FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

As soon as the older cats left the room, the younger cats--April, Forrest, Lucien, and Troika--were left at the table, staring at each other as if to decide on which move to make next.

"Well, that was a delightful home movie," the only female cat in the group, April, said with a frown. She had a short and fluffy tail, and her cream-colored coat looked as soft as a cloud. "Not to mention knowing for the first time that I had an additional cousin. As if two weren't already bothersome enough."

"Har-har," said the only other cat in the room who hadn't spoken out yet. Since he knew the name of his half-brother--Lucien--already, Troika figured that the cat, a male cat with black fur, must be Forrest. "You're hilarious as always, April."

Troika could feel his two half-cousins staring at him with renewed interest and curiosity. His half-brother, however, looked at him with pure disdain.

"That is, if what he says is true about being Dad's kid," Lucien said. His tail swayed slowly, showing his contempt.

The female cat stood up from her chair, walked toward where Troika was sitting, and extended her paw to him. "Hello Troika, I'm April," she introduced herself pleasantly. "My father is Dante Weissler--you might have heard of him. He's the vice chairman of this little pharmaceutical company called FeliPharma."

Troika knew that she was teasing him, since even he knew that FeliPharma was one of the most anticipated companies in the field of pharmaceutical R&D. However, the company became the subject of lawsuits and police investigation when serious side effects appeared in patients who were prescribed their newly developed medications, leading to premature death in some of the patients. According to the most recent development of this case, the settlements of undisclosed amount that the company agreed to pay the affected patients could be well into the hundreds of millions at the very least.

"Yes, I have," the calico cat said as he took her paw and gave it a good shake. "Could you introduce me to the others?"

April nodded. "The tall, dark, and not-so-handsome one is Forrest. Aunt Priscilla--my aunt and his mother--is the head of a cybersecurity company called Cyberclaw."

Troika also knew Cyberclaw, since he used its antivirus software on his own computer at home. He chose the company's software because of the raving online reviews that lauded it as the top-notch antivirus one could get for a reasonable price.

"And the grumpy tabby is Lucien," April continued. "His father is Uncle Soren--who I believe is also your father. So, that makes you two half-brothers. Uncle Soren is the CEO of Felicity Investments."

Troika was also aware of the name, since he had heard that it was one of the biggest investment management firms in the country. But when the Wall Street crashed years before, the firm was also condemned by the public for investing in risky assets, causing tens of thousands of investors to lose their retirement savings.

"Wow," Troika muttered. "Those are really...impressive."

The tall cat--he was indeed the tallest of the bunch--laughed as though Troika made the most obvious observation in the world. "Thank you for the compliment," Forrest said. He was a black cat with a long tapering tail and was as tall as Cas, if not taller, when he stood up. Despite April's unflattering introduction, the black cat was indeed handsome, at least as handsome as Troika himself could hope to be. Had it not been for the air of arrogance that Forrest put on about him, the cat might even have been quite attractive, with bright orange eyes that shone like the sun.

"But it's a given," Forrest continued, "that a Weissler must be the most successful member of any field they go in. After all, we all share genes with arguably the greatest mind of the twentieth century."

The two half-cousins studied Troika again from head to toe. Troika, in turn, studied them as well. Although he wasn't very good at guessing other cats' age, he was quite confident from hearing how they talked that both April and Forrest were older than him by at least a few years. The immature way in which Lucien behaved made Troika guess that his half-brother was slightly younger than him.

"So, what's your story?" Forrest then asked the calico cat. "How come Uncle Soren decided to keep you a secret from all of us? Was he that ashamed of his little misadventure that resulted in an accident like yourself?"

"Forrest!" Lucien hissed. "Don't you dare talk about my dad like that!"

The black cat shrugged. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Lucien. I was just curious, is all. Especially considering how we not only have a new cousin, but a very rare male calico cat at that. I've seen a lot of cats before in my life, but I've yet to meet a male calico. It's like winning the genetic lottery!"

A lottery where the only prize you get is being bullied and ostracized for being a freak, Troika thought. But outwardly he said, "I didn't even know who my father was until today, so I guess you'll need to talk to Soren himself to find out why."

"Fair enough," Forrest said. He then stood up--as it turned out, he was about a couple inches taller than Cas--and walked to the terminal at the end of the room, studying its screens.

"I don't know why Grandfather decided to make this stupid little game," April complained. "It would've been easier if he'd just given us the data and let all of us decide on what to do with it."

Somehow, Troika doubted her idea would work. Although he hadn't been with these cats for more than a couple of hours, he could sense that there was an air of distrust amongst the different siblings and cousins in the group. He didn't know any millionaire in person, but he doubted that anyone could get as rich as these "relatives" of his without the will to trample anyone who got in their way to success. As Uncle Mack used to say: "Life is a zero-sum game, Troika--for anyone to win, there must be someone who loses. That's the world we live in now."

Forrest must have felt the absurdity of April's suggestion, for he said, "I'd feel a lot safer if I'm the only one in control of it. God knows what'll happen if you pharmaceutical folks got your greedy paws on Grandfather's research."

The cream-colored cat cackled. "Us, greedy? When was the last time you donated millions of dollars to help fight hunger and provide shelter for the homeless, Forrest?"

"You mean donating for tax reduction purposes," the black cat corrected, "and only to the foundations founded by your own board of directors and other corrupt NGOs so the authorities can't track how it's spent. Don't assume that I'm such an innocent soul that I don't know that half of your 'donated' money flows into the paper companies that you've set up somewhere in Panama or the Cayman Islands. I suppose you're very good with a certain type of laundering."

April narrowed her eyes. "You should be glad that, although I could sue the hell out of you for that statement, I'm generous enough not to."

"Sure, you are. Either that, or you're afraid I'll accidentally leak out some documents that wouldn't place you in good light--to say the least."

"Do I take that as your confession to hacking into FeliPharma's email correspondences?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Forrest returned with a sly grin. "But if you feel that your company's IT security has been compromised, might I suggest you install our top-notch software from Cyberclaw?"

April put on her most saccharine smile. "Go to hell, Forrest."

"I love you too April," Forrest smiled back.

While the two cats were talking--whether it was a real argument or just a friendly banter, Troika didn't know--the calico cat went to the terminal and took a photo of the two screens with his phone. His half-brother approach him as he prepared to leave.

"Let me tell you this," Lucien said with a vicious snarl at the calico cat. "I don't give a damn who you are, but if you get in my way of claiming what's rightfully mine, you will pay for it."

Before Troika could react, the tabby cat turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

"Feeling a little entitled, isn't he?" Forrest said, apparently getting tired of dealing with April and shifting his attention to the other cats in the room. "The research data isn't rightfully his; we all have the right to claim it, so long as the correct password is entered first."

"I don't think he was talking about the inheritance," April commented. "That boy can be so immature sometimes."

Troika asked, "Is Maddox Weissler's research data really that valuable?"

April looked at him in amazement and disbelief. "Have you been living under a rock all these years? Of course it is! Don't you know anything about the Lost Decade?"

The calico cat looked quizzically at the cream-colored cat, then Forrest interrupted, "Watch your mouth, April. Don't forget that we're all playing this game against each other. Any word you tell this calico may turn out to be a hint that gets him closer to cracking the password. You don't want that, do you?"

The cream-colored cat stopped, then nodded. "For once, I suppose you're right. Sorry, Troika, but you're on your own."

The two other cats left the room without looking at each other, leaving Troika alone at the terminal. The cat knew that standing there wouldn't achieve anything, so he left the room as well.

Outside in the corridor, Buran stood against the wall and approached Troika as the calico cat came out of the room.

"Your room's prepared, and I told Herrington to take your backpack to your room," the snow leopard said. "Herrington told me that you're welcome to stay here as long as you like until the one-month time period is over. After that, the ownership of this estate will be transferred to the three children of Maddox Weissler, as the attorney said earlier."

"How did you know what was said?" the calico cat asked curiously. "You weren't in the room."

"There's a camera in the room and I was allowed to watch from the dining room. The terms and conditions of my employment with Maddox Weissler includes protecting you until your assignment is over, after all. I'll leave you alone as soon as the one-month deadline is reached, but until then, I can't allow you to leave my sight."

"Is that in the literal sense?" Troika asked warily.

"I won't interrupt you when you take your personal businesses in the bathroom, if you're asking about that. However, every other time, I'll need to be in the same room as you are, or at least within a short enough distance that I can keep an eye on you at any time."

"Well, isn't that great," Troika commented. Then, he came to a sudden understanding. "Wait... does that mean that you and I are sleeping in the same room?"

Buran's reply was short and brusque: "Yes."

The calico cat's face got hot as he considered what the implications of sharing the same room was. "No! There's no way I'm sleeping in the same bed with you! Absolutely not!"

"I didn't say anything about sharing a bed," the bodyguard replied coolly. "I'll sleep on a couch or in a chair or even sitting on the floor. I've been trained to be able to take a rest in any circumstance--I don't need to lie down in order to sleep."

"Oh." Troika's face was still warm after he realized that he made a hasty and mistaken assumption. Then, he cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment.

"Anyways! I need to know more about Maddox Weissler in order to get started on this little inheritance game. I'm already way behind the other grandchildren because they've been around the scientist all their life, while I was kept in the dark."

He scratched his head in frustration.

"I don't have a clue where to start, especially when I don't even understand what I need to be looking for."

Buran stared at the far end of the corridor. "Why don't you start at the library or the study here? You'd at least know what Maddox Weissler's interests were based on what books he kept."

Troika's face brightened. "That's a good idea. I'll ask Herrington where the library is in this house."

The two went to search for the jackrabbit butler and found him in the dining room talking to the chef about the dinner for that day. Herrington led them to a room with a large mahogany double door located at an upper floor of the house.

"This library hasn't been touched after Dr. Weissler passed away," he explained, then added hesitantly, "although, even when he was alive, I don't think he frequented his library very much, seeing how the books' positions barely shifted over the years."

The inside of the library was as impressive as the rest of the house--that is, nothing notable could be observed besides the shelves full of thick hardcover books that lined the walls. The room was lit by a series of pale fluorescent light bulbs placed circularly in the ceiling. A wooden table and matching chairs were located at the center of the room, but aside from those, there was no other furniture there.

"I've seen a more impressive layout in a local public library," Troika murmured as he walked around, reading the titles of some of the books that came into view. The books were much older than he had anticipated. Most of the books appeared to be from the 1950s to 1970s with a good portion of them written in foreign languages which Troika could not comprehend.

"Were these all purchased by Dr. Weissler?" the calico cat inquired to the jackrabbit butler, who was preparing to leave the room.

"I suppose so," came the reply. "I wasn't hired by Dr. Weissler until twenty years ago when the previous butler was about to retire, but these books were there since the first day I arrived to work. In fact, I had a chance to talk with the retiring butler shortly before he left, and I was told that all these books were delivered from his New York mansion ten or so years prior to that, so I supposed that these books were his prized possessions," Herrington then shrugged, "but I can't confirm that, since I never saw him read them very often. He was always in his laboratory downstairs."

"Are there research documents in the lab?"

Herrington shook his head. "He was very protective of the results of his research and always kept the laboratory doors locked. Shortly after he finished his final research at the request of a pharmaceutical company a few years ago, he destroyed all the research data that weren't sent over to the pharmaceutical company and emptied the laboratory of all equipment before retiring from the research business."

"Why did he destroy all his research findings?" asked the cat curiously.

"It's a requirement for confidentiality reasons, actually. After all, the companies that paid Dr. Weissler for his research wouldn't want the data to be leaked to a rival company."

Troika nodded. It made sense, and at the same time, he was slightly disheartened that there wasn't any lead to follow in the laboratory. But it also brought him relief, since he doubted that he could understand the scientific jargons on the research data even if he had access to it.

After the jackrabbit left, Troika went to the bookshelves and randomly took out a book to confirm its publication date. To his surprise, it was a cookbook of Greek cuisine dated 1955. The binding was tight, and only the outermost edges of the pages turning yellowish brown as a result of long-time oxidation despite the book's age. From this, the calico cat deduced that this book was barely read, if at all, during the half century since it was purchased.

Returning the book to its slot in the bookshelf, Troika walked slowly from shelf to shelf, trying to understand what types of books there were.

There were books pertaining to the researches and discoveries made in the fields of biology and chemistry, although quite outdated in terms of the knowledge they provided.

There were books of fictions ranging from those written by legendary authors--the titles which Troika had vaguely remembered hearing or seeing but never read because they were not the required reading in English classes--to those which faded into obscurity as they failed to stand the test of time.

There were books about European countries and their histories.

There were books on botany which included illustrated books of various plants throughout the world along with their medicinal applications.

And there were even some sheet music and songbooks gathered from different countries in Europe.

After an hour of looking through various genres of books, Troika sat down at the table in the center of the library and heaved a sigh. He felt that he was no closer to understanding his grandfather than he was before he began.

Just then, the door to the library opened and Morituri entered the room. "There you are, Mr. Valenki," the wolf said. "Mr. Herrington told me you'd be here."

The attorney walked to the table and set down an envelope in front of me and a few sheets of paper. The paper was the sturdy, high-quality type used for formal documents. Troika raised a brow as he looked up at the wolf. "What're these?"

"I've mentioned that you have a share of what remains of Dr. Weissler's assets," Morituri explained, sitting down at the table next to him. "That includes some money which will be paid out to you as bequest. Each of his children will have an equal share of this estate, while each of his grandchildren will get an equal share of his monetary assets. Those are the conditions listed out in his will." He pointed to the envelope. "And the check indicating the amount of the bequest that you are legally entitled to is in this envelope."

Without further ado, the calico cat opened the envelope. His paws quivered and his eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when he read the number written on the check--particularly, at the number of digits involved.

"Three hundred thousand dollars?" It was more money than Troika had ever seen in his life. "That's...such a large sum of money."

Morituri chuckled. When Troika looked at him, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but you were the only one who seemed to be satisfied with what they got out of Dr. Weissler."

"I guess the others weren't as happy with their share?"

"Far from it. His children were less than eager to inherit this large estate in the middle of the desert, which won't likely sell for much. And his grandchildren--except for you, of course--complained that what they got was too little for all the years they spent trying to be on Dr. Weissler's good side."

"My condolences," the calico cat said with as much sarcasm as can be included in his voice. Then, he changed the subject, "By the way, Mr. Morituri, how well did you know my grandfather?"

"Only enough to write up a will on his behalf and discuss some of the legal procedures pertaining to the handling of his estate. I don't know anything about the answer to his game, if you were thinking about that."

"No, I was wondering if you could tell me what kind of cat he was. I just want to understand his reasoning for organizing a treasure hunt like this. Everything seems so...excessive."

Morituri nodded in agreement. "I made sure numerous times with him when he was drafting his will whether he really wanted to follow through on this project. I'm not allowed to express my opinions regarding nonlegal issues, but to be honest, I thought of this game as a rather waste of time and resources. But I believe that at the basis of all this is a simple feeling of loneliness."

"It's not hard to imagine," Troika remarked. "Living as a hermit in a mansion built in the middle of nowhere doesn't really make you a lot of friends."

"Actually, it has to do with his children and grandchildren. You see, Dr. Weissler was a very reserved cat and kept his own counsel most of the times, but that didn't mean he was a cold person. In fact, he loved his family more than anything, but he also lacked the means to express his emotions adequately to them. So, they thought of him as this strange old scientist who was too smart for his own good, and the family drifted apart over the years. At least, that was what I heard from him during the few days I spent with him while working on his will."

"Then, why didn't he come meet me in Lagarra?" the cat asked. "It would've helped to know that I had a grandfather who cared about me, especially when my mother passed away."

"I can't answer that question," the wolf said. "But what I know is that your grandfather wanted to be understood by his family." He then stood up from his chair. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must attend to other tasks. If you have any questions, please feel free to call me at my number."

Troika extended his paw as Morituri gave him his business card.

"Don't worry, I won't charge you for my service until this inheritance game ends," the wolf said with a wink.

After Morituri left, Troika placed the card in his wallet and thought about what the attorney said.

"Understand my grandfather?" He frowned. "What is there to understand, anyway?"

The calico cat--and his snow leopard bodyguard--stayed in the library for one more hour leafing through more of the books he found in the library, but when Troika realized that he was making no progress, they left the library for his designated room.

The guestroom assigned to Troika had a tall window with silk curtain. From the window, Troika could see one of the two gardens that sandwiched the living quarter of the mansion. The outer perimeter of the garden was defined by the circular wall.

Facing the window inside the guestroom was a king-size bed with a mahogany frame. An oak table and a matching chair were located near one corner of the room which faced the corner next to the entrance door, and a twill settee was positioned at another corner. At the last remaining corner was a cabinet large enough to hold all of Troika's clothes from his apartment and still have extra space to fit the calico cat himself. The room also had a second door which led to the bathroom.

Troika seated himself on the settee while Buran remained standing by the table, crossing his arms. Now that the cat was sitting down while the snow leopard was standing, the size difference between the two was ever more emphasized, and Troika felt like young David facing off with Goliath.

Uncomfortable with the silence that filled the room, the calico cat looked at his watch. It was quarter past five in the afternoon, and Cas was supposed to be clocking out at five. After the excitement of flying on a plane--and a private one to boot--to attend the reading of his grandfather's will, followed by the unpleasant encounter with his long-lost relatives, Troika was desperate for someone to talk to. Without a moment's hesitation, he dialed Cas's number. The boyfriend answered the call after only the second ring.

"How was it, Troy?" came the cheery voice of the fox. There was a sound of running water in the background.

Troika found himself smiling upon hearing his boyfriend's voice. "There's so much I need to tell you, Cas. Are you driving now or already at home?"

"I'm home now, washing some vegetables. I'm cooking stir fry tonight."

"Sounds yummy."

"I was going to call you after I had dinner." The fox turned off the water. "So tell me, how did it go with your family?"

"If I can call them my family at all," replied Troika. "They care about me as much as you care for Lardy's celery-and-quinoa smoothie that disappeared from the menu just as quickly as it was introduced."

Cas laughed. "I'm sorry they aren't showering you with kisses after the heartful reunion. Are they all snobby rich felines like I had imagined?"

"Pretty much. My half-brother looked as though he was willing to kill me the first chance he gets!" Then, noticing his bodyguard's eyes widen slightly, he quickly added, "Figuratively, of course. I don't think he'll gain much from killing me, especially since I don't think I can ever win this game."

"Half-brother, as in... he's your brother, but with a different biological mom?"

"Yeah."

The calico cat then gave a short description of each of his family members, as well as a summary of the rules for the "inheritance game" in which he was taking part. Cas listened intently--he was impressed with all the big names that Troika's family represented, and he appeared just as perplexed as Troika was when it came to the strange game that his grandfather had set up for his grandchildren.

"Do you have any idea how you can figure out the password?"

Troika sighed. "I wish I did, but I really don't know anything about Maddox Weissler besides just the surface-level stuff that I learned from online articles. The other grandchildren have a head start because they knew Maddox Weissler far longer than I did, not to mention being closer to him than an outsider like me."

"But if you were at such a disadvantage," Cas asked, "why did Dr. Weissler go through all the trouble of hiring a bodyguard for you and making sure you attend the reading of the will?"

Hearing his boyfriend's comment made Troika blink a few times to think about it. "Come to think of it, that does seem strange," he agreed. "You think he somehow made it so that I have at least some chance at figuring out his password?"

"Don't ask me, I don't have a PhD in mad-scientist-psychology," Cas replied jokingly, then his tone turned more solemn. "Seriously, though, when you come back home to Lagarra, let's think about this together. I'd love to help you out. Two heads are always better than one, after all."

"Thanks, Cas. You're the best!"

"I know."

Although he couldn't see it, Troika was sure Cas was winking on the other side of the line.

After the couple chatted for a few more minutes, Troika ended the call since he didn't want to prevent the fox from making his stir fry. Promising to see Cas the first thing after he returns, he hung up, and as soon as he did so, he heard a knock on the door.

Standing up to answer the door, Troika was hindered by Buran who went to the door faster than the cat could get up. "I'll get the door," the snow leopard said. "Stay behind me."

Troika found this to be ridiculously overprotective, but he shrugged and stayed behind as the bodyguard opened the door.

Standing outside in the hallway was Soren Weissler, Troika's biological father. The middle-aged cat with reddish-brown fur--the color of which was not unlike that of the patch which covered the calico cat's right eye and right ear--stood there with a stern expression. Troika could feel his nails protracting at the sight of the middle-aged cat in his bespoke suit.

"Hello Troika," Soren Weissler said. "Could we have a talk?"

Troika had a strong urge to say no and shut the door in his father's face, but he managed to suppress it and asked, "What do you want to talk about?"

"Business." He looked around. "Can we talk inside your room? I don't want my siblings to overhear this conversation."

Reluctantly, Troika allowed the older cat inside and closed the door behind him. Once inside, Soren cleared his throat.

"Troika, I want you to work with my son Lucien to solve this puzzle that my father--and your grandfather--has created."

Your "other" son, you mean? Troika thought bitterly, but he remained silent.

"Of course, I wouldn't ask you to do this for free," his father then said. "If Lucien ends up entering the correct password as a result of your cooperation, then I'll provide you with a sufficient sum as remuneration for your service."

"How much are we talking about?"

The older cat thought for a few seconds. "Let's say... two million? After paying the gift tax, of course."

Troika's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. Two million dollars. That was more than enough to buy a house--even ten houses depending on which neighborhood he chose--in Lagarra. With that much money, he could buy a house in the more well-off part of town, away from the dilapidated downtown area that was long past its heyday, and away from the railroad tracks that made the thin walls of his current apartment shake whenever a train passed by. Maybe he could ask Cas to live with him, and start a family if they were so inclined.

But the calico cat knew that all of this daydream was conditional, only if he was able to get the password based on the measly clues that his eccentric grandfather provided. And only if that half-brother who seemed to hate him to no ends would agree to work together with. Somehow, he highly doubted that Lucien would eagerly follow his father's suggestion.

"I hope you'll agree," Soren continued. "After all, I suppose this is a lot more than you can earn at your current job at the factory."

Troika stared at his father suspiciously. "How did you know where I work?"

"I called my detective," replied the older cat. "Before I make any business decision that would cost me a large sum of money, I always consult him. He's quite skilled, in fact--in just a couple of hours, he found where you live and work. The name of the town--Lagarra, was it? With that much money, I'm sure you can move to a much better neighborhood."

"So, is that it?" Troika asked, feeling himself get irritated the more he talked to this cat in front of him. "Everything is business to you? Even me? Is that all you're going to say to your estranged son after all these years?"

"To be honest, I don't think we can really take part in a father-and-son conversation."

"I don't intend to," Troika snarled, "but I thought you'd at least give me a reason or excuse for leaving Mom and me to fend for ourselves while you ran a lucrative multi-million-dollar investment firm."

Soren sighed. "Look, I was already married to my current wife, who is Lucien's mother, at that time. Your mother--Galena--and I had been seeing each other for a few years. I found a charm in her personality that wasn't present in my wife."

"My mother was your lover?" the calico cat asked incredulously.

"Yes, but she never pressed about having me divorce my wife to marry her instead. She knew her place and the fact that I did love her as much as my wife."

"So why did you leave her?"

The older cat seemed slightly distressed. "I didn't just leave your mother. We came to an agreement, and I held up my end of the bargain. I couldn't be with her after she didn't agree to my suggestion to get an abortion--"

"Abortion!" the calico cat cried out. "You were planning to have me killed?"

"We had a genetic testing done shortly into Galina's pregnancy. It's the kind of thorough testing that would reveal all possible sorts of genetic anomaly known to cats. She didn't agree to it at first, but I convinced her to take it. When the results came out, we were told that the baby had an extra chromosome. He was a calico."

"But why? Why did you want an abortion just because you'd have a male calico as your son?"

Soren stared at his son. Troika couldn't read any emotion from his father's eyes.

"I needed to have a normal family, Troika."

He walked past Troika and Buran, who was keenly observing the cat's every move, toward the window of the room. All Troika could see now was the cat's back, but the older cat's posture produced a pensive and forlorn mood.

"You have no idea what it means to run a company, let alone a newly formed investment management firm. The clients look at every aspect of your life before choosing to entrust you with their money. They look at everything... Where you live. Where your kids attend school. Whether you go to the church every weekend. Whether you attend charity events. Where you sail your boats on your days off. Every goddamn thing."

"That's crazy," Troika said. "Folks only care if you make a profit as you promised."

"That may be true for the normal, middle-to-upper-middle-class investors who are interested in preparing their nest eggs for retirement," Soren responded. "But the clients who bring in the most cash are the 'old money' families, the ones who inherited more assets than they actually earned themselves. A single investment from one of those families equals at least fifty middle-class investors, if not more. I couldn't afford to lose even one of them, so I did everything in my power to appear as trustworthy and auspicious in their eyes."

Soren turned around, and the two cats' gaze met.

"I asked Galina to get an abortion because I couldn't allow the words to get out that I had a son who was...different."

Troika almost laughed at this statement, not because he found it amusing but because it confused and infuriated him.

"You care about your child having a genetic anomaly more than the fact that you made one out of wedlock?" he scoffed. "Wouldn't the old money folks care more about that?"

"They have different priorities from the rest of us, Troika. Look into the history of any of the male members of those families and you'll find secret affairs--which were more like 'open secrets' since their wives were mostly certain who the mistresses were--and illegitimate children like you'd read in Victorian literatures. But genetic disorder, unfortunately, is a completely different thing."

As he spoke, Soren clenched his paw into a tight fist.

"At that time, my investment firm just started up, but it wasn't going as well as I had hoped. I had good strategies in place with regards to future low-risk-high-return investments, but it didn't matter if I had no client who believed in me to invest their savings. Then, I had a chance to be invited to attend events at several country clubs through a mutual friend, and I saw it as an opportunity to infiltrate the elite community to sell myself in. And to do so, I needed to think like them, act like them, and be like them. I couldn't risk having anything in my life that they would look down on."

"So... what happened after my mother refused to get the abortion?" Troika asked quiet.

"We made an agreement. Galina and her son would agree to stay out of my life, and I in turn would provide them with restitution. I kept my promise and sent her money from a bank account that couldn't be traced back to me. Thirty thousand dollars every year, to be exact, until your eighteenth birthday, even after she passed away. And from what I observed, she kept her end of the agreement, because I never heard from her again."

Troika hastily held up his paw. "Wait, did you say thirty thousand a year?"

"Yes. That was the sum we agreed on for her to raise a child where she lived."

Troika was at a loss for words. He had never heard about such money being deposited into his mother's bank account, nor did she mention anything about it to him before she passed away. And he certainly didn't see his quality of life improve when he was a child.

Where did the money go?

Furthermore, after his mother passed away, her bank account had to be closed, in which case his father must have had to choose another bank account to deposit his child support payment.

"Who...who did you make your payments to after Mom died?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly from the suspicion of a sinister possibility which crossed his mind.

When his father replied, his suspicion was confirmed.

For a moment, Troika could not wrap his mind that such deed was possible. He leaned against the wall; his feet were too weak for him to stand upright.

Soren cleared his throat again to bring attention to himself. "Regarding my request," he said, "will you agree to assist?"

The older cat had a look of anticipation on his face. This conversation proved how valuable the encrypted data must be, since otherwise such a rich and establish cat would never seek help even from his estranged, illegitimate son.

"What do you want me to do, specifically?" Troika asked. He managed to gather himself together and stood upright again. "Do you want Lucien and I to team up and be all buddy-buddy with each other?"

Soren smiled. It was the first time Troika saw his father smile, and it irritated him slightly how similar the older cat resembled him. "No, I don't think Lucien could tolerate that. All I want you to do is to let me know when you get any clues that may help understand what the password is--or better yet, tell me the password when you find out."

From his pocket, the older cat took out a business card and wrote a string of numbers--a phone number--on the blank side.

"This is my private cell phone number," he said, passing the card to the calico cat. "Call or text me when you have something, or if you need any information which you may need to move forward with the search."

Troika held the card in his paw. "Assuming that my advice does assist Lucien in figuring out the password, how do I know that you'll pay as you promised?"

"We can have Mr. Morituri draft a legal agreement for us to sign if you're so worried."

Troika contemplated that and nodded, feeling that it was wiser to play it safe with the cat he hardly knew. The two left the room--followed by Buran who was like a silent shadow attached to Troika--and found Morituri in the library, reading some papers, presumably for his work. After hearing about Soren's deal which he suggested to Troika, the attorney agreed to draft an agreement for them.

"I'll have the final draft ready and send them to your email addresses for review," the wolf said courteously. "If you approve of the terms and conditions of the agreement, you can print out the document, sign it, and send it to me via registered mail. Simple as that. I'll have everything you need written out in the email I'll send you."

"I appreciate it, Mr. Morituri." After thanking the attorney, Soren turned to his son. "I have high hopes that you'll help me win this game, Troika."

Troika didn't know how to respond, so he didn't. However, there was one question that had been on his mind ever since he came to this mansion, ever since he knew that one of the cats invited to the reading of the will was his biological father.

"Tell me one last thing..."

Troika looked into his father's eyes, the eyes which somewhat resembled his, and took a deep breath before continuing with the question.

"Do you... still love my mother?"

Silence followed as the two cats stared at each other while the wolf attorney hastily placed his papers back into his suitcase and left the library. After Soren heard the door close behind him, he closed his eyes as if deep in thought.

"No," he said finally. "I don't love her anymore."

The words stabbed at Troika's heart like daggers, but the calico cat felt strangely relieved by the fact that he was now free to see this older cat in front of him as a total stranger. If Soren had still loved his mother, even just a little, Troika knew that there would be a part of himself which would always remember it.

The fact that these two used to be in love.

That their relationship fell apart because of one male cat's determination to succeed and one female cat's refusal to kill off an innocent life inside of her.

And most importantly, the possibility that maybe--just maybe--Soren might have been feeling even a slight bit of guilt toward leaving his mistress and their unborn son, and he might be wanting to make amends with his illegitimate son now that his mistress was dead.

But all his worries were no more, since it was apparent that Soren now considered this whole affair to be a luggage he had left behind in his distant past, not worth remembering unless it was coming back to damage his career which he had been painstakingly protecting for decades.

"I see," Troika said quietly. He walked out of the library and back to his own room. He shut the door behind him--after he let the snow leopard in, but by this time, he barely paid any attention to his bodyguard--and sank headfirst onto the bed.

"Bastard..."

As he muttered the word, Troika couldn't help but laugh at the current situation.

"A bastard and his bastard son. What a joke."

It wasn't until he felt the dampness of the bedsheet underneath him that he realized he was crying.