"As compensation for scaring me today… you're taking me to the movies tomorrow."
That evening, outside the Brown estate, Emily nestled into Leo's arms and whispered sweetly.
"No problem."
Leo had just replied when a sharp shriek interrupted them:
"Emily!"
A woman stormed out of the estate. She bore a strong resemblance to Emily—it was her mother, Mrs. Brown.
Furious, Mrs. Brown yanked Emily away from Leo.
"No sense of propriety at all! Embracing a street boy outside our gates—have you no shame? You've disgraced the family name!"
"Mom! He's Leo—not some street boy!"
"Emily! Is this how I raised you? Talking back to your mother?"
Behind Mrs. Brown, a man stepped forward. Handsome, but with a certain effeminate arrogance—Jack Brown.
"And you, Jack—the gambling parasite—are you really going to lecture me on manners?"
"You—!"
Jack, stung by her words, raised his hand to strike his sister—but before he could, his wrist was caught in a vice-like grip.
Leo squeezed, and Jack's face contorted in pain as if electrocuted. He slumped to his knees.
"Let me go—ah! You're breaking my hand! Let go!"
Hearing her son's cries, Mrs. Brown rushed forward and tried to pull Leo off—but her strength was no match.
"Emily! Tell him to stop—he's hurting your brother!"
Looking at Jack's twisted, pained expression, Mrs. Brown turned anxiously to her daughter.
"He's Leo Valentino, mother. Maybe you should ask him yourself."
Mrs. Brown glanced at Leo. A flicker of disdain crossed her eyes—but hearing her son's screams, she swallowed her pride.
"Mr. Valentino, please let go of Jack."
Leo ignored her. Only when Emily nodded did he release Jack, who immediately collapsed to the ground.
Leo looked down coldly at the whimpering Jack and said:
"Jack—try treating your sister better."
Without sparing another glance, he nodded to Mrs. Brown and turned back to Emily.
"Tomorrow at the cinema. Don't be late."
—
Back home, Leo found his younger siblings still at the kitchen table doing homework. Maria was consoling Ricardo on the couch. The man, despite his earlier bravado, was clearly affected by stepping down as union leader.
Leo left them their space and returned to his room—where a certain someone was still tied to a pillar.
As Leo walked in, Turner, who had been bound for hours, writhed in desperation. His legs were shaking furiously. With a gag in his mouth, all he could do was moan pleadingly.
He was at his limit.
Leo untied the ropes. Turner leapt out the window and dashed into the yard, relieving himself like a long-suffering prisoner.
Zipping up with a blissful sigh, Turner turned around—only to find Leo towering over him.
"You're useless, Turner. You botched the job. Carlo's probably looking everywhere for you.
So shut your mouth—and get lost."
—
Meanwhile, Carlo was in the office of his hideout factory, hurling insults at Johnny.
"You idiot! And now you're telling me your so-called expert has gone missing?!"
Johnny clenched his fists again, his hatred for Carlo deepening.
But this time, it was indeed his failure. The man he had recruited from another town—Aiken—had vanished.
"Boss Johnny! We found him!"
A lackey burst in.
Carlo and Johnny's eyes lit up. They asked in unison:
"Where is he?!"
"At the Noodles restaurant."
Carlo glanced at the clock and scowled.
"It's this late and he's still eating? Go get him!"
The lackey looked uneasy.
"I don't think he's coming back, boss. He's badly injured—totally out of it."
"Impossible!" Johnny exclaimed. "I've seen that man take on seven or eight people at once. Who could've done this to him?"
"What's the point now?" Carlo spat. "He's useless—let him rot. Johnny, go find someone else for tomorrow's job. If you can't—then you're doing it yourself.
And if it fails… we'll both be dead!"
—
The next morning, Leo made breakfast for his family. After a wave of harsh criticism from everyone, he left the house.
The movie with Emily was scheduled for 1 PM. That morning, Leo planned to visit several banks to apply for a loan—and see if it was as difficult as Charlie and others claimed. He also wanted to visit a jewelry store to discreetly sell some gold.
There were five banks in Lynchburg. The biggest were Virginia First Bank and AmeriBank. Then came Campbell Bank, since Lynchburg belonged to Campbell County. The remaining two were small community banks.
Two hours later, Leo walked out of AmeriBank—not looking pleased. After a full morning of rejection, he was understandably annoyed.
Just like Fox had warned, all five banks had essentially the same response: they'd accept the application—but had no idea when the loan would be approved.
At Virginia First, the friendliest of the bunch, the clerk had told Leo that they hadn't even finished reviewing early-year veteran applications.
Leo quickly reviewed everything he'd seen and heard that morning. A plan formed.
He walked briskly to a restaurant opposite Campbell Bank and sat down to observe.
Around lunch, a young woman left the bank and entered the small hotel next door. Ten minutes later, Campbell Bank's manager, Dieter, emerged, glanced around furtively, and slipped into the same hotel.
At that moment, Leo jumped up from his seat, looking excited.
He tucked a folder—taken earlier that morning from Campbell Bank—under his arm and rushed into the hotel.
He approached the receptionist and said:
"I have an urgent document from HQ that needs Manager Dieter's immediate signature. I just saw him come in. Which room is he in?"
The girl looked at Leo, then at the folder.
"Second floor, last room on the left. If you hurry, you might catch him in the hallway."
"Thanks."
Leo bolted toward the stairs. But once he entered the stairwell, his pace slowed.
The hotel was quiet at noon. He crept to the end of the hall and leaned against the wall.
Soon, rustling sounds came from the room—clothes falling, then the creak of a bed.
"Showtime," Leo muttered.
He pulled a tiny camera from his pocket—a gift from a Navy intelligence officer he'd once saved. He'd planned to use it to photograph his date with Emily… but this opportunity was too good.
Just as Leo readied the camera, the creaking stopped.
"Damn, even faster than last time."
With practiced ease, Leo pulled a wire from his sleeve and picked the lock. Two flicks—and the door swung open.
Click. Click. Click.
The room was dim, the curtains drawn. Two white, fleshy forms were tangled on the bed. Dieter, basking in the post-coital glow, shrieked and tumbled to the floor.
He landed with a thud, naked and horrified.
When he saw Leo holding the camera, his expression collapsed.
And then recognition dawned—
It was Leo Valentino, the same man he had mocked mercilessly that very morning.