Chapter 4 The Hunt

Richard’s POV;

The mansion feels so empty with Elena gone. For a second, I try to remember the moments where we meant the world to each other. But that’s pointless now because my decision has already been made. Elena has nothing to offer me, but my sweet Rita...

Just then, my phone rings. It’s a call from my mother who’s coming into town to celebrate with me and prepare for this great convention. I immediately send off my driver to go pick her up from the airport. They arrive thirty minutes later.

Immediately the doors swung open, I watch from upstairs as she walks in, her shoulders held high. She scans the whole living room, tracing her hand along every furniture that she passes. Then when she lifts her head to look at the grand chandelier, she spots me standing at the end of the stairs.

“Ah! There he is,” she says, a wide smile forming on her face.

“Welcome to my house, mother,” I say as I begin to descend the stairs slowly while she’s still scanning the living room.

“The frame above the fire place... I like it,” she says with a smile.

“Yes mother. I had to make sure everything was perfect before you came around.”

She embraces me in a warm hug, one I hadn’t felt since the last day I saw her, which was my wedding day. Mother had never liked my idea of getting married to Elena, she says she’s too classless and doesn’t have much to her name.

“I’m glad you finally got rid of that poor thing,” she says, pulling away from the hug. She continues her walk round the living room, her fingers tracing a sculpted image of a vulture right before my wine place. I can clearly see the excitement in her eyes.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” I ask softly.

“It’s perfect, I’m still trying to take it all in,” she says and then pauses. “Tell me about this new woman,” she sinks into the plush cushions of the couch, the charcoal velvet fabric moulding to her shape.

“I won’t just tell you mother, I’ll show you.” Just then, my butler glides in like a shadow, holding a small, cream coloured envelope on a silver tray. The seal on the back looks familiar.

“An invitation, sir,” he says. “Delivered by a private vehicle, just moments ago.”

I tale the envelope and it feels heavy, the paper thick and expensive. My name’s written on the front with a rich black ink. I break the wax seal, the sound satisfying, and I pull out the card inside.

I dismiss the butler with a nod and wave the card at my mother.

“Here mother, I said I was going to show you, didn’t I?” I hand her the card and she reads out.

“Specially invited to the Rita Williamson convention?” she says in surprise and I smile at her, nodding.

“Yes, mother The Rita Williamson. Once these divorce papers are finalised tomorrow, I’ll be getting ready to be the new owner of the Rita Williamson Cooperation. It’ll all be in my name,” I brag.

“And once I take everything from her, just like Elena, she’ll be out of my life and I’ll have everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Mother stares at me in silence as I bend right in front of her, my hand on her knees.

“Mother, have you seen her estate?” I ask.

“You only ever get to see such wealth on the news,” she chuckles.

“Exactly, but in less than a week, it will all be mine.” I stand and stare into nothing, imagining what my new life would look like.

I soon leave my mother to her own affair and call Henderson, the head of my staff, to my study room. “Listen carefully. I need you to prepare for a celebration. A small, private affair for me and some of my friends,” I say, pausing to see that he understands.

“What’s the occasion, sir,” he asks in a low voice.

The occasion? It’s simple. Tomorrow, I’ll be finalizing my divorce from Elena. Henderson, do you understand what that means?” I lean back in my leather chair, a grin spreading across my face.

“It means every last asset her father left her, from the villas, the yachts, the art... all of it becomes ours. Mine.”

I sit up straighter. “For the celebration, I want the ’61 Laffite from the cellar. A bottle for each of us. And tell Chef to prepare that truffle risotto. The one with the white truffles he flew in from Alba last month.”

“Any other...”

“No, Henderson, no other guests,” I cut in and he leaves after my nod.

The evening comes fast and Henderson certainly outdoes himself as usual. Enormous bouquets of crimson roses and deep purple hydrangeas filled antique silver urns, their scent mingling with the rich aroma of old wood and leather. A thick Persian rug graces the polished floor, leading to a small grouping of furniture around a marble fireplace.

My guests, a small elite group of old money acquaintances begin to arrive. I stand by the fireplace, dressed in a midnight blue suit, with a glass of wine in my hand.

Lord Ainsworth is the first to arrive. “Richard, old boy!” he says, his voice too loud. “Heard something about a... new chapter,” he chuckles.

“Tomorrow marks the official end of my… obligations to Elena. You know Rita, of course. Charming girl. And, well, her late father was rather... provident in his investments,” I respond.

Mrs. Albright raises a brow. “I hear the Bordeaux vineyards alone are quite exceptional.”

Just then, Mr. Sterling arrives and I clap him on the shoulder. “Sterling! Good of you to come.

“Ah! I hear you’re about to have all,” he says, helping himself to a glass.

“The yachts, Sterling. Three of them. I’m thinking of commissioning a fourth, a proper superyacht. ‘The Sovereign,’ perhaps. What do you think?”

Sterling nods, taking a sip.

I gesture to Henderson. “Maybe we should open the first of the ‘61s? A toast is in order. To new beginnings. To prosperity and to... ownership.” I raise my glass. “And to getting everything I truly deserve.”