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The revelation is too much. I stand abruptly, wrapping my arms around myself as tears begin to fall, mourning the privacy I thought I had within my own walls. "I don't want to talk about the details. If you know, then you know," I choke out, the words barely a whisper.
Circling me, Don Melchor's stance is protective, his voice resolute. "I will make myself abundantly clear. I do not condone harm toward women and children, especially the innocent." His declaration, firm and unwavering, offers a solace I've never known, a stark contrast to the life I've lived thus far.
Closing my eyes, I allow myself to lean into the kindness he offers, a kindness so foreign compared to the coldness of my own family. In the confines of this study, I find an unexpected sanctuary, a glimmer of hope that perhaps not all is lost.
Chapter Four
Marco
I stride into the morning dining room; the space bathed in soft, natural light, and immediately greet Don Melchor. "Good morning, Tito," I say, but my greeting trails off as my gaze locks on to the woman from the back garden earlier. There's a brief pause before Don Melchor decides to make introductions.
"Ah, Señor Marco, let me introduce you to Pia Mendoza," he says, gesturing toward her warmly.
Pia looks up, her expression nonchalant, at odds with the curiosity that piques within me. "Pleasure to meet you," I offer, extending my hand.
She takes it, her grip brief and detached, before quickly returning to her fruit plate. This fleeting interaction, her apparent indifference, irks me more than I care to admit. I sit across from her, adjacent to Don Melchor, trying to shake off the slight.
As breakfast progresses, Don Melchor segues into a discussion that immediately heightens the room's unease. "About the senator's death…"
I can't help interrupting.
"With all due respect, Tito, I'm not sure discussing such matters in front of Miss Pia is appropriate," I interject, trying to balance deference to Don Melchor and the authority I possess in my own right.
Pia's reaction is immediate and sharp. "Excuse me, but considering I'm being used as leverage in Don Melchor's dealings, I think I deserve to be privy to what's happening," she retorts, her confidence and defiance cutting through the morning calm.
Her assertiveness takes me aback, and I'm momentarily at a loss. Don Melchor, however, doesn't miss a beat. "Marco, Pia is already involved, whether we like it or not. She should be aware of the situation."
Despite his reasoning, involving Pia further sits uneasily with me. "I strongly disagree with discussing sensitive matters openly like this," I state firmly, my discomfort with the situation palpable.
Our standoff is brief but intense. "We can continue this conversation after breakfast, Tito," I say, the finality in my voice brooking no argument. I stand, ready to excuse myself, unwilling to bend.
Don Melchor, ever the peacemaker, holds up a hand. "Please, Marco, let's change the subject. Stay."
Reluctantly, I retake my seat, though the air between Pia and me crackles with unspoken hostility. She doesn't hide her displeasure, her gaze sharp and accusatory across the table. The morning, once peaceful, now feels charged with a silent confrontation.
As breakfast concludes, Pia excuses herself with a swift grace that leaves no room for objections. I watch her retreat; her figure quickly disappearing around a corner. Turning back to Don Melchor, I realize the need for a more private discussion. "Tito, may we speak alone?" I ask, my voice carrying a firmness that brooks no disagreement.
Don Melchor nods, understanding my request, and leads us into the study. The moment the door clicks shut behind us, the air shifts, becoming charged with the demands of leadership and unspoken conflict.
"I'm not sure what just transpired at breakfast," I start, my words measured, reflecting the intensity of my role within La Serpiente Dorada. "But I must insist that our business discussions remain closed to outsiders without my consent."
Don Melchor's response is immediate, a slight edge to his tone. "Señor Marco, I would appreciate a more respectful tone in my presence."
Despite his admonition, I stand my ground, the stakes too high to yield. "And I must emphasize, Tito, that when it concerns La Serpiente Dorada, it concerns me directly. Our conversations, susceptible ones, should not include strangers."
We stand at an impasse, the room filled with the strain of our standoff, until Don Melchor inhales deeply, conceding with a nod. "Very well. I understand your point. And for the record," he adds, his voice heavy with implication, "that young lady is not just any stranger. She is the daughter of Angelo Mendoza of the Talim ng Dagat Cartel in Batangas."
His revelation sends a wave of frustration through me. "And that gives me even more reason to question her presence here. Why would we discuss anything related to our operations in front of what we could very well consider the enemy?"
Don Melchor raises his hand, a gesture meant to pacify. "Señor Marco, please, let me explain." And explain he does, laying out the circumstances and rationale behind Pia's presence with a clarity that provides a broader context. At the same time, it doesn't wholly assuage my concerns.
After his explanation, I'm left momentarily speechless, the complexity rendering me silent. When words finally find me, they contain an unwavering resolve. "I want it clear, Tito, that she will remain uninvolved in La Serpiente Dorada's affairs. Understood?"
Don Melchor meets my gaze, silent understanding passing between us. "Understood, Señor Marco," he agrees, his acknowledgment marking the close of our discussion yet prompting a myriad of strategic considerations for the days ahead.
Changing the subject, I seek clarity on a matter looming over our operations. "All right, since that is now clear, what about Senator Fuentes did you want to discuss?"
Don Melchor gestures towards the plush chairs in his study, indicating we should make ourselves comfortable. As we sit, he delves into the heart of the issue with a seriousness that immediately signals the gravity of the situation.
