The day finally came
General Alessandro D'Este returned without ceremony.
No parade.
No warning.
One day the house simply changed—guards straighter, footsteps quieter, the air heavier with authority.
Otilla felt it before she saw him.
Her father stood in the study, coat still on, gloves laid carefully on the desk. Age had sharpened him rather than softened him. His presence bent the room around him.
She didn't greet him.
She exploded.
"He's gone too far," Otilla said, pacing. "Xavier Hernandez has been abusing his position."
The General looked up slowly. "Abusing how?"
"He's been diverting resources," she replied smoothly. "Using his salary to influence civilians. Interfering with private affairs. The Rossi family—"
The name earned her father's full attention.
"They're beneath notice," Otilla continued, voice trembling with rehearsed outrage. "But he's become… emotionally compromised. Disloyal."
She stopped pacing and faced him, eyes bright.
"He chose them over us."
The General leaned back in his chair.
Silence.
A long one.
Then—"Is that all?"
Otilla blinked. "What?"
"You've described sentiment," he said calmly. "Not treason."
Her jaw tightened. "Father—"
"He paid bills," Alessandro continued. "Sent a boy back to school. Helped a sick man."
Otilla stiffened.
"How do you—"
"I asked questions," he cut in. "Quietly. Like a commander should."
She clenched her fists. "Then you know he disobeyed me."
Alessandro's eyes hardened.
"That," he said evenly, "is not a crime."
Otilla stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"He's in love with her."
That landed.
Not like a bomb.
Like a blade.
The General exhaled slowly. "So that's what this is."
"It compromises him," she insisted. "He's weak."
Alessandro stood.
In an instant, the room belonged to him again.
"Weak men don't produce the records he has," he said coldly. "Weak men don't survive the operations he survived."
He turned to her.
"Xavier Hernandez is the best soldier of his generation."
Otilla's lips parted. "Then terminate him."
Alessandro laughed once.
A sound without humor.
"You don't discard a blade because it cuts where you didn't expect."
She stared at him, disbelief cracking her composure.
"So you'll do nothing?"
"I'll do what's rational," he replied. "I'll watch."
Otilla felt something unfamiliar then.
Not rage.
Not fear.
Powerlessness.
"He humiliated me," she said quietly.
"No," her father corrected. "You overplayed your hand."
She swallowed.
"You cannot touch him," Alessandro added. "Not directly. Not now."
He paused at the door.
"But remember this, Otilla—"
He looked back at her, eyes sharp as steel.
"The more exceptional a man is, the more enemies he collects."
Then he left.
Otilla stood alone in the study, nails digging into her palms.
Xavier was protected.
Not by her.
Not by kindness.
But by excellence.
She laughed softly.
"So that's how it is," she murmured.
If she couldn't break him—
She would break everything he loved.
And this time, she wouldn't ask permission.