Leo agreed that the Rockefellers' entry could boost American Realty's stock price, but when it came to the transfer of managerial rights represented by those shares, he scoffed.
Such talk was only for show—Leo never believed the Rockefellers would hand over their premium real estate assets to be managed by someone else.
"You lack sincerity, Lawrence. Everything you've said runs counter to the efficiency you claim to pursue.
Here's my counteroffer: the Rockefeller family can hold 3% of American Realty.
I don't need your properties. American Realty has no plans to enter the hotel or commercial real estate sectors for now, let alone get involved in asset-backed property management.
And I believe the Rockefeller family won't be short of funds to purchase shares."
As soon as Leo finished, John Jr. pointed at his sons and laughed:
"What did I tell you? Your usual tricks don't work on this young man.
Do you know who I see in him?
Your grandfather!"
"Thank you for the compliment, but I am nowhere near John D. Rockefeller. He is my idol," Leo said.
Inwardly, Leo sighed—this family was truly formidable, each member with sharp minds.
They were the very image of "brothers fighting the tiger, fathers and sons going into battle together." To achieve their goals, they'd use every trick in the book.
Old John looked as if he were mocking his sons, but in reality, he was handing them a way out.
"See how humble he is? Exactly the same as before. Lawrence, when you face someone who can pierce straight to the essence of things, just tell him the low offer you gave yesterday."
Before Leo could respond, John Jr. pressed again.
This wasn't just a way out—it was practically laying the opportunity at Leo's feet, making it impossible for him to refuse.
Lawrence forced a smile, his acting as natural as breathing.
"Leo, 3% is far too little. For a family of the Rockefellers' scale, it's practically an insult.
Here—six hundred million to acquire 10% of American Realty. That's market price, and more than enough to show our sincerity."
"Management rights still handed over to me?" Leo asked.
"I was joking earlier," Lawrence said, dead serious now.
A joke? No one spends six hundred million in real money and then gives up managerial rights.
"Ten percent at market value doesn't appeal to me.
And I don't mean to boast, but even without Rockefeller backing, American Realty's stock will break seventy dollars.
Mr. Lawrence, I hope my refusal won't harm our friendship.
Or worse—tell me, if I refuse, will the Rockefeller family become my enemy?"
When Leo's sharp gaze swept across them, everyone present thought of the legend that followed him among the elite:
the undefeated madman who rose again and again from desperate situations, who turned defeats into victories, who fought enemies without rest!
Lawrence told himself the Rockefellers could crush Leo if they wanted—but unless they had lost their minds, who would spend tens of billions in resources fighting a pointless war?
And that's not even counting the risk of failure.
The Rockefeller family name wasn't worth that much.
Lawrence and David exchanged glances before revealing their second card. By now, he no longer mentioned "efficiency," because he knew: money was what really mattered.
"Leo, we spend much of our time in New York. Lately, your retail stores are all the rage.
We hear you're competing with Sears. At a critical moment, we could help accelerate their downfall."
At that, Leo lifted his eyes to glance at David.
"Sears went to Chase Manhattan for a loan?"
"Hah, sharp as ever. You're right. So—what do you say? Does this condition bring us closer to consensus?" Lawrence asked.
"I want to ask you something, Lawrence. If you—using only the resources you personally control, not the whole Rockefeller family—wanted to bring down Sears, would you need outside help?"
Leo's words made Lawrence's eyes narrow. He realized that the chip he had prepared had suddenly become worthless trash.
American Realty's brilliance was blinding—so much so that people instinctively overlooked Leo's influence elsewhere.
"Go on, Leo. The fact you're still here means I must have something that interests you," Lawrence said.
"I heard the Rockefeller family holds shares in Westinghouse Electric."
Leo hadn't finished when David cut him off:
"Sorry, Leo, but Westinghouse shares are not for sale."
For a company the family saw as highly promising, the Rockefellers already wished they owned more. There was no way they'd sell to anyone else.
"Choose another condition, Leo. Westinghouse is deep water. Believe me—that's not something you can touch right now," John Jr. said gravely.
It was the most formal tone he'd used since the meeting began.
"No, gentlemen, you didn't let me finish.
I don't want Westinghouse shares.
What I want are shares in NBC, which is owned by Westinghouse.
If you can persuade them to let me in, I'll agree to sell 10% of American Realty to the Rockefellers—for six hundred million."
This condition stunned everyone present. None of them understood why Leo wanted to buy into a television station.
Everyone knew television represented the future, but at present the technology was still crude.
Black-and-white broadcasts, fragmented state networks, heavy government regulation, and steep entry barriers all stifled growth.
Few wanted to waste resources on an industry that required long-term investment and patient cultivation.
The Rockefellers were shrewd businessmen. Their instinct was to end the negotiation here and now.
They'd long thrived by exploiting information asymmetry. When faced with an unknown, they were wary—terrified of someone else slipping in to steal what should be theirs.
Just then, Nelson, who had been silent the entire time, spoke:
"Mr. Valentino, are you laying groundwork for your soon-to-be-formed news group?"
Every head turned in surprise—even Leo's. But their astonishment wasn't the same.
The Rockefellers were stunned because they had only heard of Leo's two influential papers, The New Journal and The World. Since when had a "news group" appeared?
Leo, on the other hand, was shocked: how had Nelson learned about a project he had tightly sealed from public view?
Nelson smiled faintly, a trace of pride in his voice.
"Robert is my good friend. I heard he needed money, but strangely, he didn't go to Chase Manhattan. Out of curiosity, I asked him.
Don't misunderstand, Leo—he is a man of discretion. When he gives his word, he rarely breaks it. But as luck would have it, I am one of the very few exceptions."
Having cleared that up, Nelson turned to lecture his brothers:
"You all limit your understanding of Mr. Valentino to America.
In your minds, you think: in three years at most, he has only managed to root himself here.
But in reality, beyond your sight, Mr. Valentino has quietly completed many industrial layouts.
And what is about to emerge should be the international news group my friend spoke of.
And where will this new multinational corporation be registered?
In the very place everyone has overlooked—the United Kingdom!"
The moment he finished, the Rockefellers' eyes changed. They knew the power of media—indeed, that was why they'd bought into Westinghouse, to influence NBC.
Now, staring at the overly handsome young man before them, they realized he had silently built a group of his own—in media no less!
"So, Mr. Valentino," Nelson concluded, "perhaps it's time we talk seriously."
Before he could finish, David snapped angrily:
"Second Brother, you broke the rules—"
But his words were cut off by Old John's voice:
"Enough! Leo, my children are shocked by your brilliance. Could you grant us some time to discuss among ourselves?"
John Jr.'s earlier look of detached amusement was gone.
Now, Leo smiled.
Without this episode, he might really have believed the five Rockefeller brothers were united as one—an unstoppable force. That would have been terrifying.
But Lawrence's earlier insistence on clearing everything with his brothers revealed the truth: without unity, the family was a collection of divergent ambitions.
And divergent ambitions suited Leo perfectly.
He preferred to reel them in one by one, breaking them apart at his leisure.
Glancing at his watch, Leo recalled the precaution he had prepared. Before entering this house, he had worried the Rockefellers might try to pressure him into accepting conditions.
So he had arranged for Noodles to barge in one hour later with an "emergency."
Even without pressure, the plan still worked fine.
Sure enough, just as the Rockefellers were waiting for his reply, a commotion erupted in the hall. Seconds later, Noodles burst past the guards into the room.
Before he could speak, Leo frowned and barked:
"Noodles, do you not see where you are? Such disrespect! Apologize to the Rockefellers at once!"
Noodles reacted instantly. Without hesitation, he bent low and said,
"My apologies, gentlemen, but I have urgent cause."
Then he turned to Leo:
"Boss, bad news—something's gone wrong in business. You're needed immediately."
Surprise flashed across Leo's face, then he looked at the Rockefellers with sincere regret.
"My apologies, gentlemen. I must see to this. Honored Mr. John Rockefeller, I will invite you next time to continue our discussion. Thank you for hosting me today."
The Rockefellers were taken aback. Since their forefathers made the name Rockefeller famous, this was the first time someone had voluntarily walked out of this room.
The first time someone had dared to refuse the family's favor.
Nelson and David's faces darkened with anger—but almost at once, they remembered: the young man before them was one of the very few who had the right to refuse them.
"Ahem… very well. Young men are busy. Thank you for coming today," Old John said.
In his car, watching the brownstone fade into the distance, Leo's smile turned cold.
Each Rockefeller brother wanted in on his business. What did that mean?
It meant his ventures overlapped with each of their future plans.
Optimistically, this could mean a powerful alliance.
But that required Leo to be stronger than them. If not, then it would be the classic case of two tigers on one mountain.
And why were they so confident about stepping into his empire?
Where did they get the certainty that they could one day harvest his assets?
After thinking, Leo found only two possibilities:
Either he died, or he suffered a catastrophic defeat.
His death? Impossible. Not only was he personally formidable, but his security detail was organized to modern standards, enforced strictly by Joseph.
He was confident his security force was the strongest of this era.
That left only one possibility: a crushing defeat, followed by opportunists swarming him.
But Leo wasn't being arrogant—given his current strength, even if his enemies united, they could hardly topple him. And besides, since when had enemies ever truly been united?
Only one thing could change the tides: timing and circumstance.
But how could timing be so easily seized?
Wait.
Leo's expression hardened.
There was indeed one man among his enemies who could manipulate both timing and the will of the people—
"Noodles, ask Turner how deep our infiltration in Japan is.
I need to know exactly what MacArthur is up to."
Meanwhile, the Rockefellers were also reviewing the meeting.
But the mood was far less cordial.
"Nelson, you broke the rules! Why didn't you tell us this yesterday?"
With Leo gone, Jack no longer bothered calling Nelson "Second Brother" to show harmony. He called him by name, glaring furiously.
Nelson shrugged.
"I already explained. I only uncovered this last night, after we adjourned. Especially the international news group—that I confirmed this morning, after calling the Earl myself."
"Then why didn't you say so earlier, while we were waiting for Leo?" Jack shot back.
He didn't believe Nelson at all—he was certain his brother had known long before and had deliberately withheld the information.
Nelson gave him a strange look.
"Did you forget, dear brother? I was following your rules. Major secrets stay hidden. Weren't you the one who said 'our eldest can't keep any secrets'?"
"You—!"
Caught in his own words, Jack sputtered, finger shaking at Nelson but unable to reply.
"Enough!" John Jr. barked.