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Chapter 237: The Daughter Exposed

Irene's thoughts differed fundamentally from those on the second floor.

While the people on the second floor believed they were supporting Irene, many of them rushed over with their own agendas.

They thought, Who cares if it’s a beauty trap? If it works to trick Milo, it’s a good plan.  

Some were even excited by the prospect of Irene persuading Milo to open up investment opportunities for them.

You don’t know the cost of firewood and rice until you run a household, they thought. And you don’t know the struggles of the British aristocracy until you’ve been one yourself.  

This group, at times, couldn’t even come up with a few thousand pounds.

And yet this “country bumpkin” from the New World?

He possessed a fortune nearing a trillion pounds—utterly absurd.

Many believed that even if the royal family’s hidden offshore assets along Bay Street were included, they might not compare to this American.

If even the royal family fell short, how could the dukes, marquesses, and earls stand a chance?

They liked to speak of noble glory and ancestral honor, but deep down, they envied the New World bumpkins who squandered their wealth freely.

Reality simply didn’t allow such indulgences.

Especially since William Booth emphasized that Milo’s media company went public just a few months ago.

In one day, it created hundreds of millionaires, dozens of multi-millionaires, and even several billionaires.

If we could just get a tiny share of this money tree, they thought, we could escape our “impoverished lives” and truly live lavishly.  

Of course, their current lifestyle was already one that 99.9999% of humanity could only dream of.

After all, no one in this world dislikes having more money or dreams of a worse future.

However, as the events unfolded, some upstairs began to sense something was amiss.

Not all of the third-generation aristocrats were fools. Some clever ones chuckled, saying, “This doesn’t look like Irene getting the American; it looks like the American getting Irene.”

“That’s impossible!” someone protested, their face showing panic, as if their dream goddess was being stolen away.

“See for yourself,” the clever one gestured toward the scene below.

Downstairs, Irene was flushed as she downed two bottles of beer in one go. A rosy hue appeared on her pale skin, making her look endearing.

“Let’s dance!”

Needing to vent her frustrations, she grabbed Milo’s arm and headed to the dance floor.

At her insistence, the band switched from playing soft saxophone blues to energetic rock-metal dance tracks.

The bar’s first floor, though sparsely populated, soon livened up with the new music.

Amid the thundering, electrifying music, a slightly tipsy Irene pulled Milo onto the floor. She whipped her hair and swayed her hips to the beat, moving with wild abandon.

At the peak of excitement, Irene leaned in for a close, body-to-body dance with Milo, shocking the onlookers upstairs.

“This… this can’t be happening!” one third-generation aristocrat wailed, feeling as if his goddess was slipping away.

Though he had no chance with her to begin with, the usually aloof Irene had never shown such behavior toward anyone.

Many shared his sentiment, feeling as though their dream girl was being taken from them.

But the smart ones pondered Irene’s motives.

Is she acting under the instructions of the Duke of Argyll or the Duke of Cambridge?  

If so, what were the Dukes’ intentions?

Milo might be an American businessman with ties to a wealthy family—rumored to be the grandson-in-law of a Rockefeller.

But that was in America, far removed from British affairs.

Would a Duke really direct his granddaughter, a third-generation heir, to go to such lengths to please him?

Or was there something about this American that they didn’t know?

While the foolish ones lamented, the clever ones were thinking far ahead.

No matter how rich or capable this American is, the Windsor and Campbell families would never allow their most important direct descendants to get so close to him without reason.  

There had to be something else going on.

Meanwhile, on the first floor, things were heating up.

Milo held Irene by the waist, swaying with her, his chin resting on her shoulder, their cheeks touching.

After dancing for a while, both were sweating, emotions running high, and certain feelings coming to the forefront.

Milo leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Where are you staying? I’d like to visit your place for a drink of water.”

“26 Djokovic Street,” Irene replied, blushing.

Milo wrapped an arm around her as they left the bar and got into a car headed for the destination.

They arrived at a charming, elegant townhouse. Irene opened the door to reveal an empty home.

Her cheeks flushed red, whether from alcohol or shyness, as she said softly, “This is where I stay alone sometimes. I… I need to shower first.”

“Mind if I join?” Milo asked.

Irene didn’t refuse, and Milo followed her inside.

What followed was natural and inevitable.

---

At roughly the same time, in London’s prestigious Duras District, in a sprawling urban villa detached from the surrounding neighborhood, the current Duke of Argyll and Duke of Cambridge was in his study, speaking with his only son and heir, Viscount Gavin Johnson.

Viscount Johnson appeared anxious.

Moments earlier, his family’s bodyguards had informed him that his daughter had taken an American businessman to her private townhouse in London.

Inside the townhouse, it was just the two of them.

With guards stationed outside, no one knew what was happening inside.

As a father, Johnson couldn’t help but feel like his precious daughter was being swept away by a “wild boar” from the countryside.

And what father could tolerate such a feeling?

So, he was about to take his men to his daughter’s villa to stop the wild boar from ruining his little “cabbage.”

However, before he and his men could leave the doorstep, he was summoned back by His Grace, the Duke—his father.

The Duke asked him to come to the study as he had something to say.

Although he was incredibly anxious and worried that the wild boar might ruin his precious daughter, Viscount Gavin feared and respected his father even more.

Left with no choice, he braced himself and went to the study to face his father.

“Father, is there something urgent? If not, please give me two hours. I need to bring Irene back!” Johnson said anxiously as he entered the study and saw his father.

His Grace, the Duke, appeared completely unhurried. He was even rummaging through a corner of the study and casually said to his son:

“Johnson, I recall that I have a set of porcelain cups from China here. They’re specifically for brewing coffee. They were a gift from the Chinese embassy, very exquisite, but I can’t seem to find them. Could you help me look for them?”

Johnson was speechless. At a time like this, his father had the leisure to search for coffee cups?

If this dragged on, his precious “cabbage” would surely be ruined by the “boar”!

“Father!” Johnson couldn’t help but raise his voice. “There’s a situation with Irene! That filthy American merchant has taken her to her villa. Right now, they’re the only two people in that house!”

“Oh, is that so?”

His Grace remained calm, continuing to search through the corner of the study for what he was looking for.

Though his son was practically burning with urgency behind him, the Duke didn’t show the slightest sign of worry.

Only when his son was about to lose his temper did he finally speak softly:

“Johnson, you’re already 45 years old. At your age, I had already inherited the title of Duke and taken on most of the family’s responsibilities.”

Hearing this, Johnson froze for a moment before silently complaining in his mind: You were able to inherit the title at 45 because Grandfather had just passed away.  

I’m 45 now too, and I’d also love to inherit the dukedom and take on family responsibilities.  

But aren’t you alive and well? Where would I even start taking on those responsibilities?  

Of course, these thoughts remained just that—thoughts.

Johnson still deeply respected and loved his father.

Now, with his familiarity with his father, Johnson began to understand.

It seemed that his father wasn’t too worried about his “cabbage” being ruined by the “boar.”

Otherwise, with how much he doted on and even spoiled Irene, he would never act this way.

Normally, his father’s reaction would be even more frantic than his own.

Realizing this, Johnson, who had been burning with anxiety, gradually calmed down.

Though he still felt a bit uneasy, he managed to step out of his previous state of agitation and began to think more clearly.

His calmer demeanor was evident to His Grace, who could easily see his son’s change in mood.

“It seems you’ve calmed down, dear Johnson. Oh, here it is! Over here! Come and help me, my boy!”

His Grace waved at his son from the corner, seemingly having found the set of porcelain coffee cups.

Johnson hurried over to assist, retrieving the coffee set and placing it on the table as his father instructed.

“They’re a bit dirty. Go get some water and clean them up. We’ll use them to brew coffee later. Let’s enjoy some of our own coffee with these elegant pieces from the ancient and mysterious East.”

Seeing his father’s demeanor, Johnson, now much calmer, understood that his father must have everything under control.

So, he nodded obediently, called in a servant to clean the coffee set carefully, and began preparing for the coffee brewing session.

Meanwhile

At Irene Campbell’s private villa, in the bedroom...

The lady of the house let out a soft moan as she woke from her nap in the early evening.

Still groggy, Irene felt comforted by the familiar sight of her bedroom ceiling.

However, the extreme fatigue and soreness in her body immediately reminded her of what had happened earlier that day.

“Ahhh!”

The future Duchess let out a small, shy scream.

“How could this happen?”

“How could this even be allowed?”

“This is way too fast!”

“We’ve only known each other for less than three days!”

She grumbled softly to herself, a mix of shy complaints and slight surprise, but there was no anger or frustration.

After all, she had been the one to initiate everything.

In a place like England, no one could force someone from a noble family like her into anything against her will.

But was he gone?

Noticing that the bedroom was empty except for herself and the torn clothes scattered around, she grew nervous, worried that he might have simply left without a word.

Hurriedly, she got up, ignoring her discomfort, pulled a random nightgown from the wardrobe to cover herself, and headed toward the living room.

After only a few steps, she heard a familiar yet unfamiliar voice coming from the living room.

Relieved, Irene let out a sigh of relief.

Good, he hasn’t left.  

Somehow, the usually demanding Princess Irene found her expectations for him to have dropped significantly.

In the living room, the man was on the phone.

“...Focus on cotton futures. I just received a few calls—several major cotton-producing regions have been hit by a rare pest this year.”

“...It’s a mutated mite species, highly resistant to all current pesticides.”

“...So, global cotton production will likely face widespread shortages this year. Start building positions slowly; we’ll hit the peak in about three months, then cash out directly.”

Irene listened for a moment from the hallway before quietly returning to the bedroom.

She felt a bit relieved once she realized Milo was working.

At least he didn’t just leave immediately or act heartlessly—that was enough.

Returning to the bedroom, Irene quickly freshened up, picked out what she thought was her most beautiful outfit, and reapplied her makeup. She endured the discomfort in her body and gracefully walked out of the bedroom.

Milo had just finished his phone call in the living room.

When he saw her emerge, he walked over, gently hugged her, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

This soft gesture made Irene feel very comforted.

The playful Lady Irene tilted her pretty lips upward and said with feigned innocence:

“Not just the forehead—here too!”

Milo chuckled and obligingly gave her a quick kiss on the lips before letting her go.

“I’m going to take a shower, change, and then we’ll head out for dinner,” Milo said softly.

“Whatever you say,” replied Lady Irene, who was usually known for being assertive and domineering in her social circles, now softer and more compliant than a traditional lady.

Milo then left the living room and went to her bedroom to shower.

Irene sat alone in the living room for a while, lost in thought. Then, despite her physical discomfort, she returned to the bedroom to bring her toiletries to the bathroom.

Afterward, she went back to the living room, sat on the couch, and stared into space.

Not long after, the telephone next to her suddenly rang.

Irene hesitated for a moment.

She didn’t stay in this place often, usually opting to live at home. Though the phone had been installed, hardly anyone ever called.

When her family needed to contact her, they typically reached out to her bodyguards, who would pass on the message.

Milo had just used the phone earlier, so whoever was calling now was likely someone connected to him.

After a moment’s thought, Irene decided to answer the call. On the other end, she heard a woman’s voice.

It didn’t take Irene long to realize that the woman’s tone revealed a close relationship with Milo.

A mischievous smile appeared on Irene’s face as she replied to Sophie Marceau on the other end of the line, “Please hold on; I’ll let him know.”

She placed the phone down, walked to the bedroom door, and called out loudly, “Hey, Milo! One of your little girlfriends is on the phone. Should I answer it?”

“If you want to answer it, go ahead.”

Milo stepped out of the bathroom just then, his face wearing an unreadable smile.

“Another shameless flirt,” Irene muttered under her breath.

Her social circle wasn’t short of unfaithful men. In fact, it could be called the most notorious gathering of playboys in all of England.

After all, that’s part of the long-standing culture among Europe’s aristocracy!

Even she had two half-sisters born out of wedlock.

Of course, being illegitimate, they had no right to inherit the duchy, so she didn’t care much about them.

Even her beloved grandfather had several illegitimate children.

She also had a few half-siblings from her father’s other relationships.

This sort of thing was so common in the world she grew up in that she didn’t find it particularly shocking.

For people with money, power, and status, having multiple romantic partners was practically expected.

“This is on you, then!”

Seeing Milo getting dressed in the bedroom, Irene cheerfully ran back to the living room. She cleared her throat, picked up the phone, and said:

“Hello, hello? Milo said you can talk to me directly. What’s the matter?”

On the other end, Sophie Marceau fell silent.

This woman must be his new flame, Sophie thought to herself. She didn’t recognize the voice.

Should I say it? Should I talk about his children in front of his new girlfriend?

Or should I wait and call him back later to discuss it?

After taking a deep breath, Sophie Marceau decided she wouldn’t hold back.

She spoke into the phone, “Please let him know that his two precious daughters were photographed by the media while I accidentally took them out earlier.”

“They also got pictures of me, so it’s likely that the public will find out about his two daughters with Sophie Marceau.”

“Oh, by the way, miss, may I ask what your relationship with him is?”

It must be romantic! Let’s see how upset you’ll get!

Sophie smirked internally.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 238: This Is How Americans Are

From mid to late October of 1997, the entertainment world was buzzing with eye-catching news.

However, the most attention-grabbing piece was an exposé by Newsweek.

Sophie Marceau, the French actress who became a Hollywood sensation for her lead role in The Da Vinci Code, was revealed to have twin daughters, nearly a year old.

To most entertainment reporters in Hollywood, Sophie Marceau was seen as an intriguing actress.

She had entered Hollywood just two years earlier, landing the coveted lead role in The Da Vinci Code—a role countless actresses were vying for.

By all accounts, The Da Vinci Code was both a critical and commercial success.

Sophie’s performance was solid, and her screen time was significant.

After such a blockbuster debut, it seemed logical for her to capitalize on her momentum and further cement her place in Hollywood.

But instead, after filming The Da Vinci Code, Sophie seemed to vanish, leaving her fans with the impression she had disappeared.

Like a shooting star, she flashed brilliantly and then faded into obscurity.

What puzzled everyone even more was that she went into hiding before The Da Vinci Code had even premiered.

Even during the movie’s promotional tour, Sophie was conspicuously absent. Aside from a few pre-recorded video messages, she was entirely MIA.

It wasn’t until May or June of this year that she reappeared in the media, giving a handful of talk show interviews.

Yet, she still showed little interest in taking on new acting roles.

Many speculated that she had squandered her best chance to become a true A-list Hollywood star.

When she should have been in the spotlight, solidifying her status, she vanished from public view.

Her official explanation was that she had been ill and unable to appear publicly.

Recently, however, Paladin Films announced that Sophie Marceau would be starring as the female lead in the upcoming Pirates of the Caribbean fantasy epic, set to begin filming at the end of the year.

This news brought her back into the public eye, particularly among European fans, the French, and America’s significant French-speaking community.

Her undeniable beauty and her serene demeanor—a quality absent in most American actresses—kept her in the hearts of many.

In this context, Newsweek published photos of Sophie with her twin daughters.

The response was explosive, as one might imagine.

The photos—around a dozen in total—showed Sophie with her daughters, playing with them, shopping together, and even taking leisurely strolls through New York’s Central Park.

The images exuded a clear and heartfelt mother-daughter bond.

Anyone who saw them would immediately conclude that these children were hers.

Sophie herself confirmed the truth shortly after the photos were published, issuing a brief statement through her agent.

She acknowledged that the children were indeed her daughters, politely requesting privacy. However, she made no mention of their father.

Even so, the public’s curiosity about the identity of the children’s father turned the story into one of the most talked-about pieces of celebrity gossip.

Almost everyone who read the report immediately thought of one man.

The rumors of a romance between the “French Kiss” and the “American Miracle” had been sparked by The Sun after The Da Vinci Code was released.

At the time, many dismissed The Sun’s claims as baseless tabloid speculation.

But now, the whispers were louder, and nearly everyone was convinced there was something between them.

Some diligent sleuths had long confirmed that Sophie Marceau had a close relationship with a certain someone.

In fact, it was said that this man had specifically requested her for the role in The Da Vinci Code.

Given Milo Blackburn’s reputation as a playboy and his connections to various Hollywood starlets, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine the possibility.

Adding fuel to the fire was the timing: the twins were about a year old, meaning Sophie would have been pregnant in early 1996—around the time she filmed The Da Vinci Code.

Many speculated that her pregnancy was the reason she temporarily disappeared from the public eye.

Even more damning was the fact that the bodyguards seen accompanying Sophie in the photos worked for Global Union Security—a company owned by Milo Blackburn.

If the theory held, it would be a massive scandal.

Unfortunately, no one dared to confront Milo for confirmation.

Even online debates, while heated, rarely ventured into outright accusations.

Most entertainment reporters chose to tread carefully, hinting at the story without explicitly stating it.

Milo Blackburn wasn’t the man he had been a few years ago.

As chairman of the world’s largest media conglomerate, he had the power to ruin anyone who crossed him.

And his retaliation wouldn’t just end careers; jail time—or worse—was a distinct possibility.

No journalist was foolish enough to risk becoming a cautionary tale.

Even the most brazen gossip writers, known for publishing far-fetched claims, were uncharacteristically cautious when addressing this topic.

Some tried to approach the story from different angles, but Sophie Marceau remained tight-lipped.

After her initial statement, she only briefly mentioned her daughters during a TV appearance, refusing to discuss the matter further.

As for Milo Blackburn, he was busy in London, making waves in Europe. Interviews were out of the question.

On the morning of October 15th, Milo finally met the people he had been waiting for in London.

“Gentlemen, I hear you’ve been wanting to meet me. What can I do for you?”

Lady Erin Campbell, the Duke's daughter, accompanied him on a rare sunny day in London.

At a café by the Thames, Milo met the visitors.

The man on the left, with white hair—even his eyebrows were white—looked about fifty or sixty years old and was named Paul Ferrero.

His surname bore a striking resemblance to a certain chocolate brand.

In fact, his family’s wealth was built upon the chocolate business.

However, their chocolate enterprise was not just any business—it was one of the largest and most renowned confectionery brands in the world.

With annual global revenues exceeding $10 billion, the Ferrero family was among the wealthiest in Italy.

The man on the right was chubby and bore a slight resemblance to Wendy. His name was Antrelle Mouliez.

The businesses of his family included the global retail giant Auchan, the sporting goods retailer Decathlon, and the home improvement chain Leroy Merlin.

In an era when the luxury market had yet to expand exponentially, the Mouliez family was undoubtedly France's wealthiest family.

So, why would members of such prominent families from France and Italy come looking for Milo?

“Good day, Mr. Blackburn. And to you, the honorable Baron Lorne,” they greeted Milo and Erin first.

Erin curiously observed the two elderly men as they spoke with Milo.

“It’s like this,” Antrelle Mouliez began, carefully choosing his words with a relaxed expression. “Mr. Blackburn, we have a small matter we’d like your help with.”

“What is it?” Milo smiled and replied, “I don’t know many people in France or Italy, so I’m not sure how I could help you.”

“You can certainly help, as long as you’re willing,” Paul Ferrero interjected immediately.

“And what we’d like to know is what we need to do to make you willing to help us.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Milo feigned confusion. “What exactly is the matter?”

Paul Ferrero and Antrelle Mouliez exchanged a glance.

The latter gave a slight nod.

Paul Ferrero then explained, “It’s like this, Mr. Blackburn…”

The matter was straightforward.

These representatives of Italian and French families subtly hinted at the problem:

A joint venture, in which their families had heavily invested and held a majority stake, was encountering trouble in the United States.

They had heard that Milo Blackburn wielded considerable influence in America.

Thus, they hoped Milo could help resolve the issue.

Of course, they wouldn’t expect him to do so for free.

As for what form their gratitude would take, Paul Ferrero did not go into specifics, only assuring that the Ferrero and Mouliez families would not forget Mr. Blackburn’s friendship and assistance.

“So what you’re saying is,” Milo smiled, “that your company, SGS-Thomson Microelectronics, has run into trouble in the U.S. because some of its executives there were involved in criminal activities and bribery cases?”

“If that’s true, I’m afraid I can’t help. My country is one governed by the rule of law. If someone breaks the law, they cannot escape legal consequences. I can’t compromise my country’s justice system for the sake of our friendship.”

These words made Antrelle Mouliez grit his teeth and left Paul Ferrero seething with frustration.

Initially, they genuinely believed that executives of SGS-Thomson Microelectronics had accidentally violated American laws.

However, after deploying their PR resources in the U.S., they discovered the truth.

Someone in America had set their sights on SGS-Thomson Microelectronics, a French-Italian joint semiconductor venture.

The person behind this? Milo Blackburn himself.

American friends of the Ferrero and Mouliez families had advised them to deal directly with Milo, stating, “Only the one who tied the knot can untie it.”

This led Paul Ferrero and Antrelle Mouliez to personally approach Milo for a discussion.

Paul Ferrero felt he had already offered enough pleasantries.

Yet this American still feigned ignorance.

Seeing Milo’s attitude, Paul Ferrero opened his mouth, intending to make a veiled threat.

But Antrelle Mouliez spoke first, saying, “Mr. Blackburn, we’re all smart people here. I believe it’s best to address this matter directly. Don’t you agree?”

“I completely agree,” Milo nodded. “I appreciate your candid approach, Mr. Mouliez. Here’s the deal: I have a friend willing to pay $200 million to acquire 60% of SGS-Thomson Microelectronics. If you’re willing to sell, I’m sure my friend will do everything possible to help you resolve this issue. My friend, after all, carries significant weight in Washington.”

This statement made both Antrelle Mouliez and Paul Ferrero laugh in disbelief.

Milo’s offer was practically robbery.

Everyone knew that semiconductors had always been a capital-intensive industry.

SGS-Thomson Microelectronics had received over $2 billion in investments over the past decade.

The company currently dominated over 50% of the semiconductor markets in Italy and France, with annual revenues exceeding $1 billion and profitability on the horizon.

Yet Milo was proposing to acquire 60% of the company for a mere $200 million—approximately 10% of its actual market value.

Trading 10% for 60%? It was nothing short of daylight robbery.

Naturally, Paul Ferrero and Antrelle Mouliez refused to agree.

Paul Ferrero immediately replied, “Mr. Blackburn, we cannot accept your terms. While we’re open to including you in the venture, it cannot be at that price!”

Before their meeting, Mouliez and Ferrero had discussed the situation.

They concluded that Milo, known for his keen investment sense, must have recognized the immense potential of SGS-Thomson Microelectronics.

So, if someone wants to invest, they’re willing to let the other party take a share of the profits.

But there’s a limit—they would never agree to give away 60%.

After all, what would all their hard work and money spent over the years amount to?

"Then forget it."

To their surprise, Milo didn’t even bother to negotiate. He simply shrugged and said, "My friend mentioned that this is his lowest offer—$200 million

for 60%. If you’re not willing to accept it, there’s nothing I can do to convince him."

With that, Milo didn’t wait for Muriez and Ferrero to negotiate further.

He stood up, taking Erin, who was curiously blinking her beautiful, wide eyes, by the hand.

"Goodbye. I wish you both a pleasant and enjoyable afternoon. The Baron and I have matters to attend to, so we won’t stay to accompany you."

Before the two could ask them to stay, Kenny gave a signal, and bodyguards stepped forward to block them. All they could do was watch helplessly as Milo and Erin left.

As they got into the car, Erin asked Milo curiously, "Were you just in a business negotiation?"

"Yes."

"Why did it sound more like a threat or extortion?"

"That’s just how Americans do things."

(End of Chapter)