After half a year of planning, everything finally came to fruition. Even someone as composed as Leo couldn't calm the turmoil in his heart.
In America, unless one is born waving the Union Jack or rides the wave of a productivity boom, the average person's upward mobility is little more than an endless revolving door.
Take Austin, the CEO of Iron Gate, for example—his revolving door moved from business to politics, transitioning from a high-ranking corporate executive to the head of the Housing Authority. He certainly earned less money, but he gained access to a larger platform. Do well, and you might become part of a political dynasty, a shareholder of the American Dream. Fail, and you could still step back into a senior role in a real estate conglomerate—securing your family's class status for the next generation.
Leo, like Austin, was also stepping into a revolving door in pursuit of a bigger platform, trying to break through the ceiling above him.
JPMorgan Chase was his best option.
The Morgan family—twice saviors of the U.S. economy and one of the founding forces behind the Federal Reserve. With such a towering tree to lean on, Leo could finally grow freely.
His ticket to this platform was the "golden finger" gifted by lucid dreams: a new real estate sales model, the "pre-sale" system invented by Hong Kong's Oriental Huo.
When Leo dreamed of it, Oriental Huo was just beginning to implement the model on a small scale in Hong Kong. That meant Leo couldn't monopolize the idea as his own. Time constraints left him with only two options.
First, he could quietly roll out the pre-sale model and make a quick fortune. But how much could that really be? At most, ten million. After all, it required bank cooperation, and his window of opportunity would last no more than a month.
Ten million meant nothing to Leo at this stage.
So he chose the second path—maximum profit.
Rare goods must be sold at high prices.
With Hubert's recommendation, Leo met Augustus Morgan, a shareholder of JPMorgan Chase. He explained in detail the future of real estate finance under the pre-sale model and proposed establishing a subsidiary under JPMorgan specifically for pre-sale operations. He even volunteered himself to head the new company.
The entire three-month "Broadway tour" in New York had been a prolonged audition, subtly showcasing his talents to Augustus. While he did use the time to lay traps for hidden enemies, he was mostly waiting for Augustus to complete his evaluation of Hong Kong's pre-sale market.
What were the benefits of becoming the president of a JPMorgan subsidiary?
Backed by the largest bank in America, promoting pre-sales from the banking side was far easier than doing so from the real estate side. Leo would become the partner that every bank wanted, the emperor above all developers, and the guiding star of American real estate.
In terms of money, Leo didn't take the lion's share, but he claimed all the fame.
As the pie grew, even his small slice was worth more than what he could've earned going solo.
But more than money, Leo valued the time for peaceful development that JPMorgan provided. His bloated company desperately needed to be trained into a lean, muscular beast. He needed thicker skin to withstand future blows.
With the Dutch mission successfully completed, Leo ignored the flirtatious glances from the princess, declined the American soldier's offer to drive, and personally took Audrey home.
Come on—how could he hand over the wheel just as things were getting exciting?
After the intense excitement, Audrey sat in the passenger seat feeling a bit lost.
Familiar street scenes flashed by. She sneaked glances at the handsome man beside her, then lowered her head to look at her worn leather shoes.
Cinderella had left behind her glass slipper—would the prince from across the sea really come back for her?
Disappointment.
Thinking of how her mother planned to take her to England only deepened that sense of loss.
Even if the prince did return, Cinderella would be long gone.
Wait—mother!
She had been missing all night. Her mother must be terribly worried.
Noticing Audrey's unease, Leo smiled and said, "I already sent someone to inform your mother."
What a perfect man—so thoughtful, Audrey thought.
Her family home was rundown. The war had stripped the baroness's household of its former glory. Her mother had been sitting on the front steps all night. When she saw her daughter step out of a Mercedes-Benz, smiling brightly, the elegant woman's pupils contracted.
The scene was familiar. Years ago, Audrey's banker father had stolen her heart in the same way—then vanished suddenly.
Women are naturally gentle, but mothers are made of steel. She rushed forward and shielded Audrey behind her, staring warily at Leo.
Leo understood her caution.
"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry for borrowing your daughter tonight and causing you worry," Leo said with a bow. As he straightened up, he winked at Audrey behind her mother before driving off.
"You're not behaving like a proper lady at all," her mother scolded.
Audrey paid no attention, ran to her bedroom window on the second floor, and touched the lips that had just been kissed, gazing dreamily in the direction Leo had gone.
She clutched the Chanel clutch he had prepared for her, which contained a check and Leo's contact information.
The check wasn't large—it was just for nutritional supplements.
Compared to Marlena, Leo was far more patient with Audrey—not because she was still two months shy of legal age, but because taking her now would ruin his joy.
Leo preferred the independent, intellectual Hollywood star of his previous life—not a canary in a cage.
Leo boarded Augustus's private jet to Paris.
At the Palace of Versailles, Marshal boldly announced the official launch of the European Recovery Plan.
Leo received only a dollop of cream from this massive cake—businesses in Sicily, Naples, and parts of the Netherlands.
These would yield him $18 million annually.
At the banquet, Leo became a business card magnet again, and checked off a few historical selfies—posing with de Gaulle, Churchill, and other postwar European leaders.
The most enjoyable conversation he had was with James Hacker, Assistant Minister of Administrative Affairs of Britain, and his secretary, Sir Humphrey Appleby.
All were busy men. Leo and the other entrepreneurs took the Secretary of State's plane back to America.
Since it was a night flight, everyone quickly fell asleep.
"Data on the plane is so expensive, and you're still watching?" someone nagged.
Leo turned and saw the middle-aged girlfriend from his past life—a nurturing type—nagging him. The scene was just like that flight from Shanghai to New York when he was taking her on a U.S. tour.
In his past life, he whispered sweet nothings, while his present observer-self was captivated by a TikTok video playing on his phone.
Why? The clip featured two familiar faces—James Hacker and Sir Humphrey Appleby, whom he had just bonded with.
It turned out they were characters from the classic British sitcom Yes, Minister. No wonder they felt so familiar.
As his past self swiped to the next video, both versions of Leo—past and present—became serious.
One was simply intrigued by speculative wealth; the other realized this video might just solve the Air Force commander's recent complaints.
The video told the story of future Las Vegas real estate tycoon Coco, who spotted an opportunity in the thousands of propeller planes the U.S. Air Force would decommission after WWII.
Destroying them cost more than making new ones.
Coco, being a pilot, knew these planes were still filled with fuel—and from 1948 to 1951, American oil prices were soaring.
These obsolete planes were practically flying barrels of cash.
Short on capital, Coco only bought one aircraft graveyard.
Staring at the overhead cabin, Leo, now fully awake, was thinking: at the right time, he would buy up all the propeller planes in every aircraft graveyard across America.
Not only would it make money, but it would solve a real problem for the Air Force and ease tensions with the military-industrial complex.
If executed well, he might even gain a favor from Marshal.
Even the discarded planes could be repurposed—aviation wood was still valuable in real estate.
He might even keep a dozen or so planes as collectible centerpieces in his various homes—priceless in a decade or two.
Upon arrival in the U.S., everyone was exhausted and went their separate ways.
Leo got into his Bentley and returned to a Manhattan apartment.
Noodles was driving, Hans sat in the front passenger seat.
As for Marlena—her status didn't qualify her for the Secretary of State's private jet. Leo left Lucas in charge of escorting her back to America.
As Leo got in the car, he frowned.
While bidding farewell to Marshal, the big man had whispered, "Watch out for Austin."
Big shots never speak casually—it meant Marshal had seen something.
"How deep is our debt now?" Leo asked.
Hans's expression was grim. "Enough to buy five Blue Ridge Properties."
"Two hundred million?" Leo guessed.
"Three hundred and eighty million," Hans replied.
"No wonder Austin smiled at me so strangely. Looks like he's already made his move," Leo said.
"He has. Virginia First Bank suddenly dispatched an investigation team to our credit department. The new loan manager insists it's a routine inspection, but they've frozen our loans. My gut says—it's aimed at us."
"You're not wrong. How long can our cash flow last?"
"At current burn rates for the two companies, a week—maybe."
"Any help from JPMorgan's Virginia branch?"
"They're still supporting us. Just barely. Daniel is in New York trying to negotiate loans from Citibank, Bank of America, and other commercial banks."
"Let me guess—no progress?"
"None. Three days, zero results."
"Makes sense. They're about to close the encirclement. Why would they leave an exit?"
Hans could tell Leo was taking the situation seriously—but wasn't panicking.
"Do you really have a plan to resolve this? We're nearly $400 million in debt. If we go bankrupt, you're done."
"Trust me, Hans. Let the clowns keep dancing. The harder they dance now, the faster they'll fall later. By the way, did we sign the contract with JPMorgan?"
"Yes. As instructed, Tucson brought the Western legal team to sign it."