"Mr. Valentino, we've traced it back. The former executive who leaked your company's internal secrets is Iverson Martin—the same guy you knocked down in the company plaza before," Turner's voice came through the phone.
Since he was caught at Leo's casino and helped Leo film the explosive footage of Crete and his daughter-in-law, Turner had been recruited. Under Leo's orders, he opened a detective agency to investigate matters Leo wanted to know about. This time, Turner once again proved his worth.
"Come to New York. We need you here more. Also, investigate who is the editor-in-chief of The Washington Post, specifically targeting me," Leo said.
"Understood, sir."
After ending the call with Turner, Leo immediately dialed Aldo. Although Aldo was just a salesperson now, he still handled contacts with various gangs.
"Iverson Martin. Send him to meet God."
"Received, boss."
In Richmond, inside a suburban house in the Monroe Park area, Iverson entered carrying gifts for his wife and children.
Since losing his job, he had started drinking heavily again, beating his kids frequently, and even recently assaulted his wife. But now, all that was over. A reporter had not only given him a large sum of money but also offered him a job opportunity in Washington D.C. What he had to pay in return was leaking some insider information about Valentino Real Estate.
This was hardly a sacrifice—after all, it was sweet revenge for the humiliation Valentino had dealt him. Iverson embellished his story as he hurried home, imagining the cheers of his wife and kids.
"Iverson!"
A strange voice called out. Instinctively, Iverson turned around, his pupils dilating as he saw a man wearing a trench coat and hat pulled low, face obscured, raise a revolver.
Bang bang bang!
At a plaza near the New York Academy of Performing Arts, a crowd had gathered, chanting:
"Say yes, say yes!"
A confession was underway.
Oliver Connor, the academy's top male student who had already been cast as the male lead in a new Broadway show, was kneeling on one knee, holding flowers and gazing earnestly at Grace Kelly.
Grace, with a displeased expression, said:
"Oliver, sorry, I already have a boyfriend."
Prepared for rejection, Oliver replied:
"Grace, you did once, but that wealthy admirer hasn't appeared for half a year. Clearly, that playboy has abandoned you."
Oliver's words stabbed deep, and Grace was powerless to refute because Leo had indeed disappeared without a trace.
Her silence gave Oliver hope, and he pressed on:
"Promise me. We're both actors and can support each other's careers. We're perfect for each other! Someday, we can go to Hollywood together to chase our ultimate dreams."
He gestured to the crowd to cheer louder. Victory was in sight.
Grace looked at Oliver—the most handsome boy in their academy. Though good-looking, he was too effeminate, lacking any masculine charm. He had none of Leo's unique aura that blended dominance with gentleness.
Realizing this, Grace coldly said:
"Sorry, Oliver, I can't accept."
Oliver, who changed girlfriends as easily as changing clothes, was furious that half a year of effort was wasted. He sneered viciously:
"You're just a rich man's toy. Don't think you're so noble! Acting all high and mighty here. The rich guy isn't coming back. Stop dreaming, fool. To him, you're just a one-time plaything!"
Grace Kelly, raised in high society, was hearing such vulgar language from the lower class for the first time. Humiliated and unable to reply, tears fell. Oliver's cruelty only grew, fueled by her tears.
Suddenly, an angry voice shouted:
"Oliver!"
Oliver turned to see the academy's dean, furious, storming toward him. Beside the dean stood a handsome young man, coldly staring at Oliver.
Oliver, born from the lower class, quickly realized the dean's admiration for him—otherwise, he wouldn't have been given the precious lead role. His expression turned from arrogance to fearful guilt:
"Dean, I was wrong. I just lost control after being rejected. I really like Grace. I care about her too much."
The dean, frustrated but not wanting to punish his favorite student, said sternly:
"No matter how much you like her, you can't insult a lady like that. Apologize to Grace immediately."
As Oliver was about to apologize, the man beside the dean spoke:
"Is this the education at your academy? Using such vile language to insult a woman of good background? If apologies were enough, why bother with the law?"
Seeing the dean's face darken, Oliver sensed trouble and snapped at the man:
"Who are you? What right do you have to order us around here?"
Oliver's words made the dean's face change dramatically. Just as the dean was about to explain, the man sneered at Oliver:
"Let me introduce myself: I'm Leo Valentino, the boyfriend of the lady you just insulted. As for whether I have the right—well, that depends on your dean. But right now, I'm very disappointed your academy has someone like you. I'm leaning toward saying you don't."
Leo's words sparked awe from the crowd:
"That's him! The youngest billionaire!"
Oliver rarely paid attention to politics. Hearing that Leo was a billionaire stunned his mind blank. He didn't see his teacher's face, dark with anger.
Yesterday, the dean's media contacts had told him someone wanted to invest in his struggling academy. Though suspicious at first, he recognized the visitor as the rising star, Mr. Valentino. They had been discussing the investment while touring the campus when this unexpected confession occurred.
When Leo said he was Grace's rich boyfriend, the dean finally understood the investor's motive.
The dean, a sharp man, knew exactly what Leo meant.
He turned to the stunned Oliver:
"You're expelled!"
"Dean, I—"
Usually eloquent, Oliver was now speechless. He knew that after all his worldly experiences, he could not return to his poor hometown.
He dropped to his knees before Leo, humbly begging:
"Mr. Valentino, I was wrong. I'm trash, a bitch, a fool. Please forgive me."
As he spoke, he slapped his own face wildly.
The sight reminded Leo of Benjamin, torn apart and broken. Both were proud, snobbish men trying to atone through self-abuse.
Leo had only intended to shame Oliver but now didn't want a petty man to keep bothering him. Maybe the Atlantic Ocean would be Oliver's final destination.
"I won't invest in an academy with such students," Leo's cold voice passed final judgment.
The dean told Oliver:
"Leave, Mr. Oliver. Your lead role is also revoked."
"No! You can't decide my fate so easily!"
Oliver's desperate shout was cut off by guards who dragged him away.
"Dean, as agreed, I'll invest. I heard you have a new play. I suppose it needs a female lead?" Leo's words initially pleased then puzzled the dean. Seeing Grace staring dreamily at Leo, he realized the connection.
"Yes, Valentino. My new play does need an outstanding actress like Grace."
Leo ignored the dean and approached Grace, taking out a silk handkerchief to wipe her tears. Then, he said calmly:
"Get in the car. Come with me."
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the academy. Grace, shocked, followed with a smile. No tender words, only cold orders! So domineering—but she liked it.
After Grace's shopping spree, her mood completely lifted. She greeted Noodles cheerfully and asked Leo:
"Buy me a dress? Is there a banquet tonight?"
"Yes, an important banquet."
The car left New York City, heading toward Long Island.
Tonight, the Corleone family mansion was brilliantly lit. The banquet was both a farewell party and an Eastern Italian Mafia power transition ceremony.
Thanks to media coverage, all Italians in the East knew a young billionaire had emerged among their ranks.
They believed it was through cooperation with this young man that the Corleone family had swept aside the five families to become America's sole underground power.
With such a role model present, guests lingered outside the door, reluctant to enter.
When Leo stepped out, over thirty men surrounded him with humble smiles. They were roughly Grace's father's age—successful-looking men. Yet these high-society figures treated Leo like a star, showering him with compliments.
"Hey, gentlemen, give our guest a chance to enter, please," Mike appeared just in time to ease Leo's embarrassment. By the time he finished greeting, his mouth was dry.
"Mom, please look after Grace," Mike said.
This task was meant for his wife, Kelly, but she favored Emily. As for his sister, she hadn't appeared in a long time since Mike executed Carlo.
"Leo, I heard you're here today—a big shot who never comes to my house. He's waiting for you," Mike said.
Most people would refuse such a meeting, as it involved unknowns. But Mike had Leo's trust.
The Godfather's study. This was Leo's third visit. The scene was almost unchanged—only the old man was gone.
"Hey, Leo, remember us?"
A man sitting by the door stood. Leo recalled this was the New York senator at the Godfather's funeral.
Greeting him in the Italian way, Leo said:
"Of course, Mr. Giuseppe. I'm now doing business in New York and will need your support."
"Call me Antonio. Come, Leo. Let me introduce you to our pride—the former New York mayor, Fiorello Henry La Guardia."
The two men appraised each other. This man looked fierce, more like a mafia boss than a mayor.
In his past life, Leo knew little about Prohibition-era New York mayors. Now he understood that with such an Italian mayor backing them, it was no surprise the New York Mafia thrived.
"Hahaha, I'm no longer the pride of Italians," La Guardia said. "Mr. Valentino, young and billionaire, you are the best representative of Italian heritage."
With the other man taking the humble tone, the meeting was cordial.
Due to his sensitive status, La Guardia could not linger with the Corleone family.
At parting, he took Leo's hand seriously:
"I'm old, and we Italians are in a transitional phase. Many have turned to the Mafia. But as I always say to Victor, times are changing. The Mafia's soil is disappearing, yet few understand this. I'm confused about what future Italians in America will have.
Until you appeared.
Forgive me for using some connections to investigate you. Though you are strong, you are frighteningly calm. In the risky early startup days, you crafted a clean image.
So far, no one can directly accuse you of crime, which is good.
I have a feeling you will be a better leader than I."
La Guardia handed Leo an old-fashioned key:
"In Jonesboro, Tennessee, there's a tiny Italian community under a hundred people, centered on a late 17th-century Catholic church.
Visit when you have time. Trust me, you won't regret it.
Goodbye, Leo. Remember, be cautious. You carry many Italian hopes now, whether you want to or not.
If problems arise, come find me. There may be surprises.
After all, we hold the votes."
Watching the man leave, Leo said to Mike:
"Brother, you really prepared a great gift for me."
Mike shook his head:
"I didn't invite him. Like I said, you used your own strength to bring him out. Now you're one of the representatives of Italian heritage!"
Mike sighed deeply.