Chapter 6: In the Lion's Den
Lopkinnf walked through the streets of Jex, his heart pounding as he gripped the key he had taken from Pedro's lifeless body. He knew the address—Pedro had bragged about his family's wealth on more than one occasion. Now, that wealth was his ticket to infiltrating the upper echelons of society.
He reached the mansion just as the evening lights flickered on. The massive iron gates, adorned with intricate carvings, stood tall and imposing. Beyond them, the sprawling estate was a testament to excess: a marble fountain glimmered in the driveway, and the facade of the house was a symphony of glass and stone.
Pedro's key slipped into the gate's lock effortlessly, and with a quiet click, the gate swung open. Lopkinnf's breath hitched as he made his way to the front door. His hands trembled slightly, but he steadied himself. He couldn't afford hesitation now.
When he opened the door and stepped inside, the grandeur of the interior took his breath away. A crystal chandelier hung above the foyer, casting a golden glow over polished floors and walls lined with expensive artwork. The scent of luxury was everywhere—perfume, polished wood, and freshly cut flowers.
But it wasn't the house that caught Lopkinnf's attention.
In the living room, a young woman sat on a plush armchair, her legs crossed as she scrolled through her phone. She was dressed in a casual yet elegant outfit: a fitted black sweater and designer jeans. Her wavy dark brown hair fell over her shoulders, and her sharp hazel eyes glinted with a mix of boredom and curiosity. She looked up, her gaze locking on Lopkinnf.
"Pedro?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.
Lopkinnf froze but quickly recovered, nodding curtly.
The girl smirked, standing up. "You're home earlier than I expected. Didn't you say you'd be out all night?"
This had to be Pedro's sister. Her name surfaced in Lopkinnf's memory—Pedro had once mentioned her casually, calling her Isabella Vilán, an 18-year-old who had just graduated from an elite private school. She was known for her sharp wit and even sharper tongue, a rising star in the Vilán family.
Before Lopkinnf could respond, a man's deep voice echoed from the dining room.
"Pedro! Come in here, son!"
Lopkinnf turned toward the sound, his heartbeat quickening. He stepped into the dining room to see Pedro's father, Alfredo Vilán, seated at the head of an ornate dining table. Alfredo was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties, with graying hair slicked back and piercing blue eyes that radiated authority. He wore a tailored suit, even at home, exuding power and control.
Beside him sat Clara Vilán, Pedro's mother, a graceful woman in her early forties with striking blonde hair styled into a neat bun. Her features were delicate yet stern, her every movement deliberate. She sipped from a crystal glass, her cold gaze falling on Lopkinnf.
"You're late," Clara said sharply, setting her glass down. "Where have you been?"
Lopkinnf's mind raced. He straightened his posture, mimicking the confidence he had seen in Pedro.
"Out with some friends," he said, keeping his voice steady.
Clara frowned but said nothing more, her attention returning to Alfredo, who gestured for Lopkinnf to sit.
"Come, join us for dinner," Alfredo said, his tone commanding yet warm. "We need to discuss your future. The Vilán name carries weight, Pedro, and you need to start preparing to uphold it."
Lopkinnf nodded, sliding into the empty seat at the table. As he picked up the silverware, he glanced around, taking in every detail of the family he had just infiltrated.
Alfredo and Clara were clearly used to control, their every word and action designed to maintain their family's status. Isabella, meanwhile, watched Lopkinnf with a sly smirk, as if she already suspected something was off.
But Lopkinnf didn't waver. He was in the lion's den now, and he would play the role of Pedro Vilán flawlessly. These people, with their wealth and power, had built their lives on the suffering of others like him. And as he sat at their table, eating their food and wearing their son's clothes, he silently vowed to make them pay for every injustice they had ignored.
For now, he was Pedro Vilán. But soon, they would know the true face of their undoing.