Chapter 98

Chapter Ninety Eight

Richard’s POV.

I walked into my father’s office with a sense of unease gnawing at me, my thoughts swirling with the

gravity of the situation he was in. Raymond, my father, stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the

outside as he looked to be deep in thought.

As I entered, he turned towards me, a strained smile gracing his features. “My son, I didn’t expect

you to get back so soon,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”

I offered a brief nod as I approached him, the worry for my father evident in my gaze. “Bianca had

arranged for a private plane, so coming back wasn’t an issue,” I explained, noticing the stretch

lines on his forehead were now more prominent..

Standing in front of him, I couldn’t help but voice the question that weighed heavily on my mind–a

question I was afraid of asking. “How are you holding up, Father? Are you okay?” I inquired, hoping that he’d be honest with me about how he was really doing, no matter how bad it was.

Raymond shrugged nonchalantly, an air of composure masking his emotions. “As you can see, I’m doin

just fine. It was a bit of a shake–up, I admit, but I know I’ll be alright. I just need to sort

things out as quickly as possible,” he assured me.

Sighing softly, I implored my father to share with me the details of what had transpired and explain the seriousness of the accusations that had been leveled against him. “Father, please tell me what

happened. Why are the police suddenly accusing you of drug use?”

His weary smile did not falter as he motioned for me to take a seat. We settled into the chairs

across from each other, the air heavy with a nerve–racking tension. “Let me start from the

beginning,” he said.

He recounted the events of the previous day, including how the men had arrived at the house and

whisked him away to the police station on charges of illegal substance abuse. “They claimed they had received an anonymous tip,” he explained. “I denied the accusations, Richard, and I told them I’ve

never touched drugs in my life, nor do I know anything they’re talking about. But they already believe I’ve been using my influence to distribute drugs while partaking in using them myself.”

My brows furrowed in confusion as I struggled to make sense of the grave accusations leveled against my father. “But, Dad, that doesn’t make sense. They can’t just haul you in based on an anonymous hp. I protested. “Did they have any evidence to support their claims?”

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My dad’s gaze faltered for a moment, a shadow of doubt crossing his features as he paused, lost in

his thoughts.

“I asked a question, Dad. Do the cops have any evidence to back up their claim?” I questioned.

My father let out a tired sigh before responding. “Yes, Richard. They presented evidence they came across after they had searched my apartment in Las Vegas. According to them, they found about a hundred grams of cocaine in my office there, and that’s what they’re using to launch a full

investigation. They’re also looking into our main companies and their subsidiaries to ensure they’re

not funded with illegal money.”

My eyes widened in disbelief, and I honestly struggled to understand what was going on. The thought of my father being involved in such a thing was incomprehensible, and the fact that there was evidence against him made less sense. “Dad, are you telling me the truth? Are you really not using drugs like you say?” I asked.

My father’s brow furrowed slightly. “Richard, I swear to you, I’ve never used drugs in my life, and I

don’t know how they ended up in my apartment. It’s all very confusing for me as well.”

I found it hard to reconcile his words with the reality of the situation, and to make matters worse,

the last time we spoke before now, he had mentioned that he was on a business trip to Las Vegas.

Could it be possible that my father, the man I looked up to, had been hiding that side of himself

from me all this time?

“If they’re not yours, then how did drugs end up in your apartment in Las Vegas, Dad? What happene while you were there? Did anything strange happen?” I pressed, desperate for answers and struggling

to make sense of it all.

As I was still trying to process the shocking revelation about the drugs found in my father’s Las

Vegas apartment, my father seemed a bit hesitant before suddenly revealing that there was something he had kept hidden from my mother because he didn’t want her to worry.

“Dad, what is it you haven’t told Mom?” I questioned.

My father let out another sigh, his gaze troubled. “While I was in Las Vegas, I attended a party organized by Michael Torres, one of my old business associates; you should know who he is. At the

party, I met this woman who introduced herself as a contractor, he replied.

My frown deepened as I listened, sensing there was more to the story. “Go on, Dad. What happened with this woman?” I prodded, trying to piece together the story that was unfolding before me.

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He paused, and I noticed sweat beads forming on his forehead, a sign of unease. I narrowed my eyes,

studying him intently. “What aren’t you telling me, Dad?” I pressed the tension in the air

thickening.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “I honestly don’t know what happened, Richard, and I

honestly have no memory of it. The truth is, I don’t even remember leaving the party, but all of a

sudden, it was the next morning, and I woke up to the woman beside me, with no recollection of how or

why she was there or how we got there.”

My eyes widened in disbelief at his words. “Did you cheat on Mom?” I blurted out, the thought slicing

through me like a knife.

His oice wavered as he responded, “I don’t know, Richard. I can’t say for sure. I have no memory of what transpired that night. It’s all a blur. All I know is that it was a strange and unsettling

situation, and it wasn’t the only weird thing that happened to me there.”

My mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions as I tried to comprehend what my father was telling me. Could he have betrayed my mother in such a reckless manner? The thought was unbearable and equal

repulsive.

“What happened after that, Dad?” I asked.

My father’s expression reflected a mix of regret and uncertainty. “After that day, that woman left, and I never saw her again, nor did I wish to ever see her again. I don’t know what happened or how it happened, but it was a mistake, Richard. I never wanted any of this to happen,” he admitted.

With a heavy heart, I pressed him for more details, feeling more concerned about the drug case that could potentially blow out of proportion. “What was her name, Dad? Who was this woman?”

He ran a hand through his graying hair, his gaze troubled. “From what I remember, she had introduced herself to me as Angela Montez. That’s all I know about her,” he revealed, and the familiar name I

heard was all I needed to know.

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