After leaving Dubai,Duke and Ivanka traveled north, gazing from Mount Zion in Jerusalem, boating in Venice's water city, admiring Florence's Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, cheering at Madrid's Santiago Bernabéu Stadium, tasting coffee at Amsterdam's unique cafés, and finally arriving in Paris after Thanksgiving.
Because of their travels, they missed the premiere of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Upon arriving in Paris, the first thing Duke did was walk into a theater to watch the film.
After the success of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, aside from negotiations with J.K. Rowling, Duke had barely put any effort into this project, handing it entirely to Robin Grand to manage. Unless exceptional circumstances arose, this production manager was expected to oversee the series until its finale.
"Changing directors is inevitable."
After leaving the theater, Duke didn't call for a car. Instead, he walked a short distance along the street before reaching the banks of the Seine. Holding Ivanka's hand, they walked along the river, discussing the film they had just seen.
"It truly isn't as brilliant as the first one," Ivanka said as she pulled Duke toward an open-air café by the riverbank. "From an outsider's perspective like mine, the decline in quality is quite apparent."
They found a table, ordered two cups of hot coffee, and sat down. Duke took a sip and remarked, "This is one of Chris Columbus's old flaws."
"Huh?" Ivanka was puzzled.
Duke added a cube of sugar to his coffee and explained, "Chris Columbus is one of Hollywood's best family-friendly directors, but his issues are quite significant. The sequels he directs often fall short compared to the first film."
"So you and Warner Bros. plan to replace him?" Ivanka was starting to understand.
"That's just part of it," Duke shook his head slowly. "The other part is that he isn't suitable for the increasingly adult tone of the later films. Plus, Columbus himself doesn't want to continue directing."
Ivanka nodded, holding her coffee cup. Before taking a sip, she asked, "Do you already have a suitable new director in mind?"
"Robin and Warner Bros. are in the process of selecting one."
Duke finished his coffee, noticed the fatigue on Ivanka's face, and suggested, "Let's head back early to rest."
"Okay," Ivanka replied, linking her arm with Duke's. "Let's go back to the hotel."
Upon returning to the hotel suite, Ivanka's assistant, Rita, knocked and entered. Even though they were traveling around the world, neither Duke nor Ivanka could entirely abandon work, so the assistant temporarily acted as their support.
She didn't come for Ivanka but approached Duke directly, handing him a fax. "This just came from Duke Studio."
"Thank you."
Duke nodded at her, and the assistant left as quickly as she had entered.
"Do you have work to do?"
Ivanka, having taken off her coat, sat on the sofa. "Are you going to the study?"
"Not really. Just the North American box office statistics from the past two weekends." Duke sat beside Ivanka and said, "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets."
Having just watched the film and not being impressed, Ivanka asked, "Did the box office take a big hit?"
"There's been a decline, but it's not drastic," Duke said, glancing at the data. "Opening weekend grossed $88.35 million, the second weekend $45.22 million, and in ten days, its North American cumulative gross is $158.66 million."
"That's not bad," Ivanka noted.
In this aspect, Ivanka shared a similarity with Duke—valuing commercial success above all.
"The box office performance is decent," Duke smiled, "but the real story is the merchandise. Since Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was released, merchandise sales in just five English-speaking countries have reached nearly $200 million."
Ivanka sighed, leaning against Duke with her arm propped on his leg, supporting her chin.
"What's wrong?" Duke kissed her lightly on the forehead.
"My rational side tells me the film industry is a highly risky business, but what I see is how incredibly profitable it is," Ivanka sighed again. "I feel like I chose the wrong industry."
"My dear," Duke encouraged, "you've chosen the future."
No one can guarantee the future. All Duke could do was seize the present.
Because they frequently visited the UK, Duke and Ivanka didn't cross the English Channel but continued traveling north, intending to experience the icy landscapes of Scandinavia. However, upon arriving in Stockholm and just settling into their hotel, they received an unusual invitation—a request to visit a manor in the nearby countryside.
"My master said you'd recognize him once you meet," the messenger stated before leaving the hotel.
"Do you know anyone in Sweden?" Ivanka asked curiously.
"Uh..." Duke thought for a moment before shaking his head. His affair with the Swedish princess had ended years ago.
Could it be an invitation from Princess Victoria?
As soon as the princess crossed his mind, Duke dismissed the idea. This clearly wasn't a royal invitation.
Suddenly, Duke had a guess about who it might be.
"Should we go?" Ivanka asked.
Duke nodded solemnly. "We'll go."
After resting at the hotel for the afternoon, Duke requested a car close to dusk. The driver, following the address on the invitation, reached the countryside manor in under half an hour.
The building was a typical Nordic-style structure, evidently older than a few decades judging by its architecture.
Their car was guided to the villa entrance, and as soon as it stopped, a butler-like figure came over to open the door for them. After Duke and Ivanka got out, he gestured for them to follow.
"The gentleman is waiting for you in the dining room," the butler said, leading the way.
Duke followed him silently, passing through a long corridor and turning into a large, elegantly or uniquely decorated dining room. One wall was adorned with Western oil paintings, while the other displayed shelves filled with porcelain.
Judging by the patterns and designs, Duke could tell the porcelain wasn't British, Dutch, or Japanese but Eastern, possibly antiques.
He wasn't interested in these, giving them only a cursory glance before focusing on the center of the dining room.
A long oak dining table stood there, and at its head sat a middle-aged man with brown hair tinged with gold. His well-maintained appearance suggested he was in his forties. The angular contours of his face bore a slight resemblance to Duke's.
Even though Duke had been a child when this man disappeared, his experiences had been anything but ordinary. Despite slight changes in the man's appearance, Duke recognized him immediately.
"Surprised, Duke?"
The man's smile exuded charm as he gestured politely to Ivanka. "Please, have a seat, Miss Trump."
Duke nodded at Ivanka, and they both took seats to the left of the middle-aged man. "I am a bit surprised. I thought you'd forgotten about me long ago."
"I've been keeping an eye on you," the man replied with a graceful smile. "You just didn't know."
"Should I say thank you?" Duke asked, smiling faintly. "Mr. Lant?"
The man shook his head. "No need."
Realizing who Duke was referring to, Ivanka wisely chose to remain silent.
Dishes were served one by one. After a few polite exchanges, Duke stopped speaking and focused on sampling the Nordic-style cuisine. The middle-aged man maintained his elegant demeanor and didn't say much either.
"How's your mother?" he eventually asked.
Duke looked up and confidently replied, "She's doing very well."
Turning his attention to Ivanka, the man apologized, "Sorry for my earlier rudeness, Miss Trump. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Nathan Lant, Duke's father."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Lant," Ivanka said politely.
Nathan Lant turned back to Duke. "You've done well."
"Thank you," Duke replied courteously, glancing around at the art pieces in the dining room. "Your oil business seems to be doing well too."
"Just a small venture," Nathan Lant said, still smiling. "It's nothing compared to your Forbes Top 100 status."
"Stock values are just illusions," Duke replied, cutting into the salmon on his plate. "They can't compare to oil and cash."
A single stock market fluctuation could halve one's net worth.
For most of the dinner, both sides were relatively quiet. Despite their blood relation, years of estrangement meant any claim of affection would be hollow. From Nathan Lant's words, Duke gathered that his long-absent father had only reached out after spotting paparazzi photos of him at a Swedish airport and was now merely curious.
In essence, this was an irresponsible father, suddenly curious about his famous son.
"Oprah Winfrey's people approached me," Nathan Lant said as dinner wound down. "But don't worry, I've already declined her."
"Thank you," Duke replied, keeping his tone polite and distant.
He had never expected Oprah Winfrey to persuade his father, who neither needed money nor enjoyed the spotlight. His interests were the polar opposite of the talk show queen's strengths, making it impossible for him to appear on The Oprah Winfrey Show.
After dinner, Duke had no intention of lingering, nor did Nathan Lant attempt to detain him. As Duke left the villa, Nathan lightly patted his arm.
"Duke, keep pushing forward. Let me see how far you can go."
Duke nodded, opened the car door, and waited for Ivanka to get in before climbing in himself. The car sped toward the manor gates.
Turning to look back briefly, Duke then faced forward again, knowing their paths would rarely cross in the future.