THE LAST WAR GENERAL

Blood Ties

After Webb left, his men escorted Dominic to one of Thornfield’s most exclusive estates in the Westbrook Hills district. The villa was all marble and chandeliers, the kind of place he would have inherited if his life had gone differently. He barely noticed any of it.

Webb returned within the hour, carrying a tablet. “My Lord, I have the information you requested on Lila Hart.”

Dominic’s chest tightened at the name. Lila Hart. The woman his family had arranged for him to marry five years ago. The woman whose wedding night had been destroyed when her new husband was dragged away in handcuffs, accused of assaulting his stepmother. He’d carried guilt about her ever since, though he barely knew her—just a girl from a third-tier family the Kanes had deemed acceptable. After his imprisonment, he’d never seen her again. Making amends to her was one of his reasons for returning.

“Tell me,” Dominic said quietly.

Webb’s expression was grim. “After the scandal, her family expelled her. Called her a disgrace. They’ve been living on the edge ever since. Hart Construction, their only source of income, is on the verge of bankruptcy.” He paused. “Her father was arrested eight months ago for embezzling company funds. The charges seem fabricated. I have people investigating.”

Dominic’s hands curled into fists.

“There’s more,” Webb continued. “Her daughter is seriously ill with leukemia. The family couldn’t afford treatment, so the hospital discharged her two weeks ago.”

“Her daughter.” Dominic assumed Lila had remarried after the scandal.

Webb met his eyes. “My Lord, I verified the records. The child is yours.”

The world stopped.

Dominic’s mind raced back to that wedding night. He’d been drugged, burning with fever. He remembered soft hands trying to ease his pain, a woman’s gentle voice. But when he woke, he’d been in Vivienne’s bed with his uncle’s men dragging him away. He’d thought the memory was a hallucination.

It had been real. It had been Lila.

“I have a daughter,” he whispered.

“Yes, sir. Emma. Four years old.”

Four years this child had existed while he fought wars, never knowing. Four years Lila had raised their daughter alone, cast out and branded as the wife of a criminal.

“Where are they?”

Webb gave him an address on the east side—the broken streetlight part of town where buildings sagged and hope went to die.

“Prepare the car,” Dominic ordered. “Now.”

The house looked ready to collapse. Paint peeled from rotting wood, one window covered with cardboard. Inside, Lila Hart sat at a battered kitchen table under a flickering bulb, sorting through medical bills with quiet desperation.

She should have been in her prime at twenty-seven. Instead, exhaustion had carved lines into her face that made her look older. Her hands were rough from work, nails broken.

On a worn couch, a small girl with dark hair took pills from a bottle, grimacing at the bitter taste. Emma. Too thin, too pale.

“Sweetheart, you need your medicine,” Lila said gently.

“Mama, I don’t need it anymore.” Emma’s voice was small but determined. “We should save the money. I heard Grandma say it’s too expensive.”

Lila crossed the room and pulled her daughter into her arms, tears falling. “You’re going to get better, baby. I promise.”

An older woman emerged from the back room—Margaret, Lila’s mother. “Lila, you need to be practical. Derek Ashford is wealthy, influential. If you married him, he could save the company and pay for Emma’s treatment.”

“No.” Lila’s voice was firm.

“We wouldn’t have to live like this!”

“I said no, Mother. I’ll recover the debts from Meridian Global. The Westbrook project they owe us for—that’s enough to save the company and treat Emma. I’m not marrying anyone.”

Before Margaret could respond, the front door burst open.

A man strode in—tall, muscular, cruel-faced. Six men followed him. “Evening, Mrs. Hart. Name’s Cole Barrett. I’m here about thirty thousand in unpaid construction fees your company owes.”

Lila stood, positioning herself between the men and her daughter. “We paid that invoice six weeks ago. I have bank records—”

“Records can be faked. You owe, and I’m here to collect.” Cole’s eyes swept the sparse room. “Though I don’t see much worth taking.”

“There must be a mistake—”

“Oh, I checked. You owe, and—”

“Gentlemen, is there a problem?”

Everyone turned. A younger man in an expensive suit stood in the doorway. Derek Ashford, heir to Ashford Industries.

Cole’s posture shifted immediately. “Mr. Ashford. I didn’t realize you were involved here.”

“Mrs. Hart is a friend,” Derek said smoothly. “Any debts can be worked out. Thirty thousand? Consider it paid. I’ll transfer the funds tonight.”

Cole hesitated, then nodded. “Very generous, Mr. Ashford. My apologies for the disturbance.” He and his men left.

Margaret beamed. “Mr. Ashford, thank you! We can’t repay such kindness—”

“Think nothing of it.” Derek smiled at Lila with apparent concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Lila said carefully. Something felt wrong. Cole’s arrival and Derek’s perfectly timed appearance—too convenient.

“I’m glad.” Derek glanced at Emma. “How is she?”

“Managing.”

“Lila, please,” Margaret interjected. “Mr. Ashford has been so kind—”

“Thank you for your help,” Lila cut in, polite but final. “But it’s late, and Emma needs rest.”

Derek’s smile didn’t waver, but annoyance flickered in his eyes. “Of course. If you need anything, call me.” He handed her a card and left.

Margaret turned on her daughter. “He just saved us thirty thousand dollars and you threw him out!”

“Something’s not right, Mother. Why would someone like Derek Ashford care about us?”

She didn’t have an answer, but her instincts screamed warnings.

Three blocks away, Derek pulled over. Cole Barrett slipped into the passenger seat.

“Took you long enough,” Derek said coldly.

“Sorry, boss.”

Derek handed him an envelope of cash. “That’s for tonight. But we’re escalating. The bitch is suspicious.”

“What do you want?”

“Go back tonight. Take the kid. I’ll find her tomorrow, play hero again. Lila will be so desperate she’ll have no choice but to marry me.” His smile was ice. “And once we’re married, accidents happen. The kid won’t need treatment much longer.”

Cole whistled. “Cold.”

“That’s business. Double your f*e. Just don’t hurt her too badly—I need Lila functional for the wedding.”

At 2 AM, Lila woke to her door crashing open.

Cole Barrett and four men rushed in. One headed straight for Emma’s couch.

“NO!” Lila threw herself between them and her daughter.

Emma woke screaming.

Lila fought desperately as rough hands tried to pry Emma away. She managed to grab her daughter and hold tight, but there were too many.

Cole grabbed Lila by the hair and yanked her back. She lost her grip, and another man scooped up the crying child.

“NO! PLEASE! SHE’S SICK—”

Lila lunged forward, grabbing Cole’s leg with everything she had.

“Fucking bitch.” Cole kicked her in the ribs. Once. Twice. She tasted blood but didn’t let go.

“Boss, she won’t let up—”

“Make her.” Cole kicked her face. Something broke in her nose.

Through blood and pain, she heard Emma screaming. “Mama! MAMA!”

One of the men laughed. “Her nightgown’s torn—”

“Forget it,” Cole snapped. “Get the kid, get paid. After Ashford’s done with her, you can have your fun.” He brought his boot down on Lila’s arm.

The bone snapped.

Lila’s scream echoed as her grip loosened. Cole shoved her away, and she collapsed, cradling her broken arm.

“Emma,” she sobbed. “Emma—”

Cole carried the struggling child toward the door. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Hart. Mr. Ashford will take good care of you both.”

They were gone. Lila tried to stand and collapsed. Everything hurt—blood from her nose, her mouth, her arm bent wrong.

But none of that mattered. They had Emma.

Darkness took her.

Fifteen miles away, Dominic’s phone buzzed. One of his surveillance operatives, voice trembling. “My Lord—your daughter, she’s been taken, some men broke into the house, they hurt Mrs. Hart—”

The temperature dropped to arctic.

“Where?” Dominic’s voice was barely human.

“A black van headed east, license Charlie-Delta-7-4-9—”

“Send the coordinates, now.”

He looked at Webb. “How fast can this go?”

“Fast enough, my Lord.”

“Then drive. Call every unit we have. I want that van found.” His voice went cold and final. “And whoever took my daughter, I want them alive. What I’m going to do to them, death would be mercy.”

The engine roared as they accelerated into the night.