May 5th, Early Morning.
Five cars sped along the highway from Richmond to New York.
Earlier this year, Leo had specially ordered a bulletproof 1939 Lincoln K from Ford to protect his increasingly valuable life.
The other four vehicles surrounded his car from four directions, forming a tight escort.
"I once saw President Roosevelt parade in this very car.
It looked so damn majestic back then.
Now that I'm driving it, honestly, it's not as smooth as a Bentley," said Noodles.
"Noodles, the closer we get to New York, the chattier you become. Homesick already?"
Leo teased.
"You little brat, always one sentence short of killing someone."
Noodles paused, then added in a deep voice:
"Before I agreed to be your driver and butler, I gave you one condition."
"I remember. You asked me to look into something."
Leo thought to himself, No need to investigate further. While the details of Once Upon a Time in America were a bit hazy to him now, he still remembered the man who ruined Noodles' life—Max, the traitor who climbed to power over his brother's corpses.
In the future, Max would become a major figure.
But for now, he was just getting started—barely a minnow to Leo. Crushing him would be effortless.
Leo had once asked the Corleone family to investigate the matter.
Mike had told him he remembered those boys—Don Vito had even praised their bootlegging skills back in the day.
If they hadn't already been absorbed by the Jewish mob, the Don might've brought them in himself.
Recently, Mike had called back with a lead.
The man they were looking for seemed to be a former Teamsters union boss from New York State named David Bailey.
He was connected to the Bufalino family, a Jewish mafia group.
But as the union shifted west, so did the Bufalino family—and Bailey with them, to Pennsylvania.
Interestingly, he hadn't married yet.
Mike found this odd. He even suspected Leo might be into men.
But Leo was only worried about Noodles' personal life—after all, Noodles had been haunted his entire life by his childhood crush, Deborah, who eventually went with the very man who betrayed him—Max.
Too tragic.
Leo, softhearted as ever, couldn't stand seeing Noodles suffer like that.
Upon learning Max was still unmarried, Leo immediately contacted Johnny Fontaine, now Hollywood's most influential producer, and asked him to locate Deborah—who was still chasing her dream in Hollywood.
Thinking of this, Leo turned to Noodles and said,
"I already have a lead."
"No need to look into it,"
they said almost in unison.
Seeing the complicated expression on Noodles' face, Leo instantly understood.
Noodles was sharp—probably the sharpest in their whole group.
Had he not gone to prison, there's no way Max would've become their leader.
A man that clever couldn't possibly have missed the signs.
He just chose to stay blind—to hold on to a youthful dream instead of facing the brutal truth.
"I respect your choice," Leo thought.
But that didn't mean he'd let Max go—not for Noodles' sake, but for his own.
Leo didn't want to deal with a future Secretary of Commerce as an enemy, especially not because of sentimental baggage.
He already had enough enemies. One less would be better.
Leo flipped through the files Sean and Charlie had prepared before they got in the car.
His multi-pronged strategy had worked:
Public protests and media coverage stirred things up on the outside,
while low-level local politicians eager to rejoin the James River Association worked from within.
Not to mention some subtle nudges from the Thomas faction within the party.
Eventually, the local government caved.
In order to let Leo restart operations, they surrendered over 90 parcels of urban land across cities, counties, and towns in Virginia.
These plots were now the most valuable pieces of vacant city land—
and with American urbanization still in its early stages, their future value would skyrocket.
Leo put down the Blue Ridge file and picked up the one on Valentino Real Estate—also good news.
Just as he suspected, those "smart guys" in the association didn't use the money to buy orders but to buy prime city land.
They traded that land for orders that brought more short-term profit.
Over 40 parcels.
Heh… Leo could already picture the ugly expressions they'd wear when they realized they'd been played.
Feeling quite pleased, he put the files away.
These 140+ plots had essentially made him the biggest private landowner of valuable city land in Virginia.
His net worth was now steadily rising into the billions.
As the New York skyline slowly emerged in the distance,
Leo saw the same view he'd glimpsed on the train when he fled the city more than a year ago.
I'm back, New York.
Manhattan, New York.
A nondescript late 19th-century building had become the new headquarters of JP·W Company.
The car door was personally opened by Augustus, a gesture of respect for talent.
"Right on time," Leo said as they embraced.
"Come on, let me introduce you to your future subordinates," Augustus smiled, patting Leo on the shoulder.
That line was brilliant. The head of a new company still needed someone to "introduce his subordinates."
But Leo didn't mind. That was the agreement between them from the beginning.
Both men knew—Leo wouldn't be working for the Morgans forever.
To Leo, this was just a CEO internship.
To the Morgans, it was a trial—with one eye on Leo, to prevent him from hijacking their company.
"This is the company's Chief Operating Officer, Jarvis Morgan," Augustus said.
"Hello, Jarvis," Leo said, smiling and extending his hand.
He knew that after he left, Jarvis would likely become the successor. He was just here to tutor a Morgan heir.
But Jarvis, with a frosty face, only barely touched Leo's hand in acknowledgment and said nothing.
Leo glanced at Augustus. Given their arrangement, there was no need for this kind of power play.
But Augustus remained smiling.
The other Morgan executives stood nearby, eyes sizing Leo up.
Then Leo got it.
If he didn't put Jarvis in his place today, they'd treat him like a glorified babysitter.
But if he did—it would establish his authority.
He'd become the "master," and they'd be respectful.
Leo studied Jarvis. This spoiled brat wasn't the mastermind—it was the shrewd senior executives behind him.
They couldn't stand that a 24-year-old had risen so high, even if he was a multimillionaire.
Maybe he just got lucky, they thought.
Leo smiled even more humbly, his tone softer:
"Nice to meet you, Jarvis."
Jarvis was surprised by the humility.
"Uncles were right," he thought smugly. "This guy's a nobody from some backwater town. Didn't even graduate college. He's not fit to run a company like this."
Still, his British upbringing made him extend his hand again—barely.
The executives behind him chuckled silently.
Nothing special about this guy. Just a pushover.
Just as Jarvis was about to pull his hand back, Leo's smile disappeared.
He grabbed Jarvis's hand, twisted hard—
and with a cry of pain, Jarvis dropped to his knees.
This pampered young man, who'd never even ridden a horse without a cushion,
was now feeling real pain for the first time in his life.
Tears sprang out. He screamed:
"Uncle Augustus!"
Augustus didn't react. He stood motionless, still in the middle of his "introductions."
Leo squatted down, eyes cold as death—the Pacific Butcher's gaze silenced the wailing lamb.
"Listen, Jarvis. Your uncle asked me to teach you, so you'd better learn.
This company is called JP·W.
JP is your uncle.
W is me.
As for you? Not every Morgan is truly a Morgan."
Leo let go, and Jarvis was thrown to the ground, a complete mess.
Turning to the executives, Leo said:
"As for the rest of you—you're not even Morgans.
And yet you dared to use one as your pawn?"
"I'm just a soldier.
I killed 1,723 Japanese in the Pacific.
I may not always be kind to my friends,
but I'm always ruthless to my enemies.
And most of those who crossed me? They're dead."
"You've all made a terrible first impression.
You're one step away from becoming my enemies.
But for Augustus's sake—
I'll give you one more chance to become my friends."
"No need for Augustus to introduce you.
Line up. One by one. Introduce yourselves—Now!"
Leo's roar echoed down half the block, bouncing between buildings.
The executives, used to genteel environments, were stunned by such brutish behavior.
But Leo's killer stare and his body count had their effect.
Reluctantly, they formed a line.
"Cres Cardo, CFO…"
His voice was barely louder than a mosquito.
Leo's eyes locked onto him.
"Cres! Did you skip breakfast? Speak up!"
Almost 50, Cres turned red, then pale.
Humiliated, he looked up, trying to meet Leo's stare—then trembled and lowered his head again.
"C-Cres Cardo…"
"I—can't—hear—you!"
Leo loomed over him.
He had them line up precisely to identify the ringleader.
Cres moved first. That made him the "chicken."
Leo was about to "kill the chicken to scare the monkeys."
He had no time to play palace games with these old dogs.
"Mr. Augustus!"
Under Leo's pressure, Cres finally cracked and cried out for help.
Surely Augustus wouldn't let him be humiliated like this?
But Augustus, deadpan, replied:
"Mr. Valentino is CEO and Executive Director of JP·W.
He makes the decisions.
Speak louder."
Cres was crushed.
His pride wouldn't let him submit—but neither could he resist.
He closed his eyes. What can you do—kill me like those Japanese soldiers?
"You clearly can't work on my team anymore.
You're fired," Leo said flatly.
He grabbed Cres by the collar, used a judo trick, and flung him out of line.
"I was appointed by Mr. Roland Morgan! You don't have the right to fire me!"
Before Leo could respond, Augustus's face darkened.
"You're wrong. He does.
Now get out."
Cres froze. He'd spoken out of line—something no seasoned Morgan loyalist should ever do.
He suddenly realized how deep the rift between Augustus and Roland ran.
Looking at Augustus's face—so similar to the tyrant Morgan himself—
Cres believed it: if he didn't back down today, he'd be shark food tomorrow.
He fell to his knees, slapping himself while shouting:
"Cres Cardo! Cres Cardo!"
Only when his face was swollen did Augustus finally calm down.
"Enough. Let's see if Mr. Valentino will allow you back into the company."
Leo stared at the pig-faced man.
It wasn't just Jarvis he had to deal with—
now he had to suppress Roland Morgan's puppet too.
Augustus was giving him a message: humiliating people was fine, but kicking them out wasn't.
That's what you get for working for someone else.
Leo swore—this would be the last job of his life.
"Cres, I'll give you a chance—but I don't go back on my word.
You're no longer CFO.
You're now Assistant CFO."
Cres didn't dare object.
With reason restored, he knew full well Roland hadn't sent him here to walk out in disgrace.
"I accept," he muttered.
Leo turned to Augustus.
"The company's about to launch. We need a CFO.
I recommend Dick, head of Virginia First Bank in Pennsylvania."
Augustus raised a brow.
He recognized this for what it was—Leo demanding payment for today's show of dominance.
This guy really didn't work for free.
"Fine. But just this once," Augustus said.
Lying on the floor, Jarvis was stunned by everything.
He couldn't process the tangled politics between Cres and Roland.
He didn't even understand what Augustus meant by "just this once."
So confusing. He wished he could go back to England.
After that, things went smoothly.
With Cres as the cautionary tale, the other executives fell in line.
Whether their respect was real or fake, Leo didn't care.
As a gold-medal employee in his past life, he knew:
If you're not the boss, don't act like one.
Focus on your own growth, not the company's fate.