Chapter 67
As it was almost time to get out of work, when Oscar showed up at the company entrance, I heard the amazed gasps from those girls in the clerical office outside. The receptionist quickly called my assistant through the internal line, telling him that some guy was claiming to be my boyfriend.
My assistant had naturally met Oscar before, so he immediately went downstairs and brought Oscar in.
Looking at the person standing at my office door, I glanced up at him briefly, then kept my head down, looking at the documents in my hands: "What are you doing here?"
Oscar smiled and sat down in front of me, tapping the dial on his wristwatch: "I came to pick you up from work."
I still didn't look up: "Are you done with everything? Why so early today?"
Oscar casually took out a pen and spun it between his fingers: "You're not mad at me for being so busy with work these past few days and ignoring you, are you? That's why I came today. Everything's done, I can finally relax for a bit. How about I take you out for dinner?"
I put down the documents and took the pen back from his hand, placing it properly in the pen holder: "I might have to work late today. Why don't you just go home first?"
"Then I'll keep you company while you work." Oscar adjusted himself into a comfortable position - clearly, there was no way he was going back.
"Are you sure there's nothing you need from me?" I asked him again.
Oscar touched his nose, his voice a bit unclear: "Well, if you really want to know, there is something."
I laughed softly, looking at him with a smile, waiting for him to continue.
Oscar, being stared at so directly by me, showed no sign of guilt. He coughed once before asking, "Gregory came to see you today?"
I knew it!
"You've got informants at my workplace?" I'd always known Bianca was his person.
Oscar smiled: "That's not called having informants. Shouldn't I care about my own fiancée? What did he come to see you about? Because of the Brown Family situation? Who does he think he is?"
I gave him an annoyed look: "I don't care why he came, but when he left, he took a letter of intent for cooperation with him."
Oscar wasn't surprised by my words - clearly, he'd known about my plan all along: "When you sign the cooperation agreement, better not make it long-term. If you end up getting caught in the crossfire, the money we lose will be our own."
He had no reservations with me.
"Just give me a heads up when the time comes. But Oscar, actually, your dad treats you pretty well now. Even though he did use you to get through that rough patch at first, you're still part of the Lopez family after all. Are you really going to do this?"
I really wanted to remind him that if Robert was telling the truth and only had a few years left to live, I was afraid Oscar would regret it in the end.
Oscar's smile remained carefree: "Then guess why he treats me pretty well now? Isn't it because I have value? If you say I'm his son after all, then twenty-something years ago, wasn't I his son? Emily, you're still too soft-hearted. Could two pieces of candy win you over?"
I reached out and slapped his hand: "When meeting in person, there's always a bit of goodwill. I've seen photos of your grandmother - she looked kind and gentle, but I heard she was very strong-willed. Robert inherited the Martinez family fortune, so maybe he didn't have much choice."
Oscar's smile took on a hint of disgust: "By marrying my mother, he essentially bought his ticket to financial freedom. Forget it, this disgusts me. My design department staff have already coordinated with Nina. I haven't officially thanked you yet - if it weren't for you, I probably couldn't have gotten her to come."
I waved my hand: "Let's be clear first - Nina's specialty is fashion design. If she doesn't do well, you can't dock her pay. It's one thing for me to let her mess around with my office building, but you're really comfortable handing over such a big project to her?"
Oscar waved his hand: "It's not like I'm handing it to her alone. The design department has so many designers, they'll eventually settle on the best version."
"That Ivan..." Some things were understood without saying - asking seemed a bit unnecessary.
Oscar's eyes crinkled with a smile, his lips letting out a disdainful snort: "I just shared information about his mistresses with each other, didn't do anything else. These side chicks were getting more and more ambitious - every one of them thought they could push out the wife and take her place. One drama after another, and things just spiraled out of control."
Alright then!
"You managed to do something big with minimal cost." As we were chatting casually, my phone rang.
It was a very long video, clearly shot from a hidden angle, with crystal-clear picture and sound.
"What's wrong? Who sent you a message?" Oscar leaned over to look.
I opened the video. In it was Sophia, wearing a mask, looking around nervously as soon as she sat down, her face tightly covered.
Soon, Paul appeared in the frame, walking over and sitting down openly in front of Sophia, his voice quite flippant: "Ms. Brown, we meet again."
Sophia's brows furrowed together as she lowered her voice angrily: "We settled up long ago. Why are you still looking for me?"
Paul calmly called over a server, and Sophia immediately shut her mouth, lowering her head and not daring to speak.
He ordered a coffee and some desserts. After the server left, he said with a grin, "Ms. Brown, when you asked me to handle things before, you didn't have this attitude."
Sophia seemed speechless: "Just say it - how much do you want?"
Paul laughed softly: "You're straightforward as always. Actually, let me make this clear - this isn't blackmail. We agreed at the time that we'd deliver the person to you, and you'd give us kickbacks. But in the end, the person you had us mess with died before even arriving, and then the buyer came after us for money. We couldn't reach you, so we had to eat the loss ourselves. I live with having killed someone. The mental burden is crushing."
"Did she really die?" You couldn't see her expression under the mask in the video, but her tone was full of excitement. "When did she die? How did she die?"
"They said it was a wound infection and inflammation. She died within a few days. Ms. Brown, I'm not worried - if this really comes out, I'm at most an accomplice. You're the mastermind. I kept all the records of our transactions." Paul's voice was full of threats.
Sophia's tone was already getting impatient: "Stop talking so much. How much do you want exactly? Let me be clear - don't even think about ripping me off."
"Although the Brown Family is about to go bankrupt, you should still be able to come up with a million dollars, right? Give me a million dollars, and we'll call this matter settled." Paul turned his face, quickly glancing around.
Sophia tried hard to keep her voice down: "I already gave you one and a half million dollars. After all these years, you still want another million. How dare you? You should find out if that bitch was even worth that much money."
She quickly stood up, ready to turn and leave.
"Whether she's worth that much, I don't know. This is your price. Think it over carefully. I don't have much time to waste with you. Within three days, if the money doesn't arrive, I'll anonymously send the evidence to the police." Paul didn't even try to stop her, raising his voice a bit, drawing the attention of other customers in the video.
Sophia turned around. In the video, her eyes were sinister, no longer showing her earlier nervousness. She snorted coldly and turned to leave.
After watching the video, Oscar asked me: "What are you planning to do?"
A smile appeared at the corner of my mouth: "Watch them tear each other apart. I just wonder where she'll get that million dollars from."
At least, the Brown Family shouldn't have a million dollars for her to throw around right now.