Chapter 464: Duke's Father

Leaving Dubai, Duke and Ivanka traveled steadily north. They gazed out from Mount Zion in Jerusalem, went boating through the water city of Venice, paid their respects at the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence, cheered in Madrid's Bernabéu Stadium, and sampled the wares at a special cafe in Amsterdam, arriving in Paris just after Thanksgiving.

Because their travels had caused him to miss the premiere of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Duke's first order of business upon arriving in Paris was to step into a theater and watch the film.

Following the success of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, aside from negotiations with Joanne Rowling, he had largely stopped investing his energy into the project. He had handed full responsibility over to Robin Grande; barring any special circumstances, the production manager would stick with the series all the way to its final chapter.

"Changing the director is imperative."

Leaving the theater, Duke didn't bother hailing a cab. He walked a short distance down the road to the Seine River, linked arms with Ivanka, and discussed the movie they had just seen as they strolled along the riverbank.

"It really isn't as spectacular as the first one," Ivanka said, tugging Duke toward an open-air cafe by the river. "At least to a layman like me, the drop in quality is pretty obvious."

They found a table, sat down, and ordered two hot coffees.

Duke took a sip from his mug and said, "This is an old habit of Chris Columbus's."

"Hm?" Ivanka didn't quite understand.

Duke dropped a sugar cube into his coffee and explained, "Chris Columbus is one of the best family-friendly directors in Hollywood, but his flaw is quite glaring. The sequels he produces often suffer a massive drop in quality compared to the first film..."

"So you and Warner want to replace him?" Ivanka gradually realized.

"That's only one aspect." Duke slowly shook his head. "He also isn't suited for the darker, more mature style the series will shift toward later. Besides, Columbus himself doesn't want to continue directing."

Ivanka nodded. She cupped her coffee mug and asked before taking a sip, "Is there a suitable candidate for the new director yet?"

"Robin and the people at Warner are selecting one."

Duke finished the coffee in his cup. He noticed traces of exhaustion on Ivanka's face.

Standing up, he suggested, "Let's head back early and get some rest."

"Yeah." Ivanka came over and linked arms with him. "Let's go back to the hotel."

Right after they returned to their hotel suite, Ivanka's assistant, Rita, knocked and walked in. Even while traveling the globe, Duke and Ivanka couldn't completely drop their work. The assistant had temporarily taken on the task of serving them both.

She wasn't looking for Ivanka. Stepping directly up to Duke, she handed over a faxed document.

"This was just faxed over by Duke Studio," she said.

"Thank you."

Duke nodded to her, and the assistant vanished even faster than she had arrived.

"Got work to do?"

Ivanka took off her coat and sat down on the sofa. "Do you need to go to the study?"

"It's nothing much, just the North America box office statistics from the past two weekends." Duke went over and sat beside her. "For Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets."

Having just seen the movie and feeling underwhelmed by it, Ivanka asked, "The box office didn't plummet, did it?"

"It dropped somewhat, but I wouldn't call it a plummet." Duke picked up the document, reading as he spoke. "An 88.35 million opening weekend, and 45.22 million in its second weekend. It's currently been in theaters for ten days, with a cumulative North American gross of 158.66 million dollars."

"That's still pretty good."

In this respect, Ivanka shared the same traits as Duke—she placed much greater value on commercial success.

"The box office is only okay," Duke said, breaking into a happy smile. "The main thing is the merchandise. Since Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was released, merchandise sales have reached nearly 200 million dollars in five English-speaking countries alone."

Ivanka suddenly sighed and leaned against Duke. Resting one arm on his leg for support, she propped up her chin.

"What's wrong?" Duke asked, gently kissing her forehead.

"My rationality tells me the film industry is a highly risky business, but all I ever see is movies making ridiculous amounts of money..." Ivanka sighed again. "I feel like I chose the wrong profession."

"Darling," Duke encouraged her. "You chose the future."

No one could guarantee what the future would look like. All Duke could do was seize the present.

Since he went to Britain quite often, Duke and Ivanka didn't cross the English Channel. Instead, they continued north, planning to experience the snow and ice of Northern Europe. However, just after they arrived in Stockholm and checked into their hotel, they received a very special invitation—someone was inviting Duke and Ivanka to be guests at a suburban estate.

"My master said you would naturally recognize him once you met," the person who delivered the invitation said.

The person left behind only this single sentence before departing the hotel.

"Do you have acquaintances in Sweden?" Ivanka asked curiously.

"Uh..." Duke thought for a moment, then shook his head. His affair with the Swedish princess had happened many years ago.

'Could this be an invitation from Princess Victoria?'

Right after thinking of Her Royal Highness, Duke immediately rejected the idea. No matter how he looked at it, this didn't seem like an invitation from the Swedish royal family.

Suddenly, Duke realized who this person might be.

"Are we going?"

Hearing Ivanka's question, Duke gave a solemn nod. "We're going."

They rested at the hotel for the afternoon. As evening approached, Duke requested a car from the hotel and gave the driver the address on the invitation. It took the driver less than half an hour to drop them off at a suburban estate.

It was a typical Nordic-style building. Judging by its architectural design, it clearly hadn't been built within the last ten or twenty years; it had to be quite old.

The car was guided to the front of the villa. The moment it stopped, a man who looked like a butler walked over and opened the door for them. Once Duke and Ivanka stepped out, he made a welcoming gesture.

"The master is waiting for you in the dining room."

The butler led the way. Duke didn't say much, simply following him forward. They passed through a long corridor and turned into a massive dining room. The room was decorated with considerable elegance and distinctive taste. Western oil paintings hung on one wall, while the opposite wall was lined with display shelves covered entirely in porcelain.

Judging by the patterns and shapes of the porcelain, it wasn't hard for Duke to tell that these weren't high-end pieces from Britain, the Netherlands, or Japan. They were from the East—likely antiques.

He didn't understand these things, nor did he have any interest in them. He gave them a casual glance before turning his attention to the center of the dining room.

There sat a long oak dining table. At the head of the table sat a middle-aged man with brown hair mixed with hints of gold. He was extremely well-maintained, looking to be only in his forties. His sharp, rugged facial features bore a faint resemblance to Duke's.

Even though the man had disappeared when Duke was just a little kid, Duke's experiences were anything but ordinary. Despite the slight changes in the man's appearance, Duke recognized him at a single glance.

"Are you surprised, Duke?"

The man's smile was full of charm. He made an inviting gesture toward Ivanka and said, "Have a seat anywhere, Miss Trump."

Duke gave Ivanka a nod, and together they walked over and sat on the middle-aged man's left side. "I am a little surprised. I thought you had forgotten about me long ago..."

"Actually, I've been keeping an eye on you all along," the man said, maintaining his elegant smile. "You just didn't know it."

"Do I need to say thank you?" Duke offered a faint smile. "Mr. Lant?"

The man shook his head. "No need to be polite."

Ivanka had also realized who the Mr. Lant that Duke had addressed was, and she smartly chose to remain silent.

The dishes were served one after another. After exchanging a few polite but distant words, Duke stopped speaking, slowly savoring the Nordic-style food. The middle-aged man maintained his elegant smile and demeanor, not saying much either.

"How is your mother?" he asked.

Duke looked up and replied with absolute certainty, "Very well."

The man paid Duke no further mind and instead looked toward Ivanka. "Apologies, Miss Trump, I was rude earlier. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Neeson Lant, Duke's father."

"Hello, Mr. Lant," Ivanka replied with a polite smile.

Neeson Lant looked back at Duke. "You've done very well for yourself."

"Thank you," Duke replied courteously, deliberately turning his head to look at the artwork in the dining room. "Your oil business looks to be doing quite well, too."

"Just a small business," Neeson Lant said, his demeanor entirely unchanged. "It can't compare to you, a tycoon in the Forbes top one hundred."

"The value of stocks is all illusory." Duke lowered his head, using his knife and fork to tackle the salmon on his plate. "How can it compare to oil and cash?"

A single stock market crash could easily cut a person's net worth in half; there were plenty of people who had experienced that.

For most of the meal, both sides remained relatively silent. Even with their blood tie, they hadn't seen each other for so many years that claiming they had any real affection for each other would surely be a lie. From the man's words, Duke could also tell that his long-unseen father had simply spotted the photos taken by Swedish paparazzi of him leaving the airport online and had suddenly felt a whim to see him.

To put it bluntly, this was nothing more than an irresponsible father suddenly seeing his famous son and feeling a bit of curiosity and interest.

"Oprah Winfrey's people reached out to me."

As dinner was coming to an end, Neeson Lant continued, "But don't worry, I've already turned her down."

"Thank you," Duke said, still maintaining a polite distance.

He had never imagined that Oprah Winfrey could actually sway this man. He didn't lack money and disliked acting high-profile. Furthermore, his greatest hobby just happened to be the Black woman's weak point. How could he possibly go on The Oprah Winfrey Show?

After finishing dinner, Duke didn't want to linger any longer, and the other party had no intention of asking him to stay. Only as he was walking out of the villa did Neeson Lant gently pat his arm.

"Keep working hard, Duke. Let me see how far you can go."

Giving Neeson Lant a nod, Duke turned around and pulled the car door open. He waited for Ivanka to get in first, then bent down and slipped inside. The car sped away toward the gates of the estate.

Duke glanced back once, then turned his gaze forward again. He knew that their paths would rarely cross in the future.