After Christmas, Leo returned home to New York from Kansas, braving the biting winter wind.
As Walter pulled the car up to the entrance, two figures with snow piled on their shoulders hurried forward, rubbing their hands together in excitement.
Leo immediately recognized them—it was Carson Merlin and Father Cade.
Both men rushed to open Leo's car door with deferential smiles plastered across their faces.
Leo gave them only a faint glance before silently walking into his mansion.
Seeing Leo ignore them, Father Cade quietly followed behind, still thinking he could negotiate. Carson Merlin, however, was already feeling the flames licking at his heels.
Tomorrow was the expanded board meeting of the American Real Estate Group.
As chairman and largest shareholder, Carson knew full well that since Leo had secured Phoenix, his own shares had crossed the 50% mark.
In other words, the American Real Estate Group was now nearly a one-man show.
In Carson Merlin's forty years of business, there had been very few cases where the chairman of such a massive company wielded almost total control. The only other example that came to mind was the Ford family.
Carson knew that if he failed to earn Leo's forgiveness today, tomorrow would mark his exit from the company.
Leaving meant leaving—and once, Carson might have accepted that. He still had his stronghold in the West, after all. He had always thought he could advance or retreat at will.
But then came the "American Real Estate Regulatory Act" and its implementation by the Real Estate Advisory and Planning Committee.
The very first victim was Tishman Realty, whose valuation far exceeded Merlin Properties, yet was swallowed whole by Leo through various maneuvers.
Tishman's fate chilled Carson to the bone.
He wasn't without drivers, but he had deliberately trudged through the snow, his shoulders caked with frost, to make himself look pitiful—hoping it would move Leo.
But clearly, his little act had been wasted.
Still, the fact that Leo allowed them inside meant there was room left to negotiate.
Sitting down, soaked to the bone, both Carson and Father Cade were shivering violently. There was a hint of theatrics in their condition, but the truth was—men of their status had rarely ever suffered like this.
Leo sneered, "Walter, fetch some dry towels for our honored guests, and pour them two glasses of whiskey to warm up. Wouldn't want outsiders saying I, Valentino, don't know how to treat guests properly."
The mocking tone made Carson's heart tremble. He couldn't wait any longer.
"Mr. Valentino," Carson blurted, "please, tell me what I must do to earn your forgiveness."
"No, no, Carson," Leo replied coolly. "Since the founding of the Real Estate Association, you've been my partner. You have no obligation to explain yourself to me… Just as I have no obligation to discuss friendship with you."
The more Leo spoke, the more Carson panicked.
Whether from the cold or from fear, his body began to tremble uncontrollably. Merlin Properties was his life's work—but if he failed this test, it would all crumble overnight.
Carson was no fool. He was a man who knew when to bow.
He slapped himself hard across the face.
"Please, Mr. Valentino," he begged. "For the sake of my years of loyalty, forgive me just this once."
At that moment, Walter set the towels and whiskey before them. Yet neither Carson nor Father Cade dared touch them without Leo's permission.
Leo sighed in frustration. "Father Cade's ignorance, I can overlook. But you, Carson—you've been with me long enough to know better. I won't brag, but since I began in business, I have never lost. You don't need me to state terms for forgiveness—you should be thinking of what you must offer to earn it."
The air grew tense.
Cade understood he was being scolded by implication. Carson's torment, however, was much greater. He had already guessed on the way here what Leo wanted.
Silence dragged on until Carson finally broke it with a long sigh.
He downed a glass of whiskey in one gulp and said heavily, "Mr. Valentino, if Merlin Properties merges into the American Real Estate Group, how many shares will we receive?"
"Today the American Real Estate Group's market value is nearing six billion," Leo replied. "Merlin Properties is worth barely half a billion. That corresponds to 8%—exactly the shares you hold now."
This brutal answer nearly made Carson lose his composure.
"Mr. Valentino," he protested, "Merlin Properties already holds 8% of the Group. How can a merger leave us with the same? That's not fair!"
Leo's expression turned icy.
"Carson, when you were riding the waves of commerce, I hadn't even been born. As a veteran, you should know one truth—when you place your bet, you must be ready to lose. If I treated you like I did Tishman, your company wouldn't be worth four hundred million, it wouldn't even be worth forty. You know I can make that happen. It's not arrogance—it's simple reality. In American real estate, I decide who lives and who dies."
Faced with such force, Carson slumped, drained his companion Cade's whiskey as well, and pleaded:
"Mr. Valentino… if Merlin Properties merges, and we still only hold 8%, I cannot answer to my shareholders. Could it be 12%?"
But Leo would not budge.
Coldly, he said, "Out of respect for your past support, I'll allow 10%. Otherwise, you can walk out now."
Carson dared not leave. Under the eaves, one must bow.
"I agree, Mr. Valentino," he said quickly. "I believe the Group's value will not stop at sixty dollars a share. With Merlin Properties joining, our wealth will only grow. We must thank you."
And so, the fifty-something Carson Merlin bowed his head to a man twenty years younger.
Leo nodded in satisfaction. With Merlin Properties merged, his western strategy had fired its first shot.
Carson, forgiven, was allowed a hot shower in the guest room.
Then Leo turned to Father Cade, who had watched in silence.
"Father," Leo said bluntly, "you're a man who truly understands human nature. So with you, I'll be frank. As I just told Carson—when you gamble, you must accept loss. If you want me to loosen my grip on the Vatican's four hundred million, tell me—what can you do for me?"
Cade didn't waver. With a face of upright honesty, he declared, "In Central America, the Evangelicals will cede leadership."
"Excellent!" Leo exclaimed. "You can inform the Pope he will regain access to the account tomorrow."
The next day, inside the American Real Estate Group's boardroom atop the Empire State Building, Leo entered expressionless.
Compared to Phoenix, now molded in Leo's image; to Carson, who had sacrificed so much; and to the Morgans, who sent only a minor executive with their paltry 5%—the one most eager for the expansion was the director from General Motors.
Why would an automaker invest in real estate? For the same reason Leo accepted Altria's gift of the Southern Railway. For giants, the question was always how to preserve wealth against devaluation.
Of course, for some, expectation gave way to dread. Gulf Realty of Florida and Canada's Brookfield Properties were the most terrified.
When they saw Carson Merlin's look of relief, they realized one of their allies had betrayed them. And alliances crumble when one link breaks.
Before Leo even spoke, the head of Gulf Group blurted out:
"Chairman Valentino, on behalf of my company, I must state our position. We are willing to sell Gulf Realty Group for eighty million."
Leo's face remained impassive, though inside he was delighted.
Thanks to the Association's policies, Gulf Realty had grown rapidly, with holdings in Florida and Cuba. Its market value was now 150 million. Offering it for 80 million was a desperate bid for survival.
The Gulf Group's core business was oil refining and chemicals. In Florida, they were untouchable—but in the U.S. at large, they faced formidable rivals. Standard Oil's breakup had spawned giants like Exxon, Mobil, and Chevron. And Chevron, in particular, was a constant presence in Washington, even frequenting Leo's new hot spring resort.
Gulf Oil's directors knew Chevron was plotting something. Everyone knew Leo was now the golden favorite of the President. With Democrats holding both houses, anything he wanted passed, passed.
If Chevron seduced him into harmful legislation, Gulf Oil would be doomed. Better to cut off the real estate arm entirely.
So they abandoned not just Gulf Realty, but even their stake in the Group—eighty million for their 3%.
Brookfield's director was stunned. Just days ago, things were fine—now chaos? And now, all eyes were on him. He knew if he failed to give Leo satisfaction today, he would be the chicken slaughtered to scare the monkeys.
"Mr. Valentino," he stammered, "please allow me to call headquarters. I'm sure they'll offer a solution."
He left, and Walter soon came to Leo.
"Mr. Marshall requests a conference call with you," he said.
Leo asked aloud, "Besides the Secretary of State, who else is on the line?"
Walter understood at once—it was a display of power.
"The Prime Minister of Canada, Louis St. Laurent," he replied loudly.
Gasps filled the room. Leo's influence was now undeniable.
Inside the private line, the Canadian Prime Minister wasted no time:
"Mr. Valentino, as I understand, your first fortune was thanks to Canada's White family, our largest timber suppliers. Canada is a developing economy. Brookfield is one of our flagship firms. I know your appetite is large, but could you grant us the courtesy of not forcibly acquiring it?"
His voice was old but sharp, invoking both past ties and national will.
But Leo had his own counter.
"Mr. St. Laurent, the Whites once advanced me half a million in timber. This past year, Brookfield's value doubled from fifty million to a hundred million. Even with many shareholders, I doubt the Whites got their fair share. Whatever I owed, I've repaid. Let's be honest—fifty million, and the American Real Estate Group redeems Brookfield's stake."
"Impossible," St. Laurent retorted. "We all know 3% is worth 180 million!"
"Mr. Prime Minister, it is my honor to speak with you. But you cannot have it both ways. I've repeated myself enough—when you gamble, be ready to lose. If Brookfield wants to retain any footing in America, my terms are their best option."
The Prime Minister faltered. Even Marshall stayed silent, his silence proof of support for Leo.
"Is there truly no better solution?" St. Laurent asked wearily.
"There is," Leo said smoothly. "Brookfield can keep 1%. The remaining 2% will be converted into equity in a new joint venture—between the American Real Estate Group and Brookfield, operating in Canada."
The Prime Minister froze. That meant opening Canada's market—something beyond his power.
When Leo next heard St. Laurent's voice, the answer was resigned:
"Mr. Valentino… proceed as you wish."
And so, Leo reclaimed 5% from Gulf and Brookfield. Of that, 2% was given to Merlin as compensation. With Altria's 10% exit, Leo now controlled 13% to maneuver.
General Motors, introduced by Marshall, bought 5% at a premium, joining Morgan as a shareholder. The remaining 7% Leo kept as bait for future allies.
Now, the American Real Estate Group's reach stretched east to west, north to south, across every corner of the nation.
The Washington Post commented acidly:
"A vast real estate trust now looms over America."
Trust was a dirty word. Dissatisfied, Leo ensured the bold reporter and his editor soon met their Maker.
After three years, Leo now commanded the largest real estate empire in America.
When news of the mergers—with Gulf, Merlin, Brookfield, and ventures in Italy and the Netherlands—spread, the Group's stock surged past sixty dollars a share.
The World Journal declared:
"Since the Great Depression, America has birthed another super-corporation at sixty dollars a share. The American Real Estate Group's triumph marks the dawn of a new Golden Age."
The headline read simply: "The Rise of a Dynasty."