The General's Daughter: The Mission

Chapter 257: Whose Spying on Who?

Anton casually pulled out his phone, his expression unreadable beneath the dim golden lights of the restaurant.

With practiced ease, he scrolled through his contacts, selected a number, and pressed call.

The line connected almost immediately.

"Check if Larissa Reyes visited Garden Café tonight," he said coldly. "And find out who she met with."

There was no wasted word, no unnecessary explanation.

After giving the order, he ended the call without waiting for a response.

Beside him, Beatrice narrowed her eyes toward the restaurant entrance where Larissa had disappeared moments ago.

She lifted a hand and beckoned a passing waiter.

"You there."

The waiter immediately stopped in his tracks.

"Yes, Ma’am?"

Beatrice tilted her chin elegantly. "The woman who just left the restaurant... she looks like someone my daughter knows. Can you check who she was with?"

The waiter looked visibly confused.

"I’m sorry, Ma’am," he replied respectfully, "but if you could provide more details, I may be able to help."

As he spoke, his gaze briefly flickered toward Anton.

Even with the cap pulled low over his forehead and the dark sunglasses concealing half his face, the man radiated authority. The expensive watch on his wrist alone probably cost more than several years of the waiter’s salary.

The waiter instantly understood—

these were not people he could afford to offend.

"Larissa Reyes," Beatrice said impatiently. "That’s her name."

"Please give me a moment, Ma’am. I’ll check right away."

"There’s no need."

Anton’s deep voice cut through the conversation lazily.

Without looking up, he tapped on his phone a few times.

A second later, Beatrice’s phone vibrated inside her Chanel handbag.

Her eyes lit up as she hurriedly retrieved it.

The moment she opened the message, a photo appeared on the screen.

Larissa Reyes sat across from a middle-aged man inside a private dining booth. Their hands were clasped together across the table, making the scene appear unusually intimate.

Beatrice gasped softly.

"Isn’t this the owner of Starlight Films?"

Excitement sparkled in her eyes almost instantly.

The thought of finally having leverage against Larissa sent a rush of exhilaration through her veins.

"So Larissa failed to seduce Ares..." Beatrice muttered mockingly. "And now she’s trying to climb the social ladder through another man."

Anton finally glanced at her.

His gaze carried unmistakable contempt.

’Idiot.’

Anyone with half a brain could tell the photo was taken mid-negotiation. The clasped hands were clearly part of sealing a business deal.

But Beatrice’s mind only understood scandals and schemes.

She suddenly turned toward Anton, her eyes practically glowing as she looked at him like an obsessed fangirl.

"You’re amazing, Anton," she praised softly. "You got this information so quickly."

Anton leaned lazily against his chair, indifferent to the admiration in her eyes.

"What are you planning to do with the photos?" he asked casually.

Truthfully, whatever chaos Beatrice intended to create had nothing to do with him.

Beatrice slowly smiled as she stared at the image on her screen.

"I’ll keep this as my trump card for now."

Though inwardly, another thought crossed her mind.

She would show these photos to Ares at the perfect moment.

At first, she had considered spreading the images online to create a scandal.

But after thinking about it, she dismissed the idea.

After all—

nobody in high society even knew who Larissa Reyes was yet.

Meanwhile, Lara drove aimlessly through the streets of Calma, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel as street lights blurred past the windows.

She had no destination in mind.

For once, she simply wanted to drive.

The quiet hum of the engine beneath her fingertips felt strangely comforting, almost nostalgic. It made her realize how long it had been since she last enjoyed being behind the wheel.

A lifetime and a year ago.

Then, like a crack splitting through thick fog, a memory suddenly surfaced in her mind.

This time, the face inside that fragmented memory was no longer blurry.

The face of the man she knew was her father.

Artemio Fuegerro.

Lara’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

Back then, she had only been ten years old. Her legs too short to reach the pedals.

Artemio had brought her to one of the old military training camps hidden in the outskirts of the province.

Parked near the barracks was an old run-down jeep covered in dust and mud stains.

It had once been Artemio’s service vehicle during his missions years ago.

He tossed the keys directly at her.

"Get in."

Young Lara had obediently climbed into the driver’s seat, her tiny hands barely able to grip the massive steering wheel.

Artemio stood outside the vehicle, his cold eyes watching her through the open window.

Without patience or warmth, he briefly explained the basics.

"This is the ignition."

"This is the clutch."

"The brake."

"The accelerator."

His deep voice was indifferent, mechanical—like he was briefing a soldier instead of teaching a child.

After demonstrating once, he stepped away from the jeep entirely.

"This afternoon," he said coldly, "you should already be able to show me your progress. Understood?"

Lara straightened instinctively.

"I understand, Dad."

The jeep was manual transmission.

At ten, most girls her age were still obsessed with barbie dolls, idols, or cute clothes.

Meanwhile, she sat alone inside a rusted military jeep, trembling as she tried to learn how to drive.

Lara inserted the key into the ignition without hesitation.

The engine roared to life.

But when her foot hovered over the accelerator, her courage suddenly faltered.

Her palms became slick with sweat. Her breathing turned uneven.

She froze.

Thirty minutes passed. Then another ten.

Yet the jeep had not moved an inch.

Panic slowly crawled into her chest. She only had an hour and a half left before Artemio returned.

Lara bit her lip hard.

If she failed...would her father whip her again with his belt?

The thought alone sent fear rushing through her small body. She quickly tightened her seatbelt, her tiny fingers trembling.

Then she shifted the gear stick into first gear and cautiously pressed the accelerator.

The jeep lurched forward violently.

Its entire body shook before the engine abruptly died.

Silence.

Lara released a shaky breath, frustration and fear burning behind her eyes.

She restarted the engine again.

This time, just as she was about to step on the accelerator—

the passenger door suddenly opened.

A young man casually slid into the seat beside her and buckled his seatbelt as if he belonged there.

Lara immediately turned toward him in alarm.

"Who are you?" she demanded warily. "What are you doing here?"

The young man leaned back lazily, a playful smile appearing on his handsome face.

"Today," he said lightly, "just think of me as your driving instructor."

Then he turned toward her and smiled wider.

"By the way, my name is..."