This was not what Evan had wanted.
Leo's personal investments and the increasingly conglomerate-like American Real Estate Group were two entirely different beasts.
Having lived through the great era of mergers, Evan knew all too well—personal desires could be restrained, but collective will could never be stopped.
"This is a railway, Leo. You're not even a little tempted?"
Evan asked helplessly.
Leo shook his head.
"Evan, you just said yourself—the railway company owns vast tracts of prime land.
You don't have experience developing it yourselves, so why not hand it over to American Real Estate? If you're worried about losing out, after we buy in, we can form a separate subsidiary."
In that instant, the roles of persuader and persuaded switched. Just moments ago, Leo had realized that taking a stake in a railway company would not only help Truman's election campaign, but also boost American Real Estate's stock price.
For Leo, the only thing besides women that could truly stir his heart was the growth of his wealth.
Evan had been wanting to leave the deal on the table, but Southern Railway's aggressive tactics—and the lack of an alternative partner—left him with no confidence to walk away.
"Evan, have you noticed the recent proposals in Congress? Almost none involve railway construction—it's all about highways. The railway era is coming to an end.
Haven't you thought about opening a new frontier for your family?"
Evan looked at Leo in mild surprise. Leo had successfully pushed a bill through Congress before—could these highway proposals be his doing too?
"Leo, even if we wanted infrastructure contracts, railways still make more than highways," Evan said, voicing his doubt.
Leo laughed.
"Evan, you give me too much credit. How could I alone push a hundred-billion-dollar proposal?
It's General Motors, it's Ford—it's everyone in America tied to the auto industry driving this forward!
We builders are just… adding a little fuel to the fire."
"Then why not rail?"
Faced with Evan's angry question, Leo didn't answer directly. In his mind, an old saying flashed—millions rely on the Cao family's works for their livelihood.
The higher Leo climbed, the more he noticed an unspoken agreement among America's business elite: to weaken the Morgan family's power. The largest railway company in the country was Morgan-controlled.
Evan muttered, then sighed. The number of companies in rail was nowhere near the number in the automotive industry.
"People may need rail less in the future, but they'll never stop needing houses.
The decline of rail won't happen overnight. Before the sunset comes, you might as well start finding your path out of the long night.
Let us buy into Norfolk & Western—maybe that's the first step."
Evan was a man of determination, quick to weigh the pros and cons. He caught the loophole in Leo's words immediately.
"You're no different from Southern Railway—you want to swallow my company."
Leo shook his head.
"No, Evan. Norfolk & Western's only value to American Real Estate is its land.
I could easily wait until the rail market collapses and buy it cheap. You know we're not short of business right now.
This is just friendly advice."
With that, Leo headed back inside. He'd already decided that if necessary, he could just ask the Southern titan, Altria Group, for help.
Sometimes, being without desire made you strong. Leo's detachment left Evan, in the middle of a life-or-death anti-takeover battle, with no way to force his hand.
Still, compared to other potential investors, American Real Estate seemed the most suitable.
"Alright, Leo. I agree—but I need a hundred million."
Leo turned and smiled.
"A wise choice. And as it happens, the newly formed American Real Estate Group has exactly a hundred million in cash.
As for the share ratio—let the lawyers and accountants handle it."
Because Evan was pressed for time, the negotiations went quickly. In the end, American Real Estate invested $100 million into Norfolk & Western Railway for a 25% stake.
Leo had achieved his goal—and at the same time, Sidney brought good news: the investment boosted investor confidence, and the underwriting price rose by another $1.50 per share.
On the flight to Britain, Leo sat surrounded by busy business travelers, wondering if it was time, as a billionaire, to buy his own private jet.
Looking out through the porthole at the clouds below, he reflected that he seemed to have passed the phase of "lucky heroes trapped by circumstances" and entered the time when "the world itself lends you its strength."
Everyone thought he'd lose everything betting on Truman—but only Leo knew how many cards he'd stacked in this sure-win fight.
His trip to Britain was at Marshall's request—the European Recovery Plan had reached a critical stage. Investment amounts for Western European countries had been largely agreed upon; after this meeting, the final transfers would begin.
Soon, Western Europe would fling open its doors to America's surplus production capacity.
It might look like investment, but in reality, Europe's economic lifelines would be firmly in American hands.
The combination of Europe's old colonial systems and capitalist super-harvesting machinery meant a full-fledged economic colonial order was forming.
Leo's biggest takeaway from the meeting was just how many ways there were to play the role of "submissive grandson." He was astonished at the soft, pliant posture of European leaders—especially the West German Chancellor, whose humility was almost beyond imagination.
Naturally, Leo enjoyed his share of such treatment. Italy and the Netherlands all but emptied their dictionaries of compliments for him.
Thanks to his mediation, out of the $10 billion in recovery funds, Italy and the Netherlands jointly secured $1.5 billion—$600 million of which went to the Netherlands.
The Dutch government was stunned, reevaluating the young, handsome man's influence. To keep him close, the Dutch royal family made a huge sacrifice: sending their freshly eighteen-year-old Princess Alice to Leo's bed.
Love and roses bloomed in that unrestrained night; youthful vigor infused with mature allure.
When tears fell, a girl became a woman.
The fierce battle of that long night didn't end quickly—and the absence of any scratch on Leo's back only proved someone had been sent soaring into the clouds.
That night in London, in that hotel, became the princess's most unforgettable memory.
But despite the royal effort, the $600 million still ended up flowing back to American companies.
In the end, $300 million would go to infrastructure—handled by none other than American Real Estate.
In rain-soaked London, Audrey stepped out of the Mary Lambert Ballet School with a gloomy face.
She turned to look at the small, nondescript building she had worked so hard in for the past three months, and tears welled up.
That day, her dream had been shattered—because of something she could not change: her height.
During the war years, food had been scarce. Audrey and her mother had donated much of what they had to the Dutch resistance, leaving her malnourished.
Her mother was waiting outside. Seeing her daughter's tear-streaked face, the strong woman also began to cry.
Audrey flung herself into her mother's arms, sobbing:
"Mama, Miss Mary said I'm too short. I'll never be able to dance ballet."
At that moment, a familiar voice cut through their grief:
"Who says you can't? If you can't blend in, stand in front."
Recognizing the voice, Audrey's eyes lit up. She forgot all about her mother and ran straight into Leo's arms.
Leo stroked her hair gently.
"No one gets to make you feel small."
With that, he walked into the ballet school.
"Who are you? No unauthorized entry,"
a man with a lifted chin and strong London accent said, blocking Leo's way.
"This is the most prestigious ballet school in Britain. You don't look like a dancer—leave immediately."
The second time that grating accent reached his ears, Leo's fist smashed into the man's face. The blow sent Chris Lambert flying into the staircase, unconscious and bleeding.
Screams erupted as Mary Vesna rushed down.
"Do you know who you just hit? The most famous ballet expert in Britain! What do you think you're doing?"
At that moment, the phone on the first floor rang.
"Maybe you should answer that, Headmistress," Leo said coolly.
"And what difference would that make? This is the most famous ballet school in Britain—nobles train here! You'll pay dearly for this."
Standing halfway up the stairs, Mary looked down on him, convinced this young man had no background.
"I don't hit women, but maybe you should listen to that call."
"So what if I do? Even princesses train here!"
Mary's tone softened just enough for her to pick up the phone.
In an instant, her face changed from arrogant to deferential.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I understand, Prime Minister."
Hanging up, she hurried to Leo, bowing deeply.
"Mr. Valentino, I failed to recognize your stature. Please forgive me."
Leo's voice was cold.
"Sorry, I can't forgive you. As Her Majesty just said—you are no longer the Royal Ballet School. From now on, your name is the Valentino Ballet School.
If you want to keep your job, show me sincerity."
The fifty-something headmistress, proud and haughty until now, lowered her head and slapped herself repeatedly until her face was swollen.
At last, Leo called for Audrey.
"I recommend Miss Audrey as the troupe's principal soloist. What do you think, Headmistress?"
Mary nodded frantically.
"Everything as Mr. Valentino wishes."
And just like that, Audrey's ballet dream came true—she was now the principal soloist.
That night, in a luxury London hotel, Audrey crossed the threshold from girl to woman. The reunion with her lover brought out every ounce of skill in the young dancer, her years of training granting her impossible flexibility.
The satisfaction of having Britain's goddess of three decades beneath him filled Leo's soul with contentment.
For days, they didn't leave the hotel. Under Leo's repeated "guidance," Audrey matured from shy to experienced. On their final night, knowing he would leave in the morning, she poured out her passion.
But kings are kings—Leo left at dawn, kissing the exhausted Audrey goodbye before boarding a plane back to America.
There, a new feast of wealth awaited him.
In Richmond, at the Valentino Research Laboratory, Leo sat in his office laughing at the thirty orders in front of him—each worth $3 million.
In just a month, the once-ignored lab was now front-page news.
The efficiency of the Federal Housing Administration and the Census Bureau had amazed everyone, sparking orders from other agencies and universities alike.
Commercial computing had truly arrived.
Even IBM reached out to discuss acquiring a stake. Leo refused—good business wasn't for sharing. But IBM's CEO persisted, traveling with him to Lynchburg before the American Group's roadshow meeting.
At that meeting, Austin reported a problem: in Ohio, Deston Real Estate's deep roots were slowing their project. Even a year might not be enough to take the market.
That wouldn't do. The roadshow was imminent, and American Real Estate had to look worthy of its name.
So Leo played his trump card—sending Aldo's elite sales team to Ohio. For this, the group paid Valentino Sales Company $10 million, with an additional 5% commission on unsold houses.