The Respected Elder, Old Barry

The celebration lasted all day. I was tired from the intense partying and was bewildered beyond belief of the childish party games they played. Linda, who was standing at a safe distance from me was the one to inform me of what they were doing. She said they were mostly traditional party games of the Hispanic culture. When she said that, realization dawned upon me. They were a very traditional sort.

"That's Veo Veo, Madame," said Linda. "Similar to the game 'I Spy'."

I nodded understandingly. The jerk was the one in the middle, looking around, while his subordinates were the ones that are to look for what he says. He was saying something Spanish, although there is a repetitive phrase he says every time.

Another game was similar to fencing. But, they used real swords. Probably a more dangerous rendition of the game befitting their organization.

"We call that La Verdadera Destreza. It is the true art and skill of Spanish swordsmanship."

"I see. They're good with words too." Not just guns.

After the games, they took a short snack break they called merienda. I didn't complain because finally, it's a break from all the uproar of the games. I ate cheesecake quietly with the jerk, who I now refuse to address with his name on my mind, and we barely spoke to each other. He appeared tired, too, given that he joined all games. Even a fit man would be fatigued from all that.

During dinner, the environment was calmer and their adrenaline looked to be finally gone. Even though their moods are still bright. I observed numerous people. Most of them were physically fit, with rough actions, and I even saw a handful with scars on their face—like the jerk. They all looked dangerous, but their lethal auras were dimmed down today because of the bright atmosphere and smiles plastered on their faces.

In the middle of our meal, he suddenly stood up and went to the front with a wine glass. He cleared his throat and exhaled, silencing the noisy hall. I watched his every move, my eyes feigning innocence.

"This is a special day for me," he said, his voice composed and loud enough for everyone to hear. He swirled the wine in his glass as he continued, "I will look back on this day as one of our most memorable days. I hope my friends will also cherish today...and of course," his roaming eyes landed on me. "To my new wife, and to the new lady of the clan—Cheers!"

Everyone raised their glasses, some looking at me as they yell.

"Cheers!"

I smiled gratefully, my cheeks flushing and my eyes twinkling with joy. I whispered a meek 'thank you' and went for my own wine. But deep down, my suspicion is growing. Are they usually this shallow, celebrating this much for a marriage of convenience? Are they really welcoming me when it's just my first day? Not even an ounce of the doubt for my intentions? Did they underestimate me that much?

Well, I guess that's what I was going for in the start to avoid suspicion. I just felt uneasy, like this mission is getting easier and easier.

"You don't seem that happy, young lady."

I jolted to the owner of the voice and found an older man staring at me with profound curiosity. His back was slightly hunched due to his aged bones, but there was still a trace of his massive body when he was in his prime. His gray hair had strands of silver hair and his face was wrinklier than Linda's.

"Do you mind my company?" He asked and motioned to the seat in front of me, where the jerk was just seated. I heard him laughing from a faraway table, completely forgetting about the wife he left alone at this table. How irresponsible.

"N-Not at all...Sir." I hesitated on what to address him. He seemed to notice that and immediately introduced himself as he occupied the jerk's seat.

"I am Old Barry. Not a Sir at all, just an elder of the Rios Clan. I am the master's adviser," he introduced, grabbing a grape. I watched his actions warily. The adviser of the business tyrant, Old Barry. I didn't hear about him in Fox's report.

"I-I am Fallon Ravest—ah, Rios."

His lips tugged at my mistake and grabbed another grape. "Welcome to our humble house, young lady. You must still be adjusting to the environment, which explains your dull disposition today. Or perhaps you're a bit reluctant to the unfolding events?"

Just like his subject, he also spouts sharp words while maintaining that soft, smooth tone. Like he didn't just call me a dull girl. I tamed the flicker of annoyance and quickly shook my head. "N-No, not at all, O-Old Barry. I was just...surprised by the quick pace. Just yesterday, I was still on the streets asking passersby for change."

His keen eyes evaluated the truth to my words. My tongue was dripping with venomous lies, but I'm an expert at weaving stories and manipulating people's minds through their emotions—in this case, it's pity.

Then, he slowly nodded. "I see. How did your parents die?"

My blood ran cold. My right eye twitched, and I could swear I saw the flash of something sinister in his eyes. Why suddenly ask about my parents? All of the sudden?

"E-Excuse me? My parents?" My throat dried. That question caught me off-guard. When he nodded and casually grabbed another grape, I broke out of the shock and desperately pulled myself together. "My parents... died when I was 16."

"Yes, I heard. So, how?"

My nervous fingers fidgeted with each other from under the table. I had a reason for this, I prepared for this. But my mind is blank. I couldn't remember my reason, and I can't even come up with one at the moment.

"They..." How did my true parents die? I'll just get the lie from that! Yes! "They—"

"That's a bit rude, Old Barry," someone scolded from behind me. Old Barry's eyes went to the owner of the baritone voice that interrupted us and to my surprise, the elder dramatically sighed and rolled his eyes. What? "Don't you think our mistress would be uncomfortable with such a question? And at her own wedding day?"

The man pulled a char from the nearby table and placed it to my right. He sat the opposite way on it, spreading his legs and placing his elbows to the backrest of the chair. He grinned at me, his short messy ginger hair shining under the chandelier's light and his pale complexion brightening his face, add the light freckles. Despite his boyish face, he had a muscular built with broad shoulders.

"We met last night, madame! But it was too dark for the night to do my good looks justice so I don't think you noticed me." He snickered at his own remark, as if proud of his introduction. "The name's Ross. Ross Reagan."

"H-Hi, Ross." I meekly greeted him.

"What unpleasant behavior from the most mannerless brat, how unsurprising," was Old Barry's harsh comment for Ross's intervention. "Stop talking over people and invading private conversations, brat."

"But you were asking her 'how' her parents died! That must've been a traumatic experience for Fall here yet you still asked! And it's her wedding day, don't ruin it!" Ross retorted, scowling at the elder.

Fall? Is that...my nickname? My brow rose mentally.

Old Barry merely ignored him. And I ought to answer, to avoid early suspicions. The very thing I questioned earlier was given to me. I can't mess this up...not this early.

"N-No, it's okay...Ross," I stepped in, smiling slightly at Ross. He was probably a few years younger than me, but he is undeniably bigger. "I can answer."

I met Old Barry's eyes again. This man is undoubtedly that jerk's advisor. He's observant, extremely untrusting, and sharp. I have to be careful around him.

"I grew up hearing my parents arguing every day. Even if they're busy with their work, they still found things to argue over..." That first part was true. "When I turned 16, a heated argument made my father lift a hand to my mother. He found out she was pregnant with another man's baby. My father forced her to drop the baby. The baby was aborted, and my mother killed herself shortly afterward because of her conscience. My father was devastated by my mother's death and eventually...followed her." It was a mix of truth and lies. I hope he'd be convinced enough to let the matter go.

We stared at each other for a few moments, unblinking. I kept my eyes on him and expressed my honesty through my eyes, even though they were already moist as if remembering the scenes in my head. Ross quietly observed the two of us.

Then, Old Barry blinked and grabbed another grape.

"I see," was his short reply. I subtly sighed in relief. He'll be a difficult man to deal with.