"Leo, you've changed," Augustus said to him on the plane.
"How could I have changed? We've been together this entire trip through Europe," Leo replied casually.
"No, it's different. After that phone call you took two nights ago at the banquet, your aura changed. You're becoming more and more like my father."
Augustus's expression was deadly serious.
Leo didn't answer. Instead, he gently pulled a blanket over the sleeping Emily beside him.
If Leo had to evaluate Augustus, sharp eyesight would definitely rank as his number one strength. And indeed, Augustus was right—Leo's mindset had undergone a transformation, no less profound than the last one. Interestingly, both times, Augustus had been nearby.
This change was driven by the weakness of his enemies.
Leo had thought the Anti-Leo Alliance would fight him to the bitter end, like before, with real steel and real blood. Yet in reality, the alliance leaked intelligence to him faster than Bitner's reports ever could.
That meant Leo's reputation for always winning had finally taken root. His mere deterrence was enough to make opponents surrender, enough to make seemingly mighty alliances collapse from within.
Three years of struggle—at last, Leo's golden stature had been forged. In the fantastical novels of his past life, this was the equivalent of condensing a divine spark and ascending to godhood.
From this moment on, anyone displeased with Leo would have to weigh carefully: is it more cost-effective to oppose him, or to befriend him?
For the first time in his life, something called a sense of security settled upon Leo.
The era of "fortify the city, store up grain, bide your time" was over.
Now, Leo decided, it was time to expand his territory. With confidence in his heart and dominance in his stride, his mindset naturally shifted.
To Augustus, the change was obvious—Leo was becoming more and more like that legendary figure: J. P. Morgan.
"Instead of staring at me, Augustus," Leo said evenly, "perhaps you should be thinking about how to face Henry's scolding once we're back."
At the airport, they had run into Roland, the one assigned to replace Augustus.
Roland had been frank about his defeat—he had lost, and losers should admit it. But he couldn't accept that Augustus had given away the Morgan family's 12% stake in American Real Estate to Leo.
He had roared at Augustus in public, calling him a disgrace to the Morgan name.
Augustus had answered him coldly:
"That was mine to give."
Even now, Leo could still hear Roland's hysterical reply echoing in his head:
"You bear the name Morgan! Everything you have belongs to the Morgans!"
On the plane, when confronted by Leo's question, Augustus shrugged.
"As I told Roland, I traded what was mine. The Morgan name was worth, at most, 5% of American Real Estate—and I kept that. I'll hand it to Henry, and from then on, I'll be completely free of American Real Estate.
"If Henry is angry, what's that to me? I've always advised him to invest in you. He missed the chance to make the family rich—that's his fault, not mine.
"He's the incompetent one. I should be the one angry.
"And if he can't tolerate this? Then fine, I'll go back to Europe. All the better for running my own investment company."
When they landed in New York, Leo bid Augustus farewell.
His first order of business was to have Walter escort Emily back to his old stronghold in the West. Even though Leo now carried a deep sense of security, when it came to his heir, he remained absolutely cautious.
After all, while his growing power had put shoes on many feet, it had also left many others barefoot and bitter. He could never be too careful.
Emily was reluctant to part, tears welling in her eyes.
"Can't I stay for your wedding with Evelyn? You know I love you. I don't care about that. I just want to witness this important moment in your life."
Leo looked at the girl who carried his child, who had nothing but him in her eyes, who was so understanding despite everything. Even with his iron heart, he felt deeply moved.
The sun was setting, casting its golden glow across Emily's face. Leo's mind drifted back to that afternoon in Lynchburg years ago—a similar sunset, a girl in a floral dress idly playing with pebbles on the street, waiting for her sweetheart.
On impulse, Leo stepped behind Emily and, just as he had done back then, covered her eyes with his hands.
Leaning close, his breath hot against her ear, Leo whispered in a deep voice:
"My dear, wait for me in the West. I'll hold a wedding just for us."
Emily left. Michael didn't say a single word to Leo during the farewell.
Back in the car, Leo quickly pushed away the lingering emotions. Looking at Joseph, who had replaced Walter at the wheel, he asked:
"Tell me—what's your plan for those trying to rescue James?"
The car sped along the highway from New York to Richmond. Joseph briefed him the entire way.
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room in New York, John and Gavin, along with other die-hard Anti-Leo members, gathered together. Under the yellow glow, John spoke slowly:
"Leo has left New York. He's heading to Richmond for his wedding. This is our best chance to strike."
The others nodded in agreement.
Richmond, Virginia – Valentino Manor
Formerly known as the Cotton Estate, it was now the Valentino Manor.
"Car-crammed" didn't begin to describe it. Every paved surface on Thomas's grounds had been turned into parking, and still, it was barely enough.
"So, every big shot in America came? Since when did these people learn to queue?" Edwin Hutchinson sneered.
Bertrand Jefferson smirked.
"You're in the line too, aren't you? Tell me, Edwin—what does it feel like to watch the woman you wanted marry someone else? Especially when even with your status, you still couldn't win her!"
Edwin's heart twisted. Bertrand had mocked him with this scandal before, and he knew it would haunt him for life. His hatred for Leo deepened another notch.
When Edwin didn't respond, Bertrand pressed on:
"I hear people in New York are planning to rescue James. Didn't you get involved?"
A strange glint flashed in Edwin's eyes before he quickly masked it.
"He's no longer someone I'm qualified to touch. Even the Hutchinson family would find him a burden. Why should I take part?
"And Bertrand, ever since you stabbed me in the back last time, don't think we're still friends.
"I know why you're here. Your Jefferson family backed the wrong side in the election. Now you want to protect your family's interests, keep key positions safe. You'll have to go begging the very Valentino you once looked down on.
"You're no better than me."
Bertrand accepted the jab calmly.
"A bet's a bet. My family isn't too proud to admit when we're wrong. Besides—"
He gestured at the long line of dignitaries waiting to enter.
"With so many illustrious faces here to seek favor, why should I feel ashamed?
"Mr. Valentino won. He owns the game. This government belongs to him until the midterms, and he has the right to divide the spoils."
Inside the palatial reception hall, Leo was already exhausted.
What did a billionaire's wedding feel like? For Leo, the answer was tiring.
At his level, the wedding wasn't just a wedding anymore. Before the ceremony had even begun, he had met countless people in the reception hall.
First and foremost, of course, was Thomas's faction.
Back when Leo killed former Governor O'Brien, many of Thomas's old political allies had written him off. To them, a brash young man like Leo couldn't possibly last long.
So, despite Thomas's introductions, they had collectively kept their distance.
But now, after Leo had won the election and amassed immense resources, these politicians had all bent their heads and traveled great distances to pay respect.
One such man was Clif Dale, the Lieutenant Governor who had long sparred with Thomas and Virginia's new governor, Jesse.
Mr. Dale sought the position of Deputy Attorney General. Leo granted it. As Dale thanked him profusely, Leo said:
"Clif, I helped you for two reasons. First, you're Thomas's loyal supporter—you're one of his own.
"Second, I have a small request. When you leave office, use your influence to support some promising young people. What do you say?"
Leo handed him a list.
Clif's face tightened. He worried Leo would ask for too much. Virginia was steeped in political tradition—every high-level post already had its rightful owner.
But when he glanced at the list, his relief was immediate. Most were minor figures—local judges, city council members. For Clif, it was nothing more than a word of recommendation.
"Mr. Valentino, Thomas could have handled these for you as well. You should entrust me with something more important."
But Leo shook his head.
"Thomas has his own people to promote. These names—better that they become yours. Do you understand what I mean?"
Clif did. Leo wanted these young people tied to him directly, not just now but throughout their careers.
A lifelong investment in protégés. Such a demand was new to Clif, and he couldn't help but sneer inwardly.
Leo might be brilliant at business and elections, but he didn't understand politics. Politicians made empty promises all the time. Why should Clif bind himself to these names?
He was about to agree perfunctorily, planning to ignore it later, when his eyes met Leo's.
The depth in Leo's gaze froze him. Instantly, his mind flashed through the thick dossiers he had studied on Leo.
They had all thought Leo wouldn't last. But they had watched him topple Cotton, become a billionaire, force the Roosevelt family to imprison James, and, against all odds, help Truman win the presidency.
He kept winning—bigger and bigger each time.
Would he keep winning? The line of dignitaries outside answered that question.
In that instant, Clif realized it wasn't Leo who didn't understand politics—it was he who didn't understand genius.
By seeking Leo's help, he had already branded himself. As long as Leo stood above them, Clif could never escape his shadow.
"Mr. Valentino," Clif said solemnly, "I understand. I'll treat these young men as if they were my own nephews."
As he left, Leo's voice followed:
"Clif, I hope we can be friends. Don't follow in the footsteps of my old friend Governor Harry. I trust you haven't forgotten him."
Leo had only said "Harry," but Clif instantly thought of the last three governors of Virginia.
All dead.
He shivered.
After Clif, the rest of Thomas's faction fell neatly into line. Soon, most of them had secured posts in Washington—with young protégés tied to Leo at their side.
When they were gone, Thomas, who had been quietly observing from the sofa, sighed.
"You've risen too fast, Leo. In this election you nearly swept the board, but when it comes to dividing the spoils, you lack seasoned allies. Truman is thrilled—you have no men to place in key positions. Even for these scraps, you must rely on other factions.
"You handled Clif well—balancing favors and threats—but for a veteran like him, the shelf life may be only a night. They are masters of the same game.
"In truth, your only real ally is me—the old man marrying off his granddaughter to you."
Leo smiled.
"But Clif and the others are your people. And since you're mine, your people are mine too."
Thomas shook his head.
"Not the same, Leo. There's an old saying in Europe: the vassal of my vassal is not my vassal.
"They are my men, but not necessarily yours."
Leo understood perfectly. His circle was too young.
Desmond had been placed in the State Department under Marshall to learn diplomacy. Once ready, Leo planned to send him abroad as an ambassador.
Daniel, backed by his status as a famous entrepreneur and chairman of Truman's campaign committee, had just been elected congressman for Richmond's Jackson Ward.
Much of it had been paved with Leo's money and political bargaining.
Beyond that, he had few suitable candidates.
So Leo had devised two strategies.
First: waste nothing. Absorb every faction coming to him now, then sift through them slowly for loyal talent.
Second: invest in the future.
No matter how busy he was, Leo always kept a close eye on the Veterans Affairs Committee. With his steady funding, it had grown into the largest veterans' association in America.
Beyond material support, Leo had built a sophisticated talent selection system: every month, state subcommittees nominated two outstanding veterans to attend a two-day training session in New York or Richmond—taught personally by Leo.
The training? In modern terms: career planning.
The list Leo had given Clif came entirely from this program. Most of them were bright young men who had already completed college after returning from service. Leo had already arranged their first jobs.
Others were still studying, but that was fine. Leo was only twenty-three. Time was on his side.
And if someday these men grew wings and thought to defy him?
Impossible. By then, Leo would only be stronger.
Seeing the determination in Leo's eyes, Thomas fell silent. He checked his watch.
"I'll go check on my lovely granddaughter. You keep an eye on the time. Who's next on your list?"
Leo rubbed his temples.
"My Italian countrymen."