March 20th.
Five Lincoln cars stopped in front of 11 Wall Street, Lower Manhattan, New York.
"Built in 1903, this has always been the symbol of American finance. Every company dreams of going public here. Once, a single word from my father could send a company's stock soaring."
The pedestrians on Wall Street, always rushing past, instinctively slowed down when they heard this, curious to see who was boasting so shamelessly.
Some of the older brokers took a look and realized—ah, it was Mr. Augustus Morgan. Thinking of his father, J.P. Morgan, they quickly resumed their steps. This wasn't boasting at all.
"J.P. Morgan was once the savior of American finance," Sidney said with faint admiration. Deep in the heart of every broker on Wall Street lived J.P. Morgan, just as in the heart of every American politician lived Roosevelt. That was the absolute yearning for ultimate power in one's field.
To others, Augustus seemed only to be flaunting his illustrious family background.
But only Leo, his close friend, caught the faint melancholy in his words.
Yes, the ones stepping out of the Lincoln cars were Leo and his team. Today was the day American Realty went public on the stock exchange.
Gazing up at the Greek-style pediment and towering Corinthian columns of the New York Stock Exchange, Leo's heart surged. Two years of struggle had led to this very moment.
Watching the frantic traders bustling inside, Leo understood: from today on, his influence would be amplified by the NYSE, spreading into the hearts of millions of American investors.
No—not just Americans, but the world.
Leo patted Augustus on the shoulder and said,
"You just said it wrong, my friend. This isn't merely the heart of American finance. It's the heart of world finance."
As the group exchanged words, a NYSE staff member approached them.
"Gentlemen, it is our honor to host the listing of American Realty on the New York Stock Exchange. All preparations are complete. Please, follow me."
An experienced guide, he led them forward while explaining the history of the Exchange and the upcoming bell-ringing ceremony. His calm, gentle words gradually steadied their excitement.
Passing through the grand hall, he gestured toward a gleaming golden wall.
"Soon, gentlemen, you will witness the moment American Realty goes public here."
The men nodded in satisfaction.
Many companies went public at the NYSE every day, big and small.
But the golden-wall chamber was reserved only for the most promising giants. Clearly, American Realty's preparations and performance had earned the Exchange's recognition.
On the third floor, the group was led into a waiting room where they were offered coffee. The staff member smiled and said:
"Gentlemen, you may wish to decide who will press the button in the center to activate the bell."
It was a clever hint—he wasn't only asking who would press the button, but also urging them to settle the standing positions for the big moment.
He left the room, and silence fell.
Merlin broke it first.
"Merlin Realty has already gone public before. I'll let someone else have this honor."
At moments of glory, it was human nature to want to stand at the center. But interest often outweighed vanity.
With Merlin bowing out, Gulf Realty and Canada's Brookfield Realty—the two smallest shareholders—also withdrew.
Augustus, a Morgan, had dreamed countless times of this moment. Phoenix, too, longed for it.
But just then, the sound of Leo sipping his coffee echoed in the room. Normally, he would never make such a noise.
Augustus and Phoenix immediately understood.
After all, American Realty had grown within the framework of Valentino Realty Group. Over seven months, all major strategic plans had been laid out by Leo.
It was Leo's influence that had driven the underwriters' price higher and opened foreign markets.
This central honor—the button that symbolized ultimate glory—belonged only to Leo.
Just as they were about to nominate him, Leo waved it off.
"No need to make it complicated. Let's stand close together and press it—three hands as one."
At that moment, a knock sounded, and the staff returned.
"Gentlemen, everything is ready."
Back in the golden chamber, the walls now gleamed with enormous banners of American Realty.
The artistic font, designed by Picasso for a million dollars, shimmered brilliantly against the golden backdrop.
Below the podium, journalists gathered with cameras ready, waiting to capture history.
On either side stood Austin, Daniel, and the company's executives, all trembling with excitement.
Leo, naturally at the center, mounted the bell platform with his colleagues.
Flashbulbs popped. The seconds ticked toward 9:29.
At 9:29:50, the crowd began the countdown:
"Ten! Nine! Eight… five, four, three, two, one—"
Leo, deliberately half a beat late, placed his hand over Augustus's and Phoenix's. Together, they pressed the button.
Dong! The bell rang out. American Realty was officially listed.
Opening price: $40 per share.
The hall fell silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the first trades.
Seven or eight American Realty staffers frantically punched the ticker tape machines with the stock code.
There were no big electronic screens yet—only little slips of paper slowly spitting out prices.
But the traders' shouts carried faster than any machine.
"American Realty—41 dollars! 30,000 shares!"
It was like a switch had been flipped.
"42 dollars—200,000 shares!"
"43 dollars!"
"44 dollars!"
Within five minutes, American Realty broke the $45 mark.
Applause erupted. Up $5 within ten minutes—everyone knew it was a triumph.
Seasoned brokers whispered—this was the ceiling for the day. But even so, it was one of the best IPO performances in years.
American Realty, with Wall Street's backing, would crush rivals one by one.
"Congratulations, Leo. Many doubted your stability. But today proves them wrong." Sidney clasped his hand.
"Hahaha, Sidney, congratulations to you too. American Realty's success belongs to all of us. And today, Goldman Sachs has shown Wall Street you can underwrite any giant. Your service impressed me. I'll sing your praises, especially when you go after Ford."
"Then I'll borrow your words. Get ready for the press interviews—this will only push the stock higher."
As the founders stepped down for interviews, another shout rang out from the pit:
"American Realty—46 dollars! 100,000 shares!"
Everyone froze, then whipped their heads toward the trading floor.
Their thoughts aligned: Takeoff! A super-surge unseen in years!
Sidney, still holding Leo's hand, broke free and ran to the ticker machine himself. He caught the slip of paper and burst out laughing.
"48 dollars!"
The frenzy hadn't stopped. The stock now ticked upward by cents, but Sidney's instincts told him—before close, it would smash through $50.
American Realty was set to become the biggest one-day gainer in two decades.
Ford? With this record-breaking trophy, the tables had turned. Ford would come begging Goldman.
Reporters went wild. This was front-page gold. They swarmed the founders, shoving microphones.
Leo drew the most attention—Founder and Chairman. Record-breaking IPO.
A journalist from The Wall Street Journal fought his way forward.
"Mr. Valentino, your net worth just jumped $125 million in a single day. How do you feel?"
He asked fast, hoping to provoke a rash answer—as many tycoons had foolishly done before, bragging about mansions or racehorses. A single careless word could topple a young idol's image.
But Leo, raised in a media-savvy age, saw through the trick instantly. His eyes flicked to the journalist's badge—Gordon, WSJ.
He made a mental note to have Clemensa deal with this man later.
Instead, he smiled warmly and spoke firmly:
"I will devote even more to philanthropy. I know my wealth comes from every young American chasing the dream of a better home. It is their aspirations that lifted American Realty today.
This record-breaking moment does not belong to us alone. It belongs to every American who bought our homes.
So I announce: all $125 million earned today will be donated to children displaced by the war in Europe—on behalf of every dreamer of the American Dream."
Gordon was crushed. Leo hadn't slipped—he had struck the perfect evangelical tone that Americans adored.
Worse, Gordon knew—this statement alone would add 50 cents to the stock.
The interviews ended in perfect harmony, each founder answering three questions and emphasizing the company's bright future.
By noon, the sun blazed down on Wall Street. The men shielded their eyes, dazed as if they had stepped into another world.
"In just one morning, our valuation rose by $500 million. We're now worth $5 billion," Augustus murmured, dizzy with the scale.
Phoenix chuckled. "This is the smartest investment I've ever made. My family back South will choke when they see it."
The group burst into laughter, carefree and triumphant.
Passersby only looked on with envy. Such laughter on Wall Street could only mean one thing—success.
Then Sidney approached, bowed deeply to Leo, and said,
"Thank you, Mr. Valentino. You've given Goldman Sachs new life."
Leo understood at once—this IPO's surge meant everything for Goldman. He smiled.
"Then I accept your thanks. And Sidney, this won't be my last IPO. I hope to enjoy the same quality of service next time."
"Client first—that is Goldman's creed. To express our gratitude, I've already arranged a grand celebration tonight at the Waldorf. And Augustus, forgive me—I've also invited Morgan Stanley. Henry himself called me just now."
Clever, capable, and always playing human nature—this was the man destined to lead Goldman to glory.
Leo and Augustus exchanged glances, both thinking the same mischief: to see Henry's face when he realized what he had missed.
"Then thank you, Sidney."