CHAPTER 346: PLEASE—LEAVE ME OUT OF THIS

Richard was a bit skeptical about the question, to be honest. Would he admit he knew the future? Of course not.

He let out a light chuckle. "Haha... pardon me, sir, but honestly—my connection to all this isn’t quite as deep as you might think."

"Is that so?"

’If what he said was true, then to think he could build such a big company at such a young age...’

Earl Spencer raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Richard, really—I’ve already told you, just call me Charles. Still going with ’sir’? Are you that formal with everyone?"

"Ah, it’s just that..." Richard began, then hesitated.

Seeing this, Earl Spencer sighed. "So be it then," He said, waving his hand lightly before taking a seat in Richard’s office.

There was a brief pause—the kind that hung in the air when someone was searching for the right words.

"To be honest with you," he began, his voice a touch softer now, "there’s still something I need to bring up. I know—it’s a little awkward, especially after everything you’ve already done for me and my sister. You’ve gone above and beyond, and for that, I’m truly grateful."

He glanced down for a moment, gathering himself. "But even so... I couldn’t keep this to myself."

And when Earl Spencer finally said what kind of favor he meant, Richard was taken aback.

"Borrow money? A bank loan?"

"Yes," Earl Spencer replied calmly. "Before the end of the month, a company will provide a £5 million loan to our family trust fund to repay the principal on the loan from Northrock Bank. As for the interest, I believe our family trust fund should be able to manage it. The company providing the loan will also be registered under my name—"

"Wait, wait, wait, sir," Richard interrupted, holding up a hand. "Northrock Bank? Do you mean I’m not the first? With all due respect, sir... are you saying you’ve borrowed money from other companies to pay off the bank loan? Have you calculated the difference in interest rates between the two?"

Hearing the word debt from Earl Spencer brought back memories for Richard.

Charles Spencer had inherited the Althorp estate in Northamptonshire after his father’s death in 1992. Like many aristocratic estates in the UK, maintaining a historic property of that size—13,000 acres—was enormously expensive. Because of this, it wasn’t uncommon for British aristocrats to face cash flow problems, weighed down by maintenance costs, taxes, and limited liquid assets.

Over the years, quiet mismanagement and rising obligations tied to the upkeep of Althorp and various family responsibilities had left Earl Spencer entangled in a growing web of private loans and discreet restructuring deals.

The £5 million loan Richard had just heard about? It wasn’t the first—and, truthfully, it might not be the last.

But it wasn’t that Richard didn’t want to lend him the money. In fact, it was quite the opposite.If he could lend a hand to this man—even in a small way—then Richard truly wanted to help.

Though he has to be honest about some controversies—like many individuals in the public eye—he is, in truth, a figure with admirable qualities. His dedication to Diana’s legacy, especially his defense of her humanity and independence from royal institutions, stands out, as does his involvement in various philanthropic initiatives, particularly those focused on youth development, history, and heritage conservation.

Of course, at the end of the day, the main reason Richard wanted to help—more than anything—was because of his deep respect for the late Princess Diana.

Richard then heard Earl Spencer sigh. ’How many times has he sighed already?’ He wondered to himself.

"To be honest with you," Earl Spencer said, "if I relied solely on managing the manor to raise money, I think it would take far too long—maybe it wouldn’t happen at all..."

Richard nodded politely, not giving too much thought to what he assumed was just more of Earl Spencer’s rambling.

"That’s why," Earl Spencer continued, "when I looked into your investment company—Maddox Capital—I started getting interested in stepping into the investment world myself. I heard rumors that your company generates around twenty million pounds a year."

He glanced at Richard, clearly trying to read his expression.

But he had the wrong guy.

"Twenty-six million," Richard corrected calmly. "And yes... it’s probably going to rise to thirty soon."

"..."

The honesty in Richard’s tone left Earl Spencer speechless. And in that moment, he quietly made up his mind.

He had long planned to make financial investment one of his core businesses. But in this field, he was still alone—he lacked a capable partner, or at the very least, a seasoned advisor to guide specific investment operations.

The family trust fund focused mostly on traditional industries, with almost no connection to modern financial markets. More importantly, Richard intended to use his personal capital to register a new company—one completely separate from the trust—specifically as a dedicated investment entity.

At the beginning, Earl Spencer had planned to meet with the creditors of the family trust fund—after carefully preparing a strategy to resolve its current debt problem of approximately £5 million. However, an unexpected conversation with his sister changed his mind. Especially after meeting with the bank representatives in London—he definitely changed his mind after witnessing their attitude.

Most of the creditors tied to the family trust were originally connected to his late father, not to him directly. Many of them were fellow aristocratic estates that had maintained frequent dealings with the family over the years.

Determined, Earl Spencer began contacting each creditor personally—using the old address book provided by the family butler from his father’s time.

In every call, he assured them that all outstanding debts would be settled within the year. And to compensate for the delays, he promised to pay interest at a rate even higher than a standard bank loan.

Those people accepted his statement.

Many of them had attended the funeral of Viscount Althorp, his father, and he still remembered them clearly. He even said he would visit them in person to express his gratitude.

In truth, not to mention the end of the year—he could have paid off these debts immediately if he wanted to. There was no real pressure when it came to settling the bank loan. However, since he planned to allocate funds for future financial investments, he decided to postpone the repayment deadline. To ease concerns, he had offered to pay interest even higher than the bank’s rates.

But now... everything had changed... Or rather—doubt had begun to creep in.

All of this brings back memories.

"They’re watching me, Charles," she had said, barely above a whisper. "I know it sounds mad, but sometimes I feel like I’m being steered toward something. Controlled. Like I’m not supposed to make it through this."

He had furrowed his brow, concerned but skeptical.

"You need rest, not fear. You’ve been under siege for years, Di. Anyone would start seeing ghosts."

She had smiled then—but it wasn’t the smile he remembered from their youth. It was half-forced, shadowed with exhaustion.

"You think I’m paranoid," she said, looking out the window. "But if anything happens to me, just know it wasn’t an accident. Promise me, Charles—don’t let them spin it into something neat and forgettable."

He had brushed it off at the time, told her she was safe, told her she was loved. But after Paris, after that tunnel, after the sirens—those words echoed louder than ever.

And now, he couldn’t go back.

’If only—’

The earl stopped.

That regret never needed to be spoken aloud—it was always there, between the pauses, in the sighs, and in the silences that followed her name. Not because he believed in the conspiracy, but because the fear in her handwriting had been real. And he hadn’t been able to protect her.

Back to the present moment—

Just as Richard was about to agree to Earl Spencer’s proposal, the Earl suddenly said something that shook him to his very core.

"What if I told you that my sister’s accident... wasn’t an ordinary accident? What if it was a plan to eliminate her?"

"..."

The sting of what if was sharp enough to make his head spin. The words echoed louder than they should have—not because of volume, but because of implication.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Richard froze.

What made people like Richard afraid the most... wasn’t violence. It wasn’t failure. It was politics.

Politics in its darkest form—the kind hidden behind smiles, luxury cars, and bulletproof glass. The kind that didn’t kill with guns, but with deniability. That reduced a life to a news cycle. That erased truth with carefully chosen silence.

He didn’t know whether to respond with skepticism or sympathy.

So he could only say, softly, "Charles, you—"

’If I call you Charles,’ he wanted to say, ’then could you promise me not to involve me in this?’

Richard almost laughed—or cried—to himself. Because deep down, he already knew:

It was a pointless case.

Not because it lacked weight, or because the truth didn’t matter—but because, in this world, the truth was powerless without permission.

What good would the truth do now?

Who would listen?

Who would dare act on it?

Even if there were a truth to uncover, it would come at a price—one he wasn’t sure he, or Charles, the current Earl Spencer could afford.