Exiled Son-In-Law, Supreme General

Chapter 4

The conference room was nothing like the sterile cells Maxwell had left behind, it was another world entirely. 

The walls were paneled in dark oak polished to a mirror shine, and a wide table of tempered glass gleamed under recessed lights. A faint hum of hidden projectors filled the silence.

As the holographic projector flickered to life, figures materialized one by one, their crisp uniforms and polished medals catching phantom light. 

The President stood at the head of the group, his broad shoulders squared, the weight of a nation in his eyes. “General Maxwell Liang,” he began, his deep voice resonating through the room. “On behalf of the Republic, we thank you.”

Around the table, senior officials saluted as one. Even in holographic form, their movements were precise, a choreography of respect that cut through the air like a blade.

Maxwell stood tall, shoulders relaxed but unyielding, the orange of his former prison uniform exchanged for a tailored black suit, borrowed from a wardrobe kept ready for his covert operations. 

He looked every inch the warrior they revered, though a flicker of bitterness lingered beneath his calm exterior. “I only did what was required,” he said quietly.

“Required?” The silver-haired general to the President’s right gave a dry, incredulous laugh. “Few men could do what you’ve done. Fewer still would survive it.”

The President’s gaze softened. “For your years of unyielding service, we award you the rank of Five-Star General.”

A small case appeared on the table via a discreet compartment. Inside lay the five-star insignia, polished to a brilliant sheen, a symbol of ultimate authority. 

The room seemed to hold its breath as Maxwell took it. For a brief, silent moment, the world acknowledged him not as a criminal, not as a son-in-law dismissed as useless, but as the man who had saved them all.

His fingers closed around the insignia. He felt the weight of the stars, of promises kept, of lives lost. “I thought,” he said finally, his voice rougher now, “that this might mean I could retire quietly.”

The President dismissed the others with a single glance. The holograms winked out one by one, leaving only the two of them bathed in the projector’s pale glow. The room felt suddenly smaller, the stakes infinitely larger.

“You know I wouldn’t call you back without cause,” the President said. His tone was no longer ceremonial, it was heavy, personal. 

He slid a sealed dossier across the table. Its contents glimmered under a security seal, encrypted and unyielding.

“This mission…” The President hesitated, his brows furrowed. “I can’t tell you everything yet. It’s too dangerous, even for you. But what I can tell you is this, it touches the very heart of our stability. And…” His eyes flickered, an uncharacteristic shadow of concern crossing his face. “It will bring you close to people you know.”

Maxwell accepted the file without hesitation. “Understood.”

The President exhaled, a sound that was almost a sigh. “You have full clearance. Mobilize whatever resources you need. No restrictions.”

Maxwell nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll see it done.”

The hologram flickered, then vanished, plunging the room into a silence that felt heavier than any battlefield he had ever walked.

Outside, the night had deepened. The storm that had followed him out of prison had moved on, leaving the streets washed clean, the city lights reflecting in shallow puddles. 

Maxwell walked alone through a service corridor to avoid attention, the sealed file tucked under his arm.

His steps echoed against the polished concrete. Every sound seemed sharper now, the distant hum of traffic, the whisper of wind slipping through gaps in the building’s façade.

For a fleeting moment, his thoughts returned to Lisa. Her face as she turned away haunted him more than the mission’s unknown dangers. 

He had accepted her anger, even her scorn, but her disbelief, that was the wound that cut deepest.

Duty came first. It always had. But the ache in his chest reminded him that duty had a cost. A shout broke the quiet. “Maxwell!”

Before he could turn, something soft and warm slammed into him. Feng Victoria, again, impossibly radiant, wrapped her arms around him in a fierce, unrestrained hug. 

Her long curls spilled over his shoulder, the faint scent of roses and rain clinging to her hair.

“Do you ever take the front door like a normal person?” he asked dryly, even as his hands instinctively steadied her.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Not when it comes to you.”

Two uniformed guards skidded to a halt behind her, bowing in apology. “General Maxwell Liang, we’re terribly sorry.”

Maxwell waved them off. “It’s fine.”

Victoria ignored the interruption completely. “You’re free, promoted, and… apparently impossible to pin down.” She stepped back, her crimson dress catching the light like fire. “So? Where are we celebrating?”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said.

She tilted her head, pretending to pout. “Then I’ll just follow you everywhere until you give in.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. Despite himself, a faint smile formed. “You’re impossible.”

“Only for you,” she replied brightly, looping her arm through his.

The conference room had emptied, leaving only the faint hum of the holographic projector cooling down. 

Maxwell Liang stood at attention, the weight of the Five-Star insignia on his uniform heavier than any chain he had worn in prison. 

The President had dismissed the others, but the old man lingered at the far end of the polished table, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed at the sprawling night skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“General Maxwell Liang,” the President’s voice was low, almost casual, too casual. “You’ve always understood that the brightest victories cast the darkest shadows.” He turned slowly, and under the harsh white lights, his eyes were razor-sharp. “This mission… it is not simply about uncovering corruption. It is about the soul of the nation. There are hands moving pieces on this board that even I cannot see.”

Maxwell inclined his head, masking the storm of questions rising inside him. “I will execute the mission, sir. Failure is not an option.”

The President’s lips curled into a faint, weary smile. “That’s why you’re the only one I can trust.” He stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “But trust, General, is the first thing your enemies will poison. Be ready.”

Maxwell’s fingers curled at his sides. “Understood.”

The President gave a single nod, then left through a side door without another word. The room suddenly felt too large, too quiet. 

Maxwell stood alone for a long moment, his jaw tightening as the city lights shimmered below like a field of fragile stars.

Outside the compound, the cold night wind bit at his skin. A black car waited at the curb, its engine a low purr. 

He slid into the driver’s seat, but as he reached for the ignition, his phone buzzed. A message flashed across the screen, encrypted, no sender. “Trust no one. Even the walls have ears.”

For the first time in years, a sliver of unease pricked at him. He erased the message immediately, but its warning burned in his mind like a brand.

Across the city, Lisa sat in her office at Yaolin Group headquarters, the divorce papers still lying unopened on her desk. 

The building was silent except for the distant hum of servers and the occasional creak of the cooling structure. Outside her panoramic windows, the city glittered, unfeeling, impersonal.

She had told herself she wouldn’t think of him tonight. But her mother’s earlier call, so full of spite and smug certainty, kept replaying in her mind. “He’s already found another woman, Lisa. The ink isn’t even dry on your divorce.”

She pressed a hand to her chest, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Logic whispered that her mother could be exaggerating, twisting facts to serve her own pride. 

But a single image, Maxwell’s bitter smile when he signed those papers, slipped through her defenses, and something deep inside her twisted.

Her secretary, Valerie, hovered in the doorway. “President Jiang, it’s late. You’ve been staring at those papers for an hour.”

Lisa didn’t look up. “Is it a weakness to wonder if I made a mistake?”