At the Richmond IRS branch:
Bam! Bam bam!
Vik, his fists coiled like a boxer's, pounded Hans, whose mouth was muffled by a towel, forcing only muffled groans. After a while, breathless, Vik signaled his men. Two agents stepped forward and stripped the thick address book strapped to Hans. This method left no surface wounds—painfully effective without leaving forensic evidence. Vik wasn't afraid of Leo; he just didn't want Hans' testimony thrown out in court for visible injuries.
Grabbing Hans by the jaw, he lifted his bowed head and snarled: "If you'd kept your mouth shut that day, you wouldn't be suffering now! We've investigated—you're not some war hero Leo saved. No reason to sacrifice yourself for him! Listen: your boss is done. People far bigger than you want him dead! But testify—help us—and the day Valentino goes to prison will be the day you become a millionaire!"
Three brutal days of interrogation had driven Hans to near incoherence. Vik's offer tempted him—after all, Hans had no real bond with Leo and could sell him out. But orphaned by circumstance, Hans grew up knowing promises easily taken back. A million one day, a staged "accident" the next. The only reason he endured was Leo: only Leo had ever given him hope.
Spitting a mouthful of blood on the floor, Hans responded defiantly.
Vik barked: "Tie him down, keep beating him!"
Bam bam! The beatings continued. Vik rubbed his hands in blood and taunted, "You think staying silent makes you strong? What about Daniel—will he believe your silence? Maybe he'll flip to save himself. You're making the wrong choice!"
Then Vik left Hans and swaggered to Daniel's room, where agents had blasted light to break his sleep. "Enough—turn off the lamp. The pretend tough guy next door broke. Let our hero get some sleep…if he survives prison."
One agent mocked Daniel: "If Hans is out as a witness, you're going down. Thanks to your fortune, though, our budget's secure."
Vik and his men left. They counted to five—then ten. But Daniel remained quietly defiant. Vik froze, then turned back. Daniel's sardonic calm greeted him: "Can't sleep me? Add more days. I'm fine. And I've killed enough—ask me what human blood tastes like."
At dawn, Leo received a report from Jesse listing all the major players involved. Even Leo, confident to the core, felt a chill. Especially James Roosevelt—why did he want Valentino dead? Jesse reminded Leo that Roosevelt clashed with Truman within the party. Leo realized: other than the Cotton family core, the Chicago syndicate and MacArthur's camp had also lined up. A shared target becomes a potent glue among the ambitious.
Now that so many powers opposed him, Leo needed to be transparent with Augustus. He called Morgan's shareholder:
"Ha! Your fears are needless—thank you!" Augustus laughed. "Gavin's been subverting the family since his father passed. This whole mess exposes him. As for Citibank and MacArthur—we don't need to worry about saving face. Only Roosevelt matters—his father's legacy looms large. I suggest you call Truman—especially since you gave him $1.5 million. Irrelevant or not, it's your leverage. In America, money is power! Remember: under a hundred multimillionaires exist here. Citibank's Reston is in your financial tier. If you don't own your identity soon, that insecurity will kill you. I learned a Chinese word in Hong Kong— 'xin mo', heart demon. Mine is waxing—but tonight's success will exorcise it. With your wealth and skill, few can scare you. So go forth—be limitless, my friend."
That verdict pierced Leo. He reflected: Augustus may not have his courage or looks, but his vision towered above. A wise man once said: the bigger the ambition, the larger the stage. Augustus' words hit like revelations—awakening and empowering.
Leo called Truman next. Truman's chief of staff answered immediately. Within minutes, Truman himself called back.
"Understood, Leo. Thanks for supporting me. I'm sorry you're facing issues. I didn't know you and Augustus were so entwined. Please fight back boldly—I'll support you within the party. Next time, call me first. You've earned that relationship. When this is over, come to the White House—I'm interested in your 'pre‑sale' model. You've always been a backer—you'll be rewarded."
Leo hung up. Sunrise streamed through the office. He straightened his collar in the mirror, ambition shining.
Stepping through his front door, he found a gathering in the yard. At front stood a man dressed like Hubert. Catching Leo's gaze, he patted a satchel under his arm, removed his hat and bowed: "Respectful greetings, Mr. Valentino. Mr. Morgan sent me—my name is Norton Brooks, his personal secretary. All documents have been reviewed with your counsel."
Leo nodded his thanks. Nearby, Tucson appeared with his elite legal team from the West, smiling brightly. Lucas, just now learning of Leo's grand plans, looked radiant. Others—Sean, Charlie, Joseph, Kevin—stood ready. These founding members would rally the troops and expand once victory was secured.
William held the car door as Leo emerged. Leo raised his hand and proclaimed boldly, "Let's go! I'll bring back victory—and a new chapter of wealth for us all!"
The convoy set off; Kevin, Lucas and the team headed to the company, while Leo, Tucson's legal team, and Norton traveled to the Morgan Virginia branch.
As they approached, Leo said, "Norton, come up in thirty minutes."
Norton nodded, clearly understanding the plan. Ready to play the part and astonish.
At the bank, the usher was Benjamin. He smirked: "Leo—jumped ship to Morgan, I see? Follow me to the meeting room: your old friends await."
He swaggered off, boasting: "Glad you didn't take Austin's deal. I'm curious to see you go from millionaire to bankrupt. Love your Bentley—and your driver. Yas, I'll take them both. But lawyers won't stop you from being insolvent."
Leo glared at the annoying pest—he'd be crushed tomorrow, swiftly.
With familiar confidence, Leo led Tucson's team up to the second-floor boardroom. Door opened—just as Benjamin promised: many "old friends" greeted Leo with smiles.
Leo responded with a sincere smile of his own: after all, these are the people who, in half an hour, will not only offer emotional support but also bring him wealth for life.