In Sacramento, the capital of California, Leo hosted a banquet at Carson Mellon's estate.
He had invited members of the Western states' Radio Commissions, among them Carroll Seipleweda—the same man who had mocked him earlier, predicting he would fail.
This time, the middle-aged man seemed less arrogant, perhaps scolded by his elders at home after his last outburst. He stepped forward first to apologize:
"Mr. Valentino, I'm sorry. Please forgive my earlier offense. But I still don't believe in your entry into the transmission tower business."
Yet in his words, Leo detected no sincerity—only casual indifference.
Clearly, his dismissive attitude sent his parents into a panic. After a brief pause, they rushed before Leo, bowing and pleading with far more humility than their son.
Leo turned his head toward the still-defiant Carroll, then said to his father:
"Everyone must pay the price for their actions."
These words further enraged Carroll, who shouted back:
"Mr. Valentino, I'm convinced you'll leave here empty-handed again today!"
His defiance was like a signal. One by one, Leo's talks with the other Western state commission leaders also failed.
But Leo's mood remained calm. When it came time for his speech at dinner, he didn't deliver a long address. Instead, he had someone bring out a television set.
"Before we begin, I'd like to play a recording for you. This is a bill just passed by Congress and signed into law by the President. I had it flown in overnight."
Under curious eyes, Leo switched on the TV.
The image of Congress appeared. Senate Majority Leader Thomas banged the gavel and proclaimed:
"Supplement to the American National Security Act, Article 138: Federal regulation of radio and future information equipment—passed."
The video then shifted to the Oval Office. The President signed Article 138 of the National Security Act and appointed Jess Beckett as Chairman of the Federal Radio Commission.
At the same time, he announced that for reasons of national security, the powers of state radio commissions were revoked. From now on, construction of information facilities in every state would be approved directly by the federal body.
When the video ended, the room fell into stunned silence—then erupted in protest.
"This violates the American spirit! The governors won't agree to this!"
one commission head shouted.
Leo smiled lightly.
"Unfortunately, your governors already agreed."
He then displayed signed copies of their governors' approvals, along with official authorization for the Valentino Information Company to build facilities.
"Mr. Valentino, did you summon us here just to humiliate us?"
demanded the director of Washington's Radio Commission.
"No, no. I'm not that idle. The Federal Commission has stripped your powers—meaning you're all unemployed.
But as you see, I've established the Valentino Information Company. So, would you like to join? You'll become regional directors, doing essentially the same work you do now.
The difference is—this time, I guarantee that as long as you meet my goals, you'll never worry about your livelihood again."
Leo's maneuver—firing them first, then rehiring them—left the entire room stunned.
In truth, Leo had no desire for people steeped in the inefficiency of American bureaucracy. But he had no choice. To rapidly blanket the West with signal transmission towers, such talent was scarce. Rather than searching endlessly elsewhere, it was easier to scoop them all up in one sweep.
Soon, the banquet had turned into a recruitment fair.
A large number of government officials were instantly transformed into regional managers of the Valentino Information Company. Leo was generous—each was assigned a quota of fifteen subordinates.
Of course, their departments would need more than that, but Leo wasn't running a charity. They could optimize their teams themselves.
Governor Earl of California watched in awe as Leo operated, until Leo walked over, writing a check as he approached.
"Mr. Valentino, what is this?" Earl asked, staring at the $100,000 check in confusion.
"The headquarters of the California Radio Commission. I've already had it appraised—that old building from the last century is worth sixty thousand. The extra forty thousand is my donation to the state government."
Leo smiled.
He wasn't just taking the people; he was buying out their headquarters too.
But where some rejoiced, others were left in despair.
Carroll, who had hoped to teach Leo a lesson, now stood with a purple face. Several times he tried to storm out of the humiliating event, but each time his father blocked him.
"Carroll, go apologize to Mr. Valentino. Otherwise, you'll be killed."
"This isn't the Wild West anymore. He wouldn't dare murder someone."
Carroll lifted his chin defiantly.
His father's face showed despair. His son, raised in a greenhouse, had no idea that society was still little different from a century ago—still survival of the fittest.
"Valentino is famous in the East for repaying every slight."
"Impossible! No one can make me bow to that greedy bastard. I'll unite everyone against him. The West belongs to Westerners—there's no place for an Eastern upstart's arrogance here!"
With that, Carroll stormed off. This time, his father didn't stop him. He had given up on his son—after all, he had more than one.
Leo's harvest, however, was far from over.
At the same time as the banquet, Warner Bros. president Jack Warner and 20th Century Fox president Darryl Zanuck entered the Los Angeles office of American Realty—the former headquarters of Mellon Real Estate.
In a bright conference room, they signed contracts long prepared by Toussaint.
Leo acquired 10% of both studios for a total of $10 million. This transaction marked his official entry into the film industry.
After signing, Jack Warner glanced at his old acquaintance Toussaint and asked with emotion:
"Toussaint, when did you fall under Mr. Valentino's banner?"
The question stemmed from the fact that Toussaint's WT Law Firm was one of the top three in the West, serving four of Hollywood's eight major studios.
Toussaint smiled. He had asked Leo whether their relationship still needed to remain hidden. Leo had said it was time to reveal this card.
"Jack, I'm a Virginian. I met Mr. Valentino back in 1945. You've always wondered who the 'W' in WT stands for, haven't you?
That's right—it's Mr. Valentino. He's the firm's largest shareholder."
Jack and Darryl's jaws dropped, stunned into silence.
The night before, Jack had collected as much information on Valentino as he could, preparing for cooperation. Thinking back on when Toussaint had come West, he realized something shocking—
At that time, Leo Valentino had still been just a small businessman in Virginia. Even then, he had already begun laying plans for the West!
With that realization, the last trace of Jack's resentment evaporated.
In Menlo Park, California, nearly 90% of the town's land was now owned by Leo and his friends. After James and MacArthur had discovered the town, Leo had spent heavily to purchase 60% of its land, while his brothers bought farms and ranches.
On a hill thirty kilometers away stood a magnificent Baroque palace: the Valentino Castle.
In his study there, Leo hung up after receiving Toussaint's report, satisfied.
This time, Leo had bought into only two studios. Unlike his earlier threats, he hadn't taken shares in all. Eastern allies had supported him, and though their help was limited, Leo believed in sharing the spoils.
From a long-term view, consolidating his network was worth far more than short-term gain. Thus, he allowed Lawrence Rockefeller to take shares in Paramount, while Brown Brothers Harriman invested in MGM. Other minor studios found their own patrons.
As for RKO—Leo had no intention of buying shares. He would take it outright.
Back at the castle, Leo felt oddly displaced. He was no longer the center of attention.
Ricardo and Maria were now entirely focused on the two pregnant women.
Emily, in particular, was nine months along, ready to give birth any day.
Leo wanted to visit, but the elders—excited to welcome new life—pushed him out. Not because of pregnancy taboos (in Western culture, visitors were not discouraged), but because Evelyn was inside too.
Ricardo, a man of strict morals who had loved only Maria his whole life, could tolerate caring for two women hurt by his son—but he could not bear to watch Leo's entanglements with them.
So Leo found himself in the children's room, watching TV with his younger siblings.
His 14-year-old brother, Luca Valentino, was in his rebellious phase. Much like Leo at that age, he was the ringleader among kids in Menlo Park. To his family's headaches, Luca had even been expelled from middle school—teachers powerless against the town's most influential family.
Now, a private tutor was doing his best to straighten him out.
His 11-year-old sister Bella, by contrast, was the town's beloved prodigy, adored for her kindness and nicknamed the "Little Angel."
Yet facing their older brother, both were reserved. Leo had left for the Pacific battlefield when they were very young, then buried himself in business after returning. Their time together had been scant.
But they understood clearly who had given them today's privileged lives.
From sharing a cramped attic in Lynchburg, to now each having a hundred-square-meter suite—it was all Leo's doing.
They admired him, but he also felt distant, almost unfamiliar.
Leo himself had no children in his past life; he didn't know how to interact with them. The three sat in long silence.
Bella, naturally quiet, didn't mind. Luca, however, squirmed on the sofa like it was covered in nails.
Finally, catching Leo's gaze, he blurted out:
"Leo, I don't want to study anymore. I want to learn business from you."
Then he instinctively shielded his head, used to his father's furious beatings whenever he said this.
But this time, the blow never came.
Peeking out, Luca saw Leo smiling at him.
"You're not going to hit me?"
"Why would I hit you?"
Luca's joy exploded. He jumped up.
"So you agree!"
Leo studied the boy climbing up the pole, half exasperated, half moved. Poor in academics, yes—but thick-skinned enough to be promising.
At Leo's level, Luca's grades no longer mattered. With ties to the Harrimans and the Bush family, Luca could get into Yale even with zeros across the board.
Leo's family base was still thin—only Lucas on his side. As his empire grew, centripetal force would weaken. At such times, he would need loyal kin like Luca and Bella to keep the family's fire burning.
"I agree. But, kid, you're not ready yet. Do you know Aldo?"
"Of course! Aldo visits way more often than you, and he always brings me great stuff."
Leo's face darkened. The brat had a sharp tongue too.
His smile vanished.
"Good. Since you're close, you'll go learn from him. And learn how to talk while you're at it."
"Great! Leo, I've always wanted to go to Chicago. Aldo says it's full of fun. When can I go?"
"Didn't you always want to ride my private plane? How about tomorrow?"
"What!" Luca's mouth fell open. He hadn't expected it so soon. But then he thought of Aldo's stories about Chicago's nightlife, and the boredom of Menlo Park. Excited, he nodded vigorously.
"Okay, tomorrow it is! I'm going to Chicago!"
"Chicago?" Leo said playfully.
"Sorry, Aldo's not in Chicago anymore. He's in Central America—studying bananas."
Without waiting for Luca's reaction, Leo scooped up the obedient Bella and walked out, leaving behind Luca's despairing howl.