Richard held his breath, eagerly awaiting his father's answer.
"I can..." Gerald continued, "lend you ten million pounds."
- Borrow it?!
Richard's eyes widened in astonishment. He didn't know how to react to this. The boy had expected his father to give him a small sum, perhaps a hundred or two hundred thousand. A gift, not a loan! But ten million...
- Yes, yes, son, I'll lend it to you.
Gerald was clearly enjoying himself at the child's expense. He was grinning, and there was a twinkle in his eyes.
- How so, dad?
Richard wanted to know exactly under what conditions he would be given a loan.
"Hmm..." the amused Duke hid his grin behind a chuckle. "Son, there's a savings account in your name, into which fifty thousand pounds are being transferred monthly from the day you were born until you turned twenty-one. All this money was supposed to be yours when you reached adulthood. Currently, you have four and a half million pounds in the account. You can use this money, and I'll add another five and a half million to it, but..."
"But?!" Richie leaned forward. The boy's breathing was rapid. His palms were sweaty with emotion. He eagerly awaited his father's verdict.
"But on one condition," Gerald continued.
"What?!" Richard asked excitedly.
The Duke grinned and said:
- Richie, by the time you turn twenty-one, you should have at least twelve million six hundred thousand pounds in that savings account!
"Um..." Richie said, confused. "So, it turns out I'm borrowing from myself. Is that it?"
"No, son, you're borrowing from me," said Gerald. "But you'll be paying the money back to yourself, because it's meant for you."
"Dad, but if you set such a condition, there must be something else," Richard looked at his father in bewilderment. "What if there's no money in the account?"
"In that case, Richie," Gerald replied, "for the next nine years after you reach adulthood, you won't receive a penny! And live as you please. For nine years, you'll be the poorest Rich in history."
Richard felt as if someone had hit him over the head with a dusty sack. He sat there, trying to digest what he'd heard. And yet, everything had seemed so rosy at first... The transmigrator began to believe that his thinking about personal capital had been right. He was only eight years old, and his father was already threatening to cut off his funding as soon as he came of age.
"No way!" he thought. "I need to take the ten million while I can get it! Otherwise, all they'll give me later is a kick in the ass. I certainly won't waste this money, because even though I didn't study economic history very well in my previous life, I remember a lot, and after studying with the economics professor, I'm slowly starting to figure things out."
Taking a deep breath, as if about to dive into the deep, Richard calmed down and exhaled, saying:
- Father, I agree.
"Have you thought about it, Richie?" the man looked at the child carefully. "If you don't succeed, you'll become a beggar."
"No risk, no gain," Richard said, voicing his well-known thought. "So yes, Dad, I've thought it over carefully and agree to your terms."
"That's not all, Richie," Gerald said.
"Well, here we go..." Richard thought doomedly. "New terms have been introduced, just to avoid giving the kid money. Although, I'm not asking for a few coins for ice cream. This is more about buying an ice cream factory."
"So, Richie," continued the sixth Duke of Westminster, "first, you'll do an internship at my company. You'll learn the intricacies of financial management, and only if you master everything and don't change your mind will you receive ten million pounds."
"Dad, what a fantastic gift for finishing elementary school!" Richard said sarcastically. "You're nominated for the 'world's best dad' award... Who else would give their kid an office job and lend him money?! Mmm... Dad, are there any Jews in our family by any chance?"