Chapter 59

Mary was quite calm, all things considered. She ate her food and remained unfazed even as everyone stared at her.

"Is something on my face?"

"No, nothing like that," Owen said.

"Then it seems my beauty is as captivating as ever," Mary remarked.

Isabella snorted. "Maybe if you got facial surgery."

"I thought the case was going well," Owen said, brushing aside the previous comment which Mary was very eager to respond to. "That's verbatim what you told me, actually. It was going well."

"It was until it didn't."

"What an explanation," Isabella muttered.

"Inheritance stuff isn't as simple as sitting on your computer," Mary snapped back, "especially considering where we live. It's a village in the middle of nowhere and the city courts scratch their heads sometimes when we go into detail regarding the business. Imports, exports, it's a big business with not enough paperwork."

All of them—Isabella, Ophelia, Mary, and Owen—hailed from a village in Spain, Andalusia. The region itself was known for its rural space and its "white villages". Some were isolated, others were connected to the city. Their village was the former, rarely sending youth over to the city side and keeping their population nice and contained. Mary's father had been the mayor of the village for a long time and died when she was young. That left Mary's mother to take over. She was much more ambitious than her husband and began importing and selling beauty products. Beauty products turned to fashion which then expanded to food, grocery, and even medicine. In ten years, Mary's family went from upper-middle class to millionaires. Life was treading fine for the rich girl until her mother unexpectedly passed away last year.

"Right, but the will," Owen said. "Your mother explicitly wrote for you to take over eighty-percent of the business operation. She said your brother would drive everything she built into the ground."

"It seems my brother has picked up a thing or two from boarding school. Specifically, forging evidence and being an absolute piece of shit."

"Wait, wait, if you've been branded a fraud and thief…" Owen trailed off. "Doesn't that make you an international criminal? You fled the country."

"I left right as the charges were stuck."

"That's…still a crime."

"Babe, babe, babe." Mary placed a finger on his chest. "First, you've gotten thinner. Eat up. Second, why do I think I came here? I have a plan."

Owen didn't understand. A plan? What kind? Legally, she was on the backfoot. That left…

Owen narrowed his eyes. "Mary…"

"Lalalala!" Mary blocked her ears. "Mary? Mary? Who is that? Call me babe or baby, that's my name."

Owen stared her down. "You seriously didn't come here because you thought I would intimidate your brother."

"That's exactly why I came here!" Mary removed her hands from her ears and smirked. Her finger-gun pressed into his chest. "You scare the living shit out of Max. Remember? You and him were back for the summer and the guy tried intimidating you and he—hahaha! He literally pissed his pants when you punched him!" She turned to Ophelia, cackling. "Remember? It was right in front of the Prize Store! It's a core fucking memory!"

Isabella's nose crinkled. She remembered. It happened right in front of her as she was managing the shop. Owen cringed at the memory.

"It was pretty funny," Ophelia admitted. Seeing the grimace on Owen, she added, "B-but that was the old Owen! He's not like that anymore!"

"Are you sure?" A glint appeared in Mary's eyes. She turned to Owen, then back to Ophelia, hair shifting gracefully. "Do you know what I saw on my way here?"

Ophelia tilted her head. Owen scowled.

"Me and Owen met at the store," Mary began, smiling, "and you wouldn't guess what was about to happen—"

"Nothing happened," Owen said, frowning. "Seriously."

There was a strong bite behind his words. Ophelia didn't notice the bite while Isabella did, eyeing Owen curiously.

"I'm just kidding," Mary said, her smile growing into a smirk. She poked his chest and leaned in close. "You know I like that bad boy side of you. I'm not complaining about it at all," she whispered.

Owen closed his eyes and drew in a breath. "Alright, I get it."

"Do you?" Mary leaned back, still smiling. "By the way, how has streaming been going? Hit a big break yet?"

Streaming? Shit, after the chest injury and Isabella's videos, he didn't have time for it. Much of his time was spent resting.

"Not exactly. It's a work in progress," he replied, pursing his lips.

"Right." Mary did not look convinced and checked her nails. "You can keep at it. I can't stop you." Sigh. "Waste some hours while your tired, lonely girlfriend has returned from a long trip."

Point taken. Owen chuckled. "Don't worry, I haven't streamed in weeks—"

"Oh, thank god!" Mary tore her gaze from her black nails, relieved to the point of excitement. "I couldn't stand to see you turn on that screen every day and get nothing. I don't have depression like Isabella does, but I certainly felt it sometimes."

"Hey—"

"Depression is contagious, I'm telling you. Babe and Isabella get sad and suddenly I'm sad too."

"It's called empathy," Isabella said. "Surprised you have any."

"Actually, Ms. Depression, it's called being normal."

"If the courts were hearing you now, you would be tried for stupidity and discrimination."

"Depression these days also brings the person's IQ to room temperature. So sad…"

"Says the idiot who caught outsmarted."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Not outsmarted, out connected."

"Didn't you once say, 'Excuses are for the losers'. So who's the loser now?"

"It's called strategy; something your pea-sized brain can't compute without breaking."

Owen couldn't help but burst into laughter. Immediately, Ophelia joined in. Isabella rolled her eyes and went back to typing. Mary wore a small smile.

"Look at you two go." Owen put an arm around Mary and pulled her onto his shoulder. "You really do care, huh? Maybe I'll consider helping you out."

"That easy?" Mary closed her eyes and nuzzled against his shoulder, smiling. Her hand touched his. "I chose well. Of course I did, I'm Mary Guirola. I don't make mistakes."