Chapter 210: The Father’s Anguish

[Flashback]

Rain poured relentlessly from the night sky, soaking through Leonard’s uniform as if trying to drag him under with it.

“Search again!” he roared, his voice raw, breaking through the storm. “No one leaves until we find her!”

“Sir, we’ve covered the entire area—”

“THEN YOU SEARCH IT AGAIN!”

The soldiers froze.

They had never seen him like this.

Not on the battlefield.

Not under enemy fire.

But here—

A broken man standing in the mud, clutching a tiny, blood-stained shoe in his hand.

Lara’s shoe. So small. So impossibly small.

“She’s out there…” he muttered, shaking his head, rain streaming down his face—though it was no longer clear what was rain and what wasn’t.

“She’s scared of thunder… she must be crying… and looking for her mom.”

His voice cracked.

And then, quieter—

“She’s waiting for me…”

Hours passed. Then days.

Search parties expanded. Forests were combed. Rivers dragged. Every lead chased until it bled dry.

Leonard didn’t sleep.

Didn’t eat. Didn’t stop.

“Major… we found something.”

Hope ignited—violent, desperate.

He ran. Not walked. Ran like a man chasing life itself.

But what they showed him—

Was not his daughter. Just another dead end. Another cruel reminder.

Another piece of the world telling him:

You were too late.

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks into silence.

And eventually—

Even the reports stopped coming.

There was no body. No trace. Nothing at all.

The worst kind of loss.

The kind that doesn’t end.

…

Leonard stood alone in Lara’s empty room.

Her toys untouched. Her bed was still made. Not a crease out of place. As if she had just been lifted from it—and might be returned at any moment.

Leonard stood there, unmoving.

His gaze drifted slowly to the wall.

Photographs. Dozens of them.

From Lara’s first month… to her first year.

A timeline of a life that had simply stopped.

He stepped closer. His fingers hovered over one frame but never touched it.

A toothless smile. Bright. Carefree. Entirely unaware of the world.

His throat tightened.

Next to it was another photo.

Lara, a few months older, grinning wider—two tiny milk teeth peeking through.

She looked… so alive. So present. As if she might laugh again at any second.

The room hadn’t changed. Not a single thing. Every toy. every blanket, every memory— was preserved.

Waiting.

For someone who was never coming back.

A sharp breath escaped him. And suddenly, he couldn’t stand anymore.

He sank to his knees, like something inside him had finally given way.

For the first time in his life, Major Leonard Norse broke.

Not as a soldier. Not as a commander. But as a father who had lost his child and could not bring her back.

“How…” His voice cracked, barely forming the word.

How was he supposed to face them? His wife. His sons.

How could he stand in front of them and admit—

He had failed?

His hands clenched against the floor.

That officer—

That damn officer.

On the surface, he had seemed ordinary. Unremarkable. Easy to track.

And yet—

He had vanished without a trail.

As if he had never existed at all.

Leonard had thrown everything at the search.

His authority. His connections. His father’s influence.

Even Alexander Zuvel had mobilized resources—men, networks, intelligence channels that could dig ghosts out of the ground.

And still— nothing!

It didn’t make sense. It was impossible.

Unless…

his breath stilled.

Unless the man was never acting alone.

Unless someone… far bigger… had erased him.

A cold realization crept in, slow and suffocating.

“This wasn’t random…” he whispered.

His gaze lifted, hollow and shaken.

“Who would go this far… for a child?”

The question lingered but the answer came uninvited.

Not for the child.

For him.

Or worse—

For his family.

His jaw tightened, something darker beginning to form beneath the grief.

“Were they after my father…?”

Or—

His eyes hardened, dread settling deeper.

“Were they sending a message to me?”

[End of Flashback]

Logan kept talking and demanding, but Leonard Norse no longer heard a single word.

The noise faded.

All that remained was one sharp and blinding thought:

Lara is alive.

Larissa Reyes. If that identity was real—if it could be traced—then this wasn’t over.

It was starting again. His jaw tightened.

He had searched once and failed. He would not fail a second time.

Her adoptive parents.

That was the first thread.

And this time—

He would pull until everything unraveled.

“This is not simple,” Leonard said at last, his voice steady—too steady.

The kind of calm that didn’t soothe, but warned.

“From this point forward, we proceed carefully.”

He turned to them, his gaze sharp, commanding.

“Not a word of this leaves this room. Not to anyone.”

A pause.

“Not even your mother.”

The words landed heavily.

Lucas frowned immediately, stepping forward. “Dad… don’t you think that’s unfair?” he said, his tone measured but firm. “Mom has mourned Lara for years. If she finds out Lara is alive—”

His voice softened.

“She deserves to know. She’ll be happy.”

Leonard didn’t respond right away.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—pain, buried deep and quickly suppressed.

But when he spoke again, it was gone.

Replaced by steel.

“I am now convinced,” he continued, each word deliberate, “that Lara’s vehicle colliding with ours was not an accident.”

Liam and Logan exchanged a look.

And in that silent exchange—they understood.

Leonard clasped his hands behind his back, the posture instinctive—military, controlled.

A beat passed.

“It was planned.”

The room went still.

Leonard’s mind had already moved ahead—connecting angles, probabilities, intent.

“Someone knew,” he went on. “Our movements. Our timing. Enough to stage that encounter.”

Liam nodded slowly, his expression darkening as the implications settled in.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he said. “There are too many variables lining up too cleanly. That wasn’t coincidence.”

His gaze sharpened.

“It was precision.”

Logan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, agitation returning—but now it carried something heavier. Fear.

“But Lara was in that car,” he said, his voice rough. “She could’ve died.”

That didn’t sound like strategy.

That sounded personal.

Leonard’s eyes flickered.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

And that was the problem.

If she had been part of the plan—

She wouldn’t have been put at that level of risk.

Unless—

“Unless there was another variable,” Liam said, voicing the thought before it fully formed.

All eyes turned to him.

He continued, more certain now.

“Asher’s escort vehicle,” he said. “It was arranged last minute, wasn’t it?”

Leonard gave a slight nod.

Liam’s expression hardened.

“Then that changes everything,” he said. “If the plan was set before that adjustment… then Lara’s presence may have been intended, not a variable.”

Logan stilled.

The weight of that sank in differently.

“So what are you saying?” he asked slowly. “That she just… got caught in it?”

Liam didn’t answer immediately.

Because none of the possibilities were good.

Leonard finally spoke, his voice quieter now—but far more dangerous.

“It means,” he said, “whoever orchestrated this… was aiming for us.”

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