#del bosque

Ian steels himself as he parks his car. The drive up to Casa Del Bosque from his home with his mother was a good 45 minutes, mostly up in the hills in the outskirts of the city. The drive gets prettier the further from the city you get, and Ian can’t help but admire the view of the city skyline from the distance and elevation of the gently rolling hills. He takes time to breathe, and re-runs through his plan over and over in his head. He has one of two original copies of his birth certificate with him, Rafael's name and signature on the father lines. And a number of notarized copies. He gets to the turn for the long winding driveway, and is shocked to find it wide open, he would have assumed they would have had the gate locked. As he drives farther, he sees three more cars winding up the path. Ah, I must have just managed to slip past before it closed… hm. He sighs, breathing deeply. He got into the driveway, thats half the battle. Now, he simply needs to go in the doors… The absolutely massive doors leading up into the main house. He stares in awe as he parks in front of the door. He holds back, checking his face and his hair. When he’s certain he is presentable, he finds his way up to the door. There are no guards outside, but he listens closely, and quickly and quietly slips in when he hears silence. He looks around briefly, and finding his way into a small partially concealed corner. Now, he is in, time to get to whatever room the rest of the family is in. He thinks. Easy. No problem. He spends a few minutes meditating, eyes closed, calming himself and getting himself mentally prepared.

He opens his eyes, gaze sharp and focused.

Go time. He stares in awe at the absolute artistry that is the foyer, as he steps out of his hiding space, looking at portraits in awe. The amount of history in these halls… And to think it’s his history too. He may have known, logically, that he is a Del Bosque since he was maybe four or five, but knowing a fact and actually finding yourself in the halls of your ancestors, feeling the history of the space permeating the air, charging the halls with a special energy only the oldest of buildings seem to carry. Walking halls generations have walked before him… His mind wanders, and he wonders about what life here must have been like in decades and centuries past. He imagines what it must feel like to grow up quite literally living amongst history past and presently being made. He follows the sound of raised, irate voices towards what seems to be a main atrium, a long family table in the center. Someone who can only be security approaches, a serious expression, and Ian holds up his folder. “I have important information to share to the whole family.” his voice is soft, wanting to stay unnoticed as long as he can. He smiles at the man, and meets his eyes. “Who are you? I have never seen you before. You dont belong here.” the other young mans olive skin seems to shive where the light hits it, and his green eyes practically glow with how vibrant they are, and Ian finds himself staring into them, caught off guard by how pretty the guard in front of him is. “Sorry. Sorry, here.” he shakes his head slightly, sighing, and shows him his passport, and birth certificate. The guards eyes go wide and he just nods. “Of course, sir, apologies.” Ian smiles and shakes his head. “I don’t need the fancy title or anything. Just Ian is fine. Now, if I may?” he smiles brightly, plastering on his most earnest and disarming smile, and the guard just nods, and if their gazes linger on each other a touch too long… well, no one needs to know. Ian practically glides into the room. “Apologies, but may I speak? I have some rather important information I think everyone present is entitled to hear.” he passes them each a certified copy of his birth certificate and a picture of his passport, all face down. He hands the original copy and his passport itself to the head of the table. “You may turn the pages. My name, is Ian Rafael Hale Del Bosque. Although, I never disclose that last part to anyone I don't need to. I grew up in the area between Corcovado and Paloma City itself. Rafael gave my mother a Del Bosque property to run and use as she saw fit. And left me a small education trust. As we speak, the very first reports of my existence to the entirety of Coronado will be reported. An email was sent off as soon as I arrived here and well, the press aren’t going to wait to share this kind of information. It will have spread everywhere by nightfall, I imagine.” he takes a few deep breaths, relaxing his shoulders. He watches the room and the varying shades he sees crossing everyone's faces, from green to red. “I know this must be a shock, but I promise to you all I am who I claim to be. And that my mother has nothing to do with this, she doesn’t even know that I am here right now, or that I’m doing this at all.” he looks around the room, meeting eyes with everyone, and staring directly into Rafael's eyes. “I went to school for business and history. I know the history of our home inside and out. And just about any true historian on this island knows that this grand family, the Del Bosques, have had their hands in the affairs of the government and the foundations themselves since the beginning. I am sure none of us know the full extent but… Even from what is public…” he sighs.

Ian smirks, looking at his phone screen as he lounges in the sitting room he was escorted to while the Del Bosque family debates his fate, and he fate of the family, but he hopes his words and his reveal have an impact. He opens his email to see a reply from Simone Montgomery, a local investigative journalist. He smiles as he reads it, an interview request. She's left her contact info in the email, so he shoots off a text asking her when she's free. When he sees that they can meet at his earliest convenience, his grin widens. The interview is set for an hour from now in a local Cafe out in Old Town, a good 40 minute drive from Casa Del Bosque. He hums as he stands up, and moves to leave. Someone he vaguely recognizes as also being dismissed from the meeting room tries to ask him where he's going, and to stop him. “I have an engagement I need to see to, then I will be back. Don't worry.” he smiles disarmingly, and thanks his mother for her insistence he learned proper manners and participate in extracurriculars that tended to be filled with more of the upper classes. Without having done lacrosse and select team football as a kid, and participating in Greek Life in university, socializing with families at least in similar social circles to the Del Bosques, he would’ve felt too scrutinized and out of place to do any of this. That said, this family he is tied to has another thing coming if they think he cant play their game. They likely will underestimate him, but he will use his middleclass smile and charm to his advantage, disarming them and lulling them into a false sense of security. Let them assume. “Seriously, I’ll be gone for maybe three hours, that should give everyone time to pick their side and debate, no? I will see you all for dinner, promise.” he says, voice earnest and eyes softening ever so slightly. “But I really don't want to be late, and I gotta get all the way down to old town. So, see you later!” he presses past with a wave and a smile. They let him pass with a bewildered look, watching as he finds his way back out of the winding halls of the main house. He makes his way to his car, and pulls out, turning on near-deafeningly-loud music to sing as he drives, windows down, to the parking lot for Old Town. The drive is warm and pleasant, and passes by with no incident as he gets into the city proper. He finds a decent parking space and parks. He checks his hair and teeth in the car mirror, leaves his vest in the car, and makes his way to the cafe. He waits for Simone with bated breath, trying to snack on a cookie to occupy himself while he waits. He thinks about the meeting he just walked in on and bore witness to. The fighting, the chaos. It is even worse than he thought it was, and such an influential family being in disarray… It’s like they've forgotten where their influence comes from and how to take charge. Maybe they really aren't fit for guiding Coronado anymore if they can’t even communicate amongst themselves. They squabble like school children, all of them. He sits back, leaning against the back of his chair, head hanging back as he sighs and wipes a hand down his face.