"Hahaha! Leo, congratulations, happy wedding!"
Truman spread his arms wide when he was still five or six meters away from Leo.
Nearly a thousand guests were present, all witnessing the warm embrace between this legendary duo who had once created a miracle reversal together.
"And congratulations to you too, Harry. You are not only the elected President now, but thanks to your victory, the Democrats have regained control of Congress."
Leo said with a smile.
Truman looked at him solemnly.
"Allow me to say it once more, Leo: I became President because of both of us."
"You two can stop being so modest. Step aside, Harry—we want to hug the groom too!"
Marshall teased.
"Congratulations, Leo. When you return from your honeymoon, let's talk about Europe."
From Marshall's tone, Leo could tell it was likely good news.
After hugging Marshall, Eisenhower came forward.
He wasn't as close to Leo, so an embrace would have been inappropriate. But his warmth far surpassed their previous encounters. He bent slightly and clasped Leo's hands with both of his.
Standing close, Eisenhower said:
"Leo, if you'll allow me to call you that. Every year before Christmas, I host a dinner at my estate in Kansas. I sincerely invite you and your wife to attend."
His eyes burned with eagerness—not the eagerness of a man enchanted by beauty, but the hunger of one who longed for power.
When James first reached out to Eisenhower, the general hadn't thought much of it. But after multiple groups tried to recruit him, he began to suspect he possessed advantages he himself hadn't realized.
What finally pushed him toward ambition was the military-industrial complex: one lobbyist after another, each offering a higher price than the last.
Though he eventually backed down out of fear of losing to Dewey—and thus losing face—Eisenhower, as a calm observer of this year's election, analyzed it as though commanding troops. His conclusion was clear: without the young man before him, Truman would never have defeated Dewey.
And if he, Eisenhower, were to step onto the political stage, even Dewey might not be a match for him.
That realization left him with only one crucial piece missing—one man he could not control.
Leo Valentino.
With Leo at his side, Truman would be no obstacle.
Truman and Marshall were no fools. A shadow of worry flickered in their eyes.
Next came Air Force Chief of Staff Hoyt Vandenberg. He hurried forward, bowing low.
On the way here, Truman had warned him more than once: if Leo did not forgive his offense, as Commander-in-Chief he would remove Vandenberg from his post.
Marshall and Eisenhower had spoken for him, or else he wouldn't even have been allowed to tag along.
But Leo's expression was cold.
"General Vandenberg, I don't recall sending you an invitation?"
The blunt rebuke made Vandenberg inhale sharply. For the sake of his career, he forced himself into greater humility.
"Mr. Valentino, please allow me to apologize for my earlier offense. Halting your deal with Boeing was my greatest mistake. I hesitated to even come today, but I've recently learned something you should know. Boeing requires far more investment than we previously thought.
One of their old shareholders has suffered an 'unfortunate accident'—a car crash. His family, now in crisis, must urgently sell their shares to save themselves. Eighteen percent of Boeing stock is currently available."
Leo studied him. To the label of "opportunist," he added three words: without bottom line.
That "accident" was no coincidence. Clearly, the military-industrial complex had sacrificed a piece to protect Vandenberg. Their methods were blunt but effective. Unlike Jewish financiers, who preferred to smear or exile their targets before striking, the military-industrial complex acted directly.
Leo realized his intelligence system, cobbled together by Turner the thief, was wholly inadequate. Depending on it alone was reckless for a man of his stature. His eyes shifted to Hoover, standing quietly behind the group.
Perhaps that man could still be of use. Hoover might not be the best intelligence mind of the era, but he knew the desires of America's elites better than anyone.
Vandenberg's confidence faltered as he followed Leo's gaze to Hoover. He cursed Marshall's faulty advice—this man did not care only about profit.
Leo spoke at last, his voice flat:
"This isn't the first time, Hoyt. Even if I forgave you, your hostility toward me wouldn't vanish. Perhaps you and I were never meant to be friends. Now, please leave."
The room stiffened. Clearly this was not as simple as they had hoped.
Vandenberg's face darkened with fury, but Marshall and Eisenhower quickly restrained him. Eisenhower leaned down to whisper:
"He's never lost, and the military-industrial complex won't go to war with Leo over you. Swallow your pride."
Vandenberg paled. He thought of the sacrificed Boeing shareholder, then looked again into Leo's cold eyes. If he simply left now, his fate would be little better than that man's.
"I… Mr. Valentino, what must I do to earn your forgiveness? More Boeing shares? I can arrange it."
But Leo ignored him, turning instead to Truman, Marshall, and Eisenhower. Since they had brought this unwelcome guest, they would need to guarantee his credit.
The three seasoned foxes exchanged looks. Truman spoke first:
"Hoyt, you should step down."
Then he looked at Marshall: I've given my concession. Now it's your turn.
Marshall thought a moment.
"The ambassador to New Zealand is reaching retirement. I can create a special training program for Desmond—prepare him, then appoint him."
Now Eisenhower. Eager to win Leo's favor, his offer was generous and well-researched.
"Leo, the Electric Boat Company, which built submarines for us during the war, is now struggling with losses and transition. They've asked me to help them recruit computer experts. And I know your Valentino Research Company holds several government contracts in this emerging field.
I can arrange cooperation between you. As for how much stake you secure—that will be up to you."
He was clearly trying to bring Leo into the military-industrial fold.
The three of them weren't protecting Vandenberg out of affection. Their role was to manage such matters. Failing to shield him would tarnish their reputations.
Vandenberg understood this too. His face twisted in pain. Whatever they offered on his behalf, the debt would ultimately fall on him.
Once the intruder was gone, the atmosphere warmed immediately. No one mentioned him again.
Eisenhower shone in particular, catching every remark Leo made, showing how thoroughly he had studied him. It made Truman uneasy. He couldn't hold back, even though the bride was already approaching and the ceremony about to begin.
"Leo, I've asked you several times now about joining the Democratic Party. Have you decided?"
He gestured toward Evelyn.
"After all, she is the jewel of the Democrats."
Indeed, Truman had been urging Leo to join since the campaign began. Leo had refused each time. Not out of childish resentment for past rejections, but because he no longer needed party membership to elevate himself. Now, it was the parties who needed him.
And keeping himself unattached gave him leverage—pressure on Truman, and potential support from the Republicans if relations soured.
Leo parried smoothly.
"Yes, Harry—I should go claim the jewel of the Democrats!"
He smiled to the guests and walked toward Evelyn, who was escorted by Thomas.
Her white veil fluttered in the noon breeze as she placed her delicate hand in Leo's. Her radiant smile was brighter than when she had once swung on a tree swing two years ago.
Seeing her joy, Leo smiled too. To bring happiness to the one you love—that was enough.
Father Lorenzo resumed his role with practiced ease:
"Dear friends, we gather here today to witness the union of this couple. Mr. Valentino, do you take Evelyn as your wife…"
"I do."
Leo's voice was firm.
"And Miss Evelyn, do you take Mr. Valentino as your husband?"
"I do."
After exchanging rings, Father Lorenzo declared:
"Before God and these witnesses, I pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Valentino, you may kiss your bride."
Leo kissed Evelyn as applause filled the air.
Most guests' eyes betrayed ulterior motives, but his brothers' cheers were pure.
"Seeing the boss marry makes me want to as well."
Sean sighed.
"First you need a girl. Anyway, I'm getting married next month—you all better come."
Daniel grinned.
Yes, he too was stepping into politics. In America of this era, a politician without a family was considered unreliable. His bride was from an ordinary family, their meeting by chance.
"Ha, Daniel, you don't even know—Sean's the hottest catch around now."
Charlie laughed.
"Stop teasing. Hey, where's Joseph? How could he miss the boss's big day?"
Daniel, who knew a bit of the truth, replied vaguely:
"He's preparing the wedding gift."
—
On a New York highway, James—rescued from the psychiatric hospital—was transferred from a garbage truck into Gavin's car. His limbs were useless, ravaged by Pfizer's secret drug experiments. His cousin had arranged for this torment, fearing James might reclaim his place in the Roosevelt family.
Though wracked with pain, James's eyes blazed with hatred. The moment he saw Gavin, he croaked eagerly:
"You dared rescue me—does that mean Truman and that bastard Leo lost?"
"I'm afraid not, James. They won. We freed you because only your network and influence can keep us fighting. If we don't stand together, we'll be crushed."
James muttered in disbelief:
"Impossible… did Dewey die unexpectedly?"
After a long pause, his political instincts resurfaced. America was unsafe for him now.
"Send me to Japan. To MacArthur. Once I recover, I'll return."
Gavin didn't argue. Truthfully, seeing James so broken disappointed him. They had gone to great lengths—even planting a double to die in his place—only to find James useless in the short term. But what choice did they have?
Five cars sped toward the coast, where a ship awaited.
At a gas station on their route, Joseph lowered his binoculars. He had calculated precisely: the cars from New York didn't have the fuel to reach the port without stopping here.
"Are the explosives planted?" he asked his comrades.
"All ready."
"Good. We'll clear out. If they don't stop here, we'll ambush at the port."
As the cars slowed, James panicked, but Gavin reassured him:
"Don't worry. To most people, you're already dead. We're just refueling."
James relaxed. He had to survive, to take revenge on Leo.
But when the five cars pulled into the station, no attendants came. The drivers tensed—something was wrong. They hit the gas—
BOOM!
A massive explosion erupted, a mushroom cloud rising into the sky.
—
At the Valentino estate in Virginia, the wedding was winding down. Leo and Evelyn stood at the gate, bidding farewell to guests.
Daniel leaned close and whispered:
"Boss, word from New York—the package has reached the heavens."