The more interests converged, the more complicated human hearts became.
For a family like the Rockefellers, there was never such a thing as true brotherly harmony.
Old John knew very well how he himself had become head of the family.
In order to avoid the chaos of inheritance disputes that could damage the Rockefeller interests, he had chosen to delegate the authority of "joint decision-making" to Jack.
But clearly—where there was policy, there would be countermeasures.
Having been tricked several times by both the family and Jack, Nelson had also figured out ways to bypass the "majority rules" principle.
Little John slammed his gentleman's cane onto the expensive coffee table, stood up, and stormed into his room.
Before closing the door, he turned to the few brothers in the living room and, with fire in his eyes, said:
"Since each of you has your own plans, then go ahead and do as you please.
But don't forget—keep an eye on MacArthur at all times.
If, by the time he launches his plan, you still haven't secured the business with Leo that you're so interested in—and our family fails to maximize profits because of that—don't expect the Rockefellers to cover your losses."
After their father disappeared into his room, the Rockefeller brothers quickly dispersed like scattered birds.
Lawrence, the only one who hadn't finished his business during the meeting, immediately ordered his driver to head toward the Empire State Building.
But he came up empty—Leo wasn't there.
Through Charlie's office, Lawrence learned that Leo was at the New York headquarters of Valentino City Retail instead, and rushed there.
On the way, his driver—who had been waiting earlier at the Empire State Building—bought a copy of The New Journal.
Bored, Lawrence casually flipped through it, then narrowed his eyes and muttered under his breath:
"Why is there still news about Sears here?"
He said this because the front page carried a detailed report on Sears' new measures in response to the challenge from Valentino City Retail:
for example, temporarily closing underperforming stores for renovations, and even imitating Valentino's idea of creating multiple customer rest areas.
These moves were understandable. With funding support from banks like Chase Manhattan, Sears had acted swiftly in the fiercely competitive retail industry.
What puzzled Lawrence was—why would The New Journal, Leo's own propaganda platform, help publicize Sears?
The driver, who had been with Lawrence for many years and picked up some business sense by osmosis, offered an explanation:
"Actually, I think it's pretty clever. This way, The New Journal looks more objective.
Besides, not just them—The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal also ran the same stories.
And it's not only in New York. Yesterday, my parents back in Pennsylvania asked me when Valentino City Retail would open in their state.
They said they wanted to enjoy the benefits of competition between the two companies."
The driver's words reminded Lawrence of what Leo had once said at the old brownstone.
Leo had the strength to crush Sears outright—but chose not to.
Instead, he was deliberately using Sears, leveraging competition to build momentum for Valentino City Retail.
A brilliant move!
Lawrence admitted he had learned another lesson today.
Unlike his brothers, who only eyed Leo's assets, Lawrence did not believe in fishing with a poisoned well.
To be honest, years of dealing with young people had taught him that America's future market potential was enormous.
The Rockefellers could not monopolize all wealth; cooperation was inevitable.
Others might not understand this truth, but Lawrence was convinced that Jack—being of similar age—must also know it.
The difference was, Lawrence valued the talent of a potential partner, whereas Jack, seasoned in finance, always prioritized background and pedigree over ability.
The New York headquarters of Valentino City Retail stood in a modest three-story building at the end of Wall Street.
The first floor was a retail store; the third floor housed the company's headquarters.
As Lawrence entered, he happened to see Leo shaking hands at the entrance.
Beside Leo stood Walker Walton, the CEO of Valentino City Retail, recently featured frequently in the papers. He seemed to be introducing the newcomer to his boss.
This immediately dispelled Lawrence's doubts.
Previously, he thought Leo's excuse about "having other matters" was just a polite dismissal.
Now it was clear—Leo truly was busy.
After waiting for their introductions to finish, Lawrence stepped forward at the right moment and said:
"Leo, forgive my sudden visit—I'd like to continue our previous discussion.
But since you're occupied, I don't mind waiting in the store's rest area."
He pointed toward the simple chairs behind the glass window.
Leo noticed the questioning look in the eyes of the man he'd just shaken hands with, and explained:
"This is Mr. Lawrence Rockefeller."
The name had an immediate effect.
The man—Vincent Tom, a small businessman from Pennsylvania—hurriedly bent forward to shake Lawrence's hand.
If even facing Leo made him feel lacking in confidence, then meeting a Rockefeller was simply overwhelming.
At the same time, his perception of Leo shifted dramatically.
If a Rockefeller was willing to wait in such a modest setting just to talk business with him, then his decision to sell shares and management rights had been absolutely correct.
Sure, the "Uncle Tom's" store name would soon vanish from Pennsylvania.
But that was fine—under pressure from Sears, the business wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway.
Rather than going bankrupt, wasn't it better to hand it over to someone who could truly generate profit?
Even with fewer shares, as long as total profits grew, the Tom family would still enjoy the returns.
Leo could read Vincent Tom's face clearly.
Even though this was a voluntary offer, Leo knew he now owed Lawrence a small favor—because it was Lawrence's name that helped tip the balance.
A debt was still a debt.
Sitting downstairs, Lawrence sipped the free "membership coffee" for the first time in his life—cheap and nearly undrinkable.
Watching Leo and the others go upstairs, he sighed inwardly at Leo's efficiency.
Just yesterday, his driver's parents had been wondering when Valentino City Retail would open in Pennsylvania.
And today, Leo had already secured the acquisition of a local retailer.
How could someone like that not make a fortune?
With Rockefeller backing, Vincent Tom had no objection whatsoever to the $8 million buyout price.
The negotiations went so smoothly they could only be described as silken.
By noon, Leo was already back in front of Lawrence.
"Although you've done me a small favor, my terms remain unchanged.
From this morning's talks, I suspect Westinghouse's shares have already fallen into Mr. Little John's hands.
So tell me, Lawrence—what exactly is the purpose of your visit?"
Leo spoke calmly.
"You guessed right. I don't hold Westinghouse shares, so I can't help you secure NBC.
But while I don't have a major Eastern network, I do have a weakened version out West.
I wonder if you might be interested?"
Lawrence replied.
Leo leaned forward, intrigued:
"The West? Where exactly?"
At this point in time, America's national television networks were not yet fully established.
Good programs in the East couldn't be broadcast live in the West; like films, they had to be physically transmitted.
Each state had its own small stations, but with his knowledge of the future, Leo knew most would eventually go bankrupt or be absorbed.
Still—there was one exception.
California.
With its booming population and economy, California's future influence would rival that of the East.
Moreover, Los Angeles was home to Hollywood, a natural content production hub.
Though the film industry remained hostile to television, Leo was confident—there would always be people willing to bend for money.
If Lawrence's station was in some remote place like Washington State, it would mean little.
But if it was in California, that was another story entirely.
"California. To be precise, Los Angeles.
Don't worry, Leo—I know what you're thinking, that it's just some small station.
Come now, I'm a Rockefeller. The companies I take interest in are only 'small' compared to the Eastern giants.
Ever heard of KTLA? It used to belong to the Dumont Network, but after Dumont collapsed, KTLA became independent just last year.
They were strapped for cash, and I funded their transformation.
They were the first in America to launch a dedicated children's block—a group of very creative young people run it.
What do you think?"
Leo had never heard of KTLA. Clearly, in the television industry's future battles, this station had failed to leave a mark.
But it didn't matter. The world was already diverging from his past life.
And with his media experience and foresight, Leo believed he could build a station that would one day influence not just America, but the world.
"Do they have a broadcasting license?"
Leo asked. There were plenty of illegal stations at the time, so he had to be cautious.
"Of course. When they split from Dumont, they acquired everything they needed."
"What about channel resources?"
Leo pressed. In the early days of television, broadcast frequencies were limited.
Some stations had licenses but no transmission resources—forced into the weak position of mere content providers.
"Rest assured—every Californian with a TV watches their nightly news and children's programming. Profits are stable, and their technical standards are compatible with the East."
Lawrence's last words were deliberately weighty.
He knew someone like Leo would never be content with a small local station—his sights were set on national expansion.
And compatibility was crucial. Some small stations locked themselves into unique formats, limiting their growth.
Leo nodded slowly.
"Impressive. Yes, I'm interested. But Lawrence—business is business. You know very well KTLA is still nowhere near NBC."
His meaning was clear: if Lawrence wanted 10% of American Real Estate, this offer alone was insufficient.
Lawrence smiled.
"True. Most of the family's political resources lie with Nelson, but I have my own network—I can influence quite a few congressmen.
That National Housing Act you're pushing in Congress—I can help you there."
"That's useful," Leo replied, "but still not enough."
Lawrence had come prepared.
"You know very well, Leo—once the National Housing Act passes, American Real Estate will no longer be able to hide in the shadows, raking in unchecked profits.
Antitrust investigations will surely follow.
And while you wield influence in politics, you must understand—those politicians only crave your wealth.
If sacrificing you could further their careers, they wouldn't hesitate for a moment.
Believe me, when you're standing in that loathsome congressional chamber, facing their relentless interrogation, you'll realize—wealth means nothing there."
Leo's gaze sharpened.
"So what are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting you need an expert to prepare you in advance for antitrust proceedings.
And no one—no one—knows how to handle antitrust better than the Rockefellers.
Standard Oil may have been broken apart, but the Rockefeller family still firmly controls America's vast oil empire.
If you take my advice, I promise you this: even if American Real Estate is split apart one day, ultimate control will still remain in your hands."
For the first time, Leo was truly intrigued.
In this era, building a powerful, unsplittable non-financial giant was nearly impossible.
But if he could learn the Rockefeller secret—how to maintain control even after forced divestitures—that would be invaluable.
Because Leo knew—American Real Estate would not be his only dominant enterprise in the future.
Every company he built would eventually face the same challenge.
He also knew that, in his previous life, he'd never been close enough to learn this kind of knowledge.
No "golden finger" could replace firsthand Rockefeller expertise.
At last, Leo extended his hand.
"Deal. But tell me—without your brothers' support, are you sure you can raise six hundred million in cash?"
The question was a deliberate wedge.
Lawrence shrugged.
"Cash alone? Difficult. But what if I contribute my hotels and commercial real estate instead?
Of course, if you're not interested, I can always mortgage them to raise the six hundred million."
Leo hesitated. At present, during the golden age of housing and infrastructure, diverting focus into hotels and commercial property seemed unwise.
But he also knew—the boom wouldn't last forever.
In the long run, hotels and commercial real estate were the true future of the industry.
So Leo smiled, already plotting in his mind—especially with Jesse Real Estate in the West slowly being hollowed out, opportunities were opening.
Lawrence departed to arrange financing.
For Leo, cash flow was paramount—especially given his recent heavy spending.
After acquiring Pennsylvania, Leo swiftly moved to buy up other struggling local retailers across the Northeast.
Most were already being squeezed to death by giants like Sears, so they gladly sold their companies to him.
Valentino City Retail expanded at lightning speed—fueled by its rising reputation.
Under mounting pressure, Claude had no choice but to grit his teeth, take another loan, and launch a full-scale price war.
Soon, it became a daily ritual for ordinary Americans in affected cities: every morning, the first thing they did was buy The New Journal.
On the front page, they would see a detailed comparison of which store—Sears or Valentino—offered the better deals that day.
And even in states without a Valentino presence, these articles were widely read.
People there grew increasingly frustrated—angry that they couldn't enjoy the discounts.
They protested at local Sears stores, demanding equal treatment, while also flooding Valentino City Retail's headquarters with letters begging them to open locally.