The servants moved swiftly, taking their places along the walls, ready to serve the prince and the general’s family. As the meal began, General Odin’s voice carried through the hall.

"We will return to the Capital in three days." General Odin started. "Come with us, Lara. Your mother missed you so much. She’ll be overjoyed to see you." Odin announced in the dining room.

Lara’s spoon paused mid-air, her chest tightening. Slowly, she turned to meet Odin’s gaze, her expression troubled.

"I’m sorry, Father," she said quietly, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. "I have matters to attend to. I can’t go back with you."

A smile blossomed on General Odin’s face. His daughter called him Father. However, he frowned when he heard the second part of her sentence.

"What matters do you need to attend to? Your brother, Galahad, can handle it for you."

"There’s no need," Lara replied softly, lowering her gaze. "I can handle it myself... Father."

The word slipped from her lips once more, each syllable awkward and unfamiliar. Yet Odin’s heart swelled with warmth. His daughter — his precious little girl — had called him Father. It seemed like a eternity when he last heard the word.

As the conversation drifted on, Lara’s mind remained elsewhere. The weight of her past, her secrets, and the family she barely recognized pressed down on her like a heavy cloak. She glanced across the table once more, catching Alaric’s dark gaze.

And though no words passed between them, she felt the weight of his thoughts as keenly as if they had been spoken aloud.