arden was the ambassador’s daughter protege, even if she was everything her mother made her out to be, the men in the francisco family took credit for most of the women’s work to fix up their image. arden wasn’t proud of it, but this was who she was, and she was proud to be her mother’s daughter, that held the last name, even if most people in mexico didn’t understand it, didn’t understand of most that they went through in this superbly white place that her parents had landed her in. she had missed summers in mexico, but as she had gotten older those visits became less and less as she got older, more responsibilities, her mother had told her, and when she had gotten the mark and gotten engaged it had further proven that point. when the boy in front of her starts to speak she holds no curious face, nothing that forms shock. and when they mention their her grandfather she knew what she was meant to do, how to act.
“no,” she says, her voice and face passive, though it was new to her, she had looked at the other with a raised eyebrow. “i’m an only child, you must be delusional,” she says, the words sting on her tongue before she reiterates herself, “though, i wouldn’t be surprised. the wix mexico gossip must be incredibly bored.” there had been rumours of course, rumours that her mother had told her to bury, and of course, she had never believed any of them, because why would her parents lie to her? “i suggest you get your latest scoop else where,” she says as a warning, because she wasn’t beyond blasting their arse into the next century in front of thousands of people, especially because she had work in a few minutes.
They didn’t tell her. Shit, she hadn’t known anything. Dajo knew a poker face when he saw one. It was a Conway specialty. Had their grandfather taught Arden that as well? He could feel the Plan shifting in his head as they spoke, writing her out of the brimstone and fire. If she didn’t know, she wasn’t complicit. If she wasn’t complicit, she didn’t deserve what he had planned. “I’m not delusional.” He said, voice much kinder than it had been just a moment before.
“Why do you think they left? All that gossip, all those years on years, there’s truth in rumors that last that long.” He said. “Why do you think you stopped going back these last years? I’d started my job by then. We could’ve run into each other. You would’ve heard the way they all talk about me. Francesco Conway’s unloved bastard, walking around like the world hadn’t tried to force him out. Think about it, Arden.”
