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Cypress, a fortress of silence regarding our destination, merely offers me a reassuring smile. The fact that we evaded my father's men still astounds me. Ritchie claims to have neutralized all the surveillance cameras with his unparalleled skills. This feat sounds almost too good to be true.
My thoughts scatter as Cypress interrupts, her attention glued to her phone. "It seems someone was found dead at your house," she reveals, her words sinking like stones in my stomach. That explains the screams, the insanity we fled from.
I fix my gaze on her, seeking clarity in the storm. "What do you mean, someone was found dead? Who? Did you two have a hand in this?" The accusation hangs between us, heavy and unwelcome.
Her reaction is swift, a mix of shock and indignation. "No! What is wrong with you? We wouldn't kill anyone. Yes, we planned your escape, but never intended to harm anyone." Her words, sharp with rebuke, cut through me.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," I stammer, regret lacing my tone. I've hurt her and questioned her integrity, and for what? Fear?
Cypress softens, her anger dissipating as quickly as it arrived. "No, you have nothing to apologize for. I'd probably think the same in your shoes." She returns her gaze to her phone, a sigh escaping her. "We'll find out soon enough who it was."
Her following words strike a chord deep within me. "As your best friend, I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. I wasn't going to let your father marry you off to that monster. What on God's green earth is he thinking? You're his only daughter, not some pawn in his business!"
Tears find their way down my cheeks, unbidden yet unmistakably genuine. The stark contrast between the family I was born into and the family I chose—a friend who sees me as a person, not a commodity—breaks me. Cypress's actions, driven by empathy and courage, highlight the absence of those very traits in my own family. It's a painful realization, yet I find a strength I didn't know I possessed in this moment of vulnerability. The road ahead may be uncertain, but with friends like Cypress and Ritchie, perhaps there's hope for a future where I'm not just a piece in someone else's game.
Chapter One
Marco
The dim light of Hacienda la Luz casts long, haunting shadows, turning the familiar into a stage set for a grim opera. The evening buzzes with an undercurrent of strain, as if the hacienda braces for the darkness. The grandeur of the dinner table fails to overpower the secrets it's witnessed, steeped in the lore of a family balancing tradition with the brutal realities of an unconventional life.
Papá rules with a quiet, deadly grace at the head of the table. His eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over us—not out of familial pride but as a general surveying his troops before a battle. Gabriel, the supposed paragon, wears his strength like a suit of armor, sitting next to Bella, her elegance only a veneer for the steel underneath. Diego, with Inés at his side, plays the part of a loving husband and doting new father. Still, there's a predatory edge to him, a Cervantes trademark.
The room hums with the quiet efficiency of our staff, the unsung heroes of these gatherings, their faces masks of servitude that hide a deep understanding of our feral family dynamics. As they move about the room, serving and clearing, I can't shake off the unease crawling up my spine. I'm Marco Cervantes, the prodigal son, back from the dead. Tonight, I dine with my family. Tomorrow, I dive headfirst into the underworld, haunted by demons of my past, walking a tightrope between duty and survival.
"En este lugar siempre me siento como en casa," Bella remarks, her smile touching her eyes as she looks around Hacienda la Luz.
"Es el amor que lo llena," Papá’s voice resonates, rich and affectionate, a tribute to the spirit that breathes life into every corner of our home. The home that still echoes with Mamá’s laughter.
Gabriel raises his glass, a solemn glint in his eyes. "To la familia. That is at the heart of everything we do."
Diego's chuckle ripples through the room as he gently rocks Lucy on his lap. "To sleepless nights sprinkled in baby giggles."
A grin tugs at my lips as I lock eyes with baby Lucy. Brimming with trust, her innocent gaze is a lifeline to us all, anchoring us in ways we never fathomed.
The clinking of glasses punctuates the laughter—the soundtrack to our evening. In this moment, we are not just a family bound by blood but also by shared experiences, triumphs, and failures.
Inés's eyes soften, a gentle warmth emanating as they traverse each face. "Lucy will grow up knowing she has the fiercest protectors watching over her. Not just her grandfather and uncles, but also in the legacy she was born into. La Serpiente Dorada."
Papá’s contemplative silence gives way to booming laughter, a sound as comforting as it is commanding. "We can only hope that she's inherited her mother's grace and discernment, and her father's prowess and quick thinking."
The meal unfolds like a dance, each dish a portal to our past and a salute to our future. The cooks have surpassed themselves, their artistry letting us drown in the bliss of shared company.
As the night tightens its grip, our conversation grows thoughtful. My impending departure casts a somber shadow over the convivial atmosphere.
I catch my father, Don Antonio, observing me with an intensity that sends a jolt through me. The task weighs heavily on my heart. "Don Antonio, I… The task ahead… I fear I might let you down," I confess, my voice barely more than a whisper. The admission slips from my lips, a boulder rolling off my chest.
Don Antonio's gaze, steady and reassuring, holds mine. His voice is soft when he speaks. "Let me down? Why is that?"
"I…I just hope I'm up to the task. That I don't somehow screw this all up."
A moment of silence stretches between us as Don Antonio studies me. His genuine and comforting smile radiates a confidence that fills the room. "Marco, mijo, you must trust that I would never ask you to do this if I didn't believe you were ready. More importantly, remember that I will support your decisions and be on the next flight if needed. No questions. No judgment."
His words ring true, settling in my core, a soothing balm to my fears. A toast seems fitting. I raise my glass, the limonada within whispering tales of a past tainted by alcohol. It's a testament to my sobriety, a hard-won victory in a war against my own demons. Each sip is a reminder of how I once sought refuge in the numbing embrace of liquor, drowning my fears and doubts in its deceptive warmth. Now, the tangy lemonade symbolizes my resilience, a beacon guiding me away from the precipice of self-destruction.
"To new beginnings," I declare, my voice steady, my resolve stronger. The affirmation reverberates through the room, mirrored in the eyes of each member of my family. I suck in a deep breath, meeting their gazes one by one, before downing my drink with a chuckle. The echo of my haunting thoughts fades into the background, drowned by the shared laughter and clinking glasses.
As the dinner concludes, Gabriel and Diego guide me away from the warmth of the gathering into the quiet solitude of the hacienda's courtyard—our sanctuary amidst the noise of life.
