The Deception ~ LN4

19

The small private jet cut through layers of clouds, a metallic arrow piercing the winter sky. Lando watched Mercedes, who was technically piloting but seemed more lost in thought than focused on the instrument panel. Her professional precision was always there, but today something else flickered beneath the surface.

"Nervous?" he asked, squeezing her hand.

Mercedes gave a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Me? Never."

But they both knew different. This was her family. Her roots. And unlike his warm, boisterous Bristol clan, her family carried a different energy. Marcelo, her father, was a retired Air Force mechanic with decades of experience keeping aircraft in perfect condition. Tanja managed apartment complexes in Anchorage, a job that required its own brand of strategic thinking and people management.

Alaska wasn't just a destination. It was a personal landscape of memories and expectations.

The landscape below transformed – from dense forests to snow-covered expanses that seemed to stretch into infinity. Her family's home was nestled outside Anchorage, a modern structure that blended seamlessly with the wilderness, large windows capturing the dramatic Alaskan light.

Javier, now 19 and deep into his architecture studies, was waiting outside when they landed. He wore a stylish winter coat, a rolled architectural blueprint peeking out from his messenger bag – the perfect embodiment of a young professional finding his path.

"Sis!" he called out, a mix of excitement and cool composure.

Mercedes' transformation was immediate. From professional pilot to protective sister, her smile became something raw and genuine. Javier hugged her tightly, then turned analytical eyes to Lando.

"So you're the Formula One driver," Javier said, more assessment than greeting. His architectural mind was already sizing Lando up – studying proportions, understanding structures.

Marcelo and Tanja watched from the doorway. Marcelo – sturdy, with hands that spoke of years working with machines, eyes that could diagnose a mechanical issue with a single glance – stood slightly ahead. Tanja, practical and sharp, observed with the same strategic eye she used to manage complex apartment properties.

Mercedes felt the weight of potential judgment. Her family wasn't easily impressed. They valued substance over spectacle.

"Papa," she said, stepping forward to hug Marcelo. He returned the embrace with a strength that spoke of years maintaining aircraft, of precision and care.

Tanja's welcome was more measured. A kiss on each cheek, a look that seemed to see through Mercedes rather than at her.

"He's taller than I expected," Tanja said in her thick German accent, looking at Lando. Not a criticism. An observation.

Javier couldn't help himself. "His racing car's aerodynamics are fascinating," he interjected, already pulling out his tablet to show some comparative architectural and automotive design studies.

Lando, to his credit, engaged immediately. Mercedes watched, a mixture of pride and anxiety threading through her.

This wasn't just an introduction. This was a complex negotiation of identities, of family dynamics, of proving oneself worthy.

The Alaskan winter pressed against the windows. Outside, the landscape was both challenge and invitation – much like the moment unfolding inside.

The interior of the house told a story of practicality married to aspiration. Marcelo's workbench in the corner – meticulously organized tools speaking to years of mechanical precision – sat near Javier's drafting area, where architectural models and technical drawings created a landscape of potential.