The attempted assassination was ultimately framed as a retaliation against the Truman Doctrine—Truman's State of the Union address in March 1947.
And it was the polar bear who took the fall.
After joining Truman's campaign team, Leo could sense that Truman was displeased with his unwillingness to sacrifice his own interests to maintain team harmony.
At the same time, Jesse announced he would be taking over as Governor of Virginia—becoming the fourth person to hold the post in the 1944–1948 term.
In his inaugural radio address across the state, he took a hard stance, vowing to break the so-called "governor's curse" and do what was right for the people of Virginia. He claimed he would confront the businessmen sucking the state dry without fear.
Then, he made his move against Leo—waving the banner of antitrust enforcement.
Previously passed legislation, as well as officials promoted through O'Brien's influence, were quickly purged.
Of course, Jesse dared to act because Leo had given his nod.
The Virginia market had already been fully developed.
As for those officials—having benefited from Leo yet failing to do their jobs—of course they deserved to be removed.
What truly troubled Leo was that Valentino Real Estate's expansion into other states had visibly slowed.
No overt hostility, no explicit resistance—just a tacit, collective cold shoulder.
A silent boycott, frustrating even for Leo, who was never short on ideas.
Such a cross-regional consensus wasn't orchestrated by just a few men like James Roosevelt—it was the result of systemic inertia.
"No sharing, no development," that was the unspoken rule.
Yesterday, Leo had specially rented a hunting ground and invited Augustus for a hunt, hoping to pry out some insights.
Augustus pointed to a dead wolf he had just shot and asked,
"For this wolf, what matters more—the bait rabbit, or its life?"
After the hunt, Morgan even recommended a list of potential shareholders.
But when Leo looked at the list, every name had either "Morgan" in it, or wore a chain with "Morgan" engraved on it.
If he let those people in, Leo figured he'd end up wearing a Morgan-branded collar himself.
What to do?
Agitated, Leo reached downward and placed his hand firmly on the back of kneeling Yelena's head.
His arm jerked in rhythm with his restless mood.
Strands of hair danced in the air.
A while later, Yelena, whining about being tired, climbed up onto the desk, pouting.
Leo slouched on the sofa, the fire inside him now extinguished.
The once-pristine desk was now cluttered.
Yelena lay there in disheveled clothes, her long pale legs drooping limply over the edge, twitching slightly.
With a cool head now, Leo lit a cigar and began to think.
Yielding wasn't his style.
If he didn't yield, he could grind it out—like Tishman Realty did for 20 years before dominating the East Coast.
But that would cost him his golden two-year development window.
Suddenly, Leo remembered something his old negotiation instructor once said:
"If you follow someone else's rhythm, you will definitely lose!"
Since they want a share of his money—why shouldn't he take the lead?
Even if he must "sell himself," he'll sell at the highest possible price.
In Lynchburg, Virginia, atop the Blue Ridge Mountains, inside the Skyview Hall—
"This place is amazing! A glass house in this spot—what a view!"
Hudson, chairman of North Carolina's Rice Homes, marveled.
"If you like it, come more often. How are business affairs lately, my dear Honorary Presidents?"
"Fantastic, President!"
"You're usually quiet. Since you've called us urgently today—do you have a new money-making idea?"
That came from Carson Mayling.
The Mayling family, being nouveau riche from the West, never passed on a growth opportunity.
Carson's words piqued everyone's curiosity.
"Don't rush. Let's eat first," Leo said as he clapped his hands.
Waiters removed the dish covers, revealing a large cake and several smaller ones.
Knife in hand, Leo looked around and said:
"Before eating, let me ask: if five of us each had a small cake, would we be full—or would one big cake feed us better?"
"Of course the big cake," said Exxon, CEO of Coastal Realty.
Everyone looked puzzled, unsure what Leo was getting at.
"I've been thinking—every industry has its giants. Why not real estate?
In the past, real estate was slow money, tied to regional limits.
But with pre-sales and prefab materials, turnaround is fast.
It's time for America to birth a giant—like Standard Oil once was."
Silence.
The room was dead quiet, everyone with mixed expressions.
Todd O'Brien of Brookfield Properties, the Canadian representative Leo had brought in, broke the tension:
"Mr. Leo, your idea is that we five companies merge into one. But our sizes vary greatly—this could damage our individual development."
That was tactful. Leo knew they were afraid of being swallowed whole.
He replied:
"Gentlemen, we've known each other for some time. You know my character.
I don't want to take over your companies—I want to build something great together and take it public.
Imagine—a massive real estate company covering the entire East Coast. Just the buzz would drive investors to throw money at us!
Right now, no real estate company in the East can match us if we unite.
Small cakes won't fill us. But one big cake? We'll eat our fill—and starve out the competition."
The vision was alluring. Carson Mayling couldn't help but ask:
"How would we merge, exactly?"
Leo anticipated their concerns:
"As the initiator, I'll take a loss.
We'll form 'American Real Estate' based on the Valentino Company.
You each contribute your non-core business (i.e., outside your home state).
Shares will be divided based on contributions. You may also buy into the new company based on Valentino's current valuation.
I won't hold the most shares. But in exchange for my sacrifice, I want the chairman's seat.
As for CEO—we'll decide together."
Everyone's eyes lit up.
They could buy into Valentino!
This wasn't a takeover—it was inclusion.
"Gentlemen, let's have some cake first," Leo said as he handed them each a small piece.
"As for the big one—well, that depends on your performance.
And time is limited. There are plenty of people down this mountain eager to eat that cake."
The veiled threat hit home.
If they said no, someone else in the association certainly would say yes.
And if Leo's vision became reality, no one could compete with American Real Estate.
"President Valentino, give us one day to consider," Carson said, wiping sweat from his brow.
"No problem. Tomorrow morning—those who want cake, climb the mountain!"
The next morning, everyone showed up to see the sunrise.
In fact, there was one extra person.
Hudson looked gloomy—beside him stood a tall blond young man:
Phoenix Willard, deputy chairman of the Altria Group.
With a confident glint in his eye and a relaxed, rule-defying tone, he said:
"I like big deals. My uncle's Rice Homes doesn't interest me.
So when I heard about your plan yesterday, I rushed here from my casino in Cuba.
I now represent Rice Homes—and Altria.
We're in.
I believe you understand what Altria means in the South.
I've researched you, Mr. Valentino—you're a genius. I haven't found any weaknesses.
My father always told me, 'Phoenix, if you can't build a business, find someone who will make you rich.'
And I believe you are that person."
Leo's eyes lit up.
Altria, though less famous than Morgan, had deep Southern roots in tobacco—and untold hidden wealth.
This was the "dumpling" Leo had been boiling vinegar for—waiting for it to dip itself in.
As a lifelong smoker, Leo was familiar with Marlboro's parent company in his past life.
Altria was steady, cautious in expansion, and only invaded adjacent markets.
For other sectors, they preferred investment.
Phoenix was only a year or two older than Leo and wore his heart on his sleeve.
Leo could tell—he was completely genuine.
After dealing with schemers trying to split profits and leash him like a dog, Leo found Phoenix refreshing.
Compared to the shadowy political snakes of Virginia, this Southern-bred man felt... honest.
"Thank you, Phoenix. We're about the same age—please, call me Leo.
As long as you stand by me, this will be the best decision of your life.
And I promise—whenever I find a good business, you'll be invited."
"Don't celebrate too soon. I want 20% of American Real Estate. That's Altria's condition."
Straightforwardness like this was harder to deal with than intrigue.
If the first company got 20%, negotiations with the rest would get tricky.
Leo hesitated.
"Phoenix, you know Rice Homes isn't worth that."
"$200 million—for 15% of your stake.
You know that's a premium."
"Deal."
Leo agreed immediately.
Even if American Real Estate would someday be worth over a billion—that was the future.
Without Altria, there was no future.
With Phoenix breaking the ice, the other four companies agreed to contribute their non-core businesses.
Without Altria's deep pockets, they brought in legal and finance teams to hammer out share splits.
The leaders toasted the successful beginning.
Leo then declared:
"For our IPO, we need to show a clear direction.
Our biggest market remains the East Coast—dense population and immigration.
Now with Altria and Gulf Realty from Florida, the Southeast is covered.
Next: the Northeast and East-Central regions.
Due to my limited time, I recommend a CEO: Austin."
Everyone was stunned—except Phoenix.
They all had close ties to Austin back in the day—but didn't help him when he fell.
Still, they knew: if Austin led, their interests would be safe.
Their complex emotions stemmed from guilt.
Austin, unbothered, bowed and said:
"Gentlemen, you know me. I built Tishman Realty into one of the top East Coast firms.
I know the East-Central and Northeast markets.
And I can conquer them again.
My first target—Ohio.
Only one company there: Destan Realty, valued under $50 million.
Once we take Ohio, the Great Lakes region will follow."
As he spread out a map and laid out a detailed expansion plan, even Phoenix was convinced.
Thunderous applause.
American Real Estate's first CEO was now chosen.
Leo remained COO, Altria got a board seat, and Daniel became CFO.
Leo knew well: delegate authority, but never finances.
Over lunch, everyone treated Leo with visible respect—except Phoenix, who treated him as a friend.
They had long heard of Leo's ruthlessness—but seeing it firsthand was sobering.
They had all witnessed how Destan Realty had offended Leo.
Leo, sensing the mood, explained mid-meal:
"I don't deny revenge played a part.
But Destan was the perfect first target—good size, and it'll boost our share price.
Also, it frees a board seat.
We'll bring in a pure Northeast company—to keep balance.
Draw some in, beat some down.
We can't let the region unite against us.
And if the timing's right, that new board member may join American Real Estate too."
Instead of reassurance, Leo's words made them more cautious.
This man bore grudges—and played deep.
"Leo, aside from me—who else holds big shares in your company?"
Phoenix asked casually.
"I've reserved 20% for my friends in banking," Leo replied.
"The Morgans? Want me to go with you?"
Don't let Phoenix's casual air fool you—his strength allowed him to drop pretenses.
But he was sharp—he saw through things and knew his value to Leo.
"Thanks, Phoenix. But not necessary.
As long as I keep making money, my friends won't leave me."
Leo looked toward New York and murmured.