The General's Daughter: The Mission Chapter 5: The Tempting Offer

"Shay likes you very much," he said at last, breaking the silence. His voice was asured, but there was sothing careful beneath it, as though he were weighing each word before letting it fall. "If you don’t already have plans... would you consider becoming her governess?"

He lingered deliberately on the word.

Not a nanny. A governess.

The distinction was intentional.

Lara’s brows drew together, confusion and disbelief crossing her face.

"A governess?" she asked quietly. "Do you know what you’re asking, Sir?"

"Ares," he corrected, not sharply, but with an ease that carried quiet command. "Just call Ares."

She hesitated, testing the na on her tongue, then gave a small nod. "Ares... I lost my mory. There are many things I no longer know."

His gaze never left her. "Do you know what a governess is?"

Her breath caught.

For a heartbeat, the world tilted—and then sothing pierced the haze in her mind, sudden and bright. Not a mory in full, but fragnts sharp enough to grasp.

Won standing in disciplined rows, with straight backs and steady eyes. She was speaking—correcting posture, refining diction, drilling principles of conduct and intellect — not rely lessons, but formation. She had trained them to beco live-in educators and moral guides for the children of nobility, shaping minds, manners, and futures alike.

A na surfaced, faint but unmistakable.

Gabriella Guild.

Her fingers curled slightly at her side.

"Yes," she said at last, slowly, as if anchoring herself to the truth of it. "I know."

Then her expression softened, doubt seeping in. "But in my current state, I may be lacking." She lifted her arms, thin and pale, the fragile lines of her wrists exposed. "Look at . My body is frail. Your daughter would surely not like ."

Ares’ eyes flickered. He wanted to say sothing about Shay, but in the end, he kept it to himself.

"I don’t think Shay would mind." He said thoughtfully, the image of how Shay had clung to her earlier—how the child had laughed, kissed her cheek, and wrapped small arms around her neck without hesitation —how she had called her Mommy — appeared in his mind.

Lara’s eyes sharpened. "Where is her mother?" she asked. "Do I resemble her? Is that why Shay mistook for her?"

There was urgency now, questions pressing forward as if they had been waiting for permission to surface. "She told my na was Moira Torres. I assud... perhaps we look alike."

"Her mother left," Ares replied, his tone abruptly cold. "She has another family."

The finality of it closed the subject. Lara heard it clearly—and respected it.

"I see."

She lifted her gaze and t his eyes fully. Not timidly, not apologetically, but directly.

The intensity of it unsettled him. She was so bold. No man or woman had ever dared to look at him that way, as though he were not an untouchable figure but simply another person standing before them.

"Ares," she said, her voice steady, "what you suggested earlier... I may not be up to it. At least not now. I don’t believe I would make a good governess in my current condition. Wouldn’t that be unfair to Shay?"

He studied her for a long mont, then nodded once. "I admire your honesty, Miss Reyes." He reached for a folder and handed it to her. "For now, you would only accompany Shay. Take her to school. Pick her up. Spend ti with her. When your mories return—if they return—you can teach her properly."

As he spoke, Xander’s report surfaced unbidden in his mind. She was a top student with exceptional scores, even though she studied at a public school with limited ans, yet she consistently achieved outstanding results.

Lara accepted the papers, her fingers brushing his briefly—a fleeting contact, but one that sent an unexpected awareness through him.

"I’ll think about it," she said.

Then she rose smoothly to her feet. No hesitation. No weakness in the motion.

"If you don’t mind," she added, composed and distant now, "I’d like to rest."

Ares stood as well, montarily caught off guard—then faintly irritated.

The woman before him looked fragile, almost breakable. And yet she had dismissed him with the quiet authority of soone long accustod to command.

"Of course," he said at last. "I won’t impose further. I hope to hear your answer tomorrow."

As he turned to leave, he felt it again—that unsettling pull in his chest.

This woman was not as fragile as she appeared.

And sothing told him... letting her walk into Shay’s life would change everything.

He paused at the door, one hand resting against the fra, as though a thought had caught him by the sleeve. He turned back, studying her with a new intensity—no longer polite, but searching.

"By the way... do you know how to read?" he asked.

The question lingered between them, clumsy in its honesty. He frowned almost imdiately. "I an," he added, lowering his voice, "you’ve forgotten so many things. I wondered if that might be one of them, too."

Lara dropped her gaze to the docunt in her hand.

The paper felt heavier than it should have been, as though it carried more than ink and signatures—as though it demanded sothing from her she wasn’t sure she could give. The lines of text swam before her eyes, breaking apart into aningless strokes. Her chest tightened. For a mont, panic stirred—sharp and disorienting. She felt an uneasy sense of standing before a locked door without knowing whether she’d ever held the key.

She forced herself to keep looking.

Gradually, the disorder eased. Letters stilled. Shapes aligned. Sounds whispered into her mind, hesitant at first, then steady. aning followed, not dragged forth by effort but rising naturally, as if summoned by an instinct older than mory itself.

It wasn’t learning. It was rembering.

Relief flashed across Ares’s face—quick, controlled.

"Good!" Ares replied. "I will co again tomorrow, and I hope I can have your answer. If you are not satisfied with the salary, it is still negotiable."

He turned to leave.

The man was already gone when sothing on the page caught Lara’s attention.

A na.

But it was not hers. Was it a mistake?

Her heartbeat spiked.

Before she could stop herself, the word slipped past her lips, barely more than a whisper—but sharp enough to cut through the quiet.

"Why does this docunt list Lara Reyes?"

Lara.

And in that instant, she knew—with a certainty that made her hands tremble—that this was not a na she had read.

It was a na she had once been.