[center][h3][color=91AABA]E D W A R D[/color][/h3][/center]

[color=004b80]"Hey. You got the messages."[/color]

Edward and Mariana were en route to the pool house, along a cobblestone path set atop neatly trimmed grass. Lawn care that was top of the line—God forbid his family spare any expenses. He supposed they didn't need to. They had billions in various offshore accounts, each one stemming off the blood flow of taxes and fees with the stanching only international waters could provide. They had so many that each Blackstone child was essentially given one of their own, with all the accounts connected back to the main trust; a constant flow of money.

He was no stranger to insider knowledge. He knew how Bailey, who was now catching up to himself and their sister, was leeching the funds the family allowed her, all while pursuing some career in biomechanics that Edward didn't have the knowledge to complement in conversation. It's not that he was stupid. He simply found better priorities to care about. Regardless, Bailey wasn't the only one pseudo-pilfering from the Blackstone treasury accounts, he figured. He imagined Katherine had her share of the wealth as well, her company funded by Father almost directly, and he wouldn't be surprised if Mariana did the same, though he could almost understand her situation.

But Edward? He never touched his. If he didn't make the money on his own, he didn't want it.

Edward turned and watched Bailey catch up, her diminutive stature ill-dressed for the mood. [color=91AABA]"We're all part of the same group chat,"[/color] he said, half-smiling at her attempts to seem cordial. [color=91AABA]"Kind of expected. Aren't you a little under-dressed? Father's dead, not inviting us to a concert."[/color]