"I'm sorry, Dad, but I was little then," Richie said with a sheepish smile, shrugging.
"Ah…" The man sighed sadly. "Richie, your mother… she left us."
"You mean she died?"
"No." The man shook his head slightly. "Let's just say we had some misunderstandings that were difficult to resolve."
"Dad, I'm an adult now. You can tell me the whole truth."
"Even if it's unpleasant?" the duke raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Yes, Father," the boy nodded seriously.
"Well, perhaps you are old enough to know the truth," the man said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with his right hand. "You see, your mother turned out to be… not the best person. She was the kind of woman who preyed on rich men. At one rather unpleasant moment, I managed to find out that she was using… hmm… how can I explain this to you?"
"Dad, just say it! I'm smart and quick-witted enough. You don't think a stupid person could study ahead of the school curriculum, do you?"
"Richie, I'm proud of your achievements, but don't get cocky. All right, I'll tell you how it really was. Your mother used special pheromone-based drugs to make me fall in love with her. Do you know what pheromones are?"
"Yes, Father," Richie nodded seriously. "Animals release pheromones to attract the opposite sex. I've even heard that there are perfumes with pheromones. But how did you find out about this? I mean, that Mom was using such drugs?"
"She admitted it herself once," the duke replied sadly. "She hoped I would understand everything and stopped giving me these… um… drugs. But it turned out that I saw the light and realized that we had never truly loved each other."
"What about me?"
The transmigrator suddenly felt afraid. If his father had gotten rid of his mother, then perhaps he might ditch him when it came to the inheritance too.
"What about me?" he repeated. "Don't you love me either?!"
"What are you talking about, Richie!" the duke protested. "I love you with all my heart. You are my son—the heir to Grosvenor, the future seventh Duke of Westminster. The fact that your mother and I separated has not affected my love for you in any way."
"Then why do my sisters live with their mother, while I live with you instead of Mom?"
"That's a difficult question…" The man closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the index finger and thumb of his right hand. Adjusting his glasses, he continued, "With Monica, it just happened that way… Out of boredom, she had an affair with the gardener, and I couldn't bear such an insult. In the end, we divorced, and Jessica and Lisa stayed with Monica. I fully ensured your sisters' well-being. And your mother…" He paused, then added heavily, "She's a gold digger…"
The man rose from the table and approached the child. He gently hugged his son and ruffled his hair.
"Richie, just don't be upset by what I'm about to say."
"I won't, Dad," the boy said, glancing up at his father.
"You see, Lori was interested in you as a means of obtaining the Grosvenor money. No rich person is immune to such a fate. When my mind cleared and her deception was revealed, we had a huge fight. I told Lori she wouldn't get a penny. In the end, she gathered all her belongings, took jewelry and quite a few valuable antiques, and disappeared into obscurity."
"She didn't take me with her?" Richie asked in surprise. "I'm better than antiques!"
The man laughed good-naturedly and hugged his son warmly.
"Definitely better! Lori took the trinkets and left me with the best. That's why I didn't even bother contacting Scotland Yard."
"What was Mom's last name? What did she even do before your wedding?"
"Good question."
The man sat down on a chair to his son's right and continued.
"You see, Richie, while I was taking the drugs Lori was slipping into my drinks, I never asked myself that question. It was enough for me that she was by my side. But later, I asked myself the very same thing. After that, I hired detectives to find out anything they could about your mother."
"And?"
"It turned out to be very difficult, son. All I knew was your mother's maiden name—Cabot. Lori Cabot. The detective discovered that no such person existed. More precisely, she didn't exist until 1979. Then, quite suddenly, records of Miss Cabot appeared in the archives. It was as if she had purchased the documents. But the investigation showed that none of the officials with access to issuing such papers had taken bribes, nor did they even have any idea who Lori was."
"So it turns out that my mother is an immigrant who bought documents and seduced you with special drugs?"
"I'm afraid it's much worse than that, Richie," the duke shook his head. "Such drugs cannot be found on the open market. A serious chemical laboratory is required to create them. Besides, an ordinary person cannot forge documents without leaving traces. The detective came to the conclusion that Lori Cabot is an operative of a foreign intelligence service—perhaps the CIA or the KGB. After all, we Grosvenors are not merely among the richest people in Great Britain. We also have access to the royal family and considerable political influence due to our seat in the House of Lords."
Richie's eyes widened.
"Wow! That sounds like something straight out of a detective novel. I hope they don't pull a stunt like that on me."
"I hope so too, Richie."
"Dad, did the detectives really fail to find Mom?"
"They did. Even though they're the best at what they do. And that indirectly confirms the involvement of intelligence services. Otherwise, Lori would have left at least some clues that could have led to her. She disappeared without a trace, as if she had vanished into thin air. The stolen valuables haven't been found either. Just in case, I've increased security around the estate."
"Why?" Richie asked in surprise.
"There are concerns that your mother might try to kidnap you in order to blackmail me. So, Richie, be careful. If you ever encounter Mom, don't rush to rejoice and don't go anywhere with her. Call John and Stephen immediately."
"Who is Stephen?" Richie asked.