"I disagree! This goes against the national interests of the United States!"
Truman shouted at Samuel and Alfred, his voice echoing in the Oval Office.
These two actually wanted him to approve an expansion of the war—unthinkable!
What about America's international image? More importantly, such an action would severely harm U.S. interests in other parts of the world.
"And what about your personal safety, Harry?"
Alfred DuPont stood up, his tone dark and menacing.
The same old tactic again. But this time, Truman wasn't planning to compromise—he knew too well the kind of interests these men had in the Far East.
They'd never gotten over their losses there, and Truman also knew that General MacArthur desperately wanted to expand the war.
To go into an all-out confrontation with the newly established Red East would make him the most disgraced president in American history.
That was something Truman—a man who cared deeply about his legacy—could never accept.
"Even if it costs me my life, I will not expand this war. Alfred, go ahead and try—see if the next president supports you!"
Truman spoke with firm resolve.
As tension filled the room, Samuel stepped in to smooth things over.
"Harry, calm down. Do you really understand whose interests America's interests represent?"
Truman froze. As a farmer-turned-president, his policies were always tied to his personal reputation, but he had never really thought that question through.
After all, the massive profits resulting from policy changes didn't flow into his own pocket—he had no personal sense of what those "interests" really meant.
Seeing Truman's silence, Samuel continued,
"America's interests, Harry, are our interests. On the surface they appear unified, but in reality, they're not.
So, you should feed the ones who feed you.
Hunger is humanity's greatest enemy, and loss is capital's greatest enemy. If you starve the capital that supports you, then you become their enemy.
Harry, we know you want to be remembered as a great president. But legacies don't sustain themselves—they need constant promotion.
If your memoirs sell poorly after retirement, not only will you lose your financial security, but your legacy will fade away.
America's history isn't long, but there have been many presidents—only two or three are truly remembered.
And if the people who support you suffer too much loss, we can't guarantee what might happen afterward.
At best, there might be books like 'The Hidden Scandals of President Truman'—tarnishing your name.
At worst… well, let's not imagine that.
So, Harry, whether to expand the war or not—it's your choice."
Samuel was indeed a shrewd businessman. In just a few sentences, he had struck directly at Truman's weakness.
Truman cared more about his reputation than anything else—and reputation was now the only thing he had left.
He slumped back into his chair.
When Leo supported him, he had options.
Now, having alienated Leo, he couldn't afford to offend both Samuel and the DuPont family as well.
"You must promise not to expand the war further than the peninsula.
And you'll have to convince the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Secretary of Defense to submit the proposal to me. I won't initiate it myself."
Truman's final resistance.
Outside the White House, Alfred muttered,
"Maxim told me Douglas said the Eastern armies are worthless. I heard many still fight with machetes against the Japanese.
Without our and the Soviets' support, they could never have won.
If the war doesn't expand, our investments are ruined! Why did you agree to his conditions?"
Samuel smiled.
"I also promised him we'd only 'liberate South Korea,' didn't I?
He can't decide anything. Let's go. Truman's easy—the hard ones are the Joint Chiefs and Secretary of Defense Marshall."
Just as Samuel predicted, the generals at the Joint Chiefs meeting were divided over whether to expand the war.
Each had his own interests, making consensus difficult.
That, of course, was why Samuel and Alfred were there.
During every recess, the two men buzzed between rooms like tireless bees—probing, bargaining, offering concessions, paying "deposits," and sometimes issuing veiled threats.
After several rounds, opinions began to align.
In the final recess, Samuel and Will entered Defense Secretary George Marshall's room.
They'd tried several times before—always failing. This time was no different. Marshall refused outright.
They both knew Marshall's opposition wasn't just about supporting Leo; it was because their military-industrial interests overlapped.
In the vast defense industry, Marshall and Leo were allies.
"Leo is finished," Samuel tried again. "He won't recover—but you still can. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider?"
He'd already convinced the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the heads of the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines. Marshall's vote barely mattered now.
Still, his nod carried immense weight—it made everything smoother.
"You're that confident MacArthur can succeed in the East?"
Marshall's tone was icy. Unlike Samuel and Alfred, he was a true patriot—and he had no faith in the Far Eastern war. That was his real reason for opposing it.
Realizing persuasion was futile, Alfred resorted to threats.
"You'll regret this. A Defense Secretary who stops people from making money won't last long."
Soon after, the document approving war expansion landed on Truman's desk.
Under the watchful eyes of Samuel and Alfred, he signed—grudgingly.
That night, at the Valentino Hot Springs Hotel, Marshall sat in the private bath with Leo.
"I tried to stop it," Marshall sighed, "but like you said, it was useless. They've decided to expand the war. Our supporters will dwindle. Do you have a plan?"
"Things won't go as smoothly as they think," Leo replied. "You've never believed in this war, have you? Trust your instincts. And remember—MacArthur's the one leading it. That fool."
Marshall nodded grimly.
"Alfred was right about one thing—I've blocked everyone's profits. I might not last long as Secretary of Defense. Maybe if I stopped opposing, it'd help our business more."
Leo smiled faintly.
"Don't worry. If you stop opposing, they'll only get suspicious.
As long as you stand with me, your dismissal is inevitable.
So give me fifteen days—after that, you can resign voluntarily.
I'm already grateful you took this post despite your health.
Your presence alone has bought me time to prepare my counterattack.
You asked for my plan? Since they think you're blocking their profits… I'll cut off theirs instead."
Marshall's eyes gleamed.
"So you already have a new counterstrike?"
"Exactly. My people in South America and North Africa are back—and they've brought me the surprise I was waiting for."
At that moment, Tony Lip rushed in.
"Mr. Valentino, call from Mr. Morton—he says the Democrats have suffered a crushing defeat in the midterms!"
Leo turned to Marshall.
"Whatever happens, remember—so far, it's they who've been losing."
September 27: Truman signs the order expanding the war.
September 30: The Democrats lose control of both houses—Truman becomes a lame-duck president.
October 1, 1950: Under MacArthur's command, UN forces cross the 38th Parallel.
At the same time, DuPont and other military-industrial giants took control of the Pentagon's logistics arm, cutting off exports from Leo's defense companies.
They even removed his firms from the procurement lists for Far Eastern operations.
DuPont's purge was ruthless. His spy Jesse soon informed Leo that in addition to Samuel and MacArthur, David Rockefeller and Roland Morgan had joined the campaign.
Morgan's General Systems arm had backstabbed Leo's defense group.
With enemies closing in from all sides, veteran contractors like Colt rushed to find Leo—only to hear he had left for New York.
At the Rockefeller family's brownstone mansion in Manhattan, David Rockefeller greeted him with a sneer.
"Well, well, what a rare guest. Why not go to my brothers? Why come to me?"
"Because they can't help. Only you can." Leo replied calmly.
David's smirk deepened. He thought Leo was here to beg—to break the alliance against him and ease the pressure.
"Don't bother. You can't escape this time. You flipped the Southern Democrats to the Republicans—that alone was huge!
But by doing it without informing the Rockefeller and Morgan families, you crossed a line."
David was pleased. He believed Leo would soon lose his influence in the defense sector.
According to Roland's plan, as MacArthur won victory after victory in the East, Leo would lose everything.
Leo had been one of the few men ever to outsmart David—and David relished watching him fall.
Besides, there was nothing Leo could offer that he wanted.
After his last defeat, David had sworn never to compete with Leo in business again.
He had a grander plan—one that, once complete, would let him shape not just America but the entire world.
This time, he joined Roland and Samuel purely for profit—and even if the plan failed, the upfront payoff alone was enormous.
He wanted to see Leo humiliated.
"Spare me the act, David. Whether I did it or not, they'd still target me.
But you misunderstand me. Those men—my so-called enemies—are all my past losers.
I came here to discuss real business. If you're not interested, I'll take it elsewhere.
Then we'll become enemies to the bitter end."
Leo turned and walked away.
David told himself not to fall for Leo's tricks—but still, his heart skipped.
Leo wasn't just anyone; he was a man who became a billionaire in mere years.
As Leo was about to exit the room, David couldn't help blurting out,
"What business?"
Without looking back, Leo simply said one word—
"Oil."
The moment the word left his mouth, Leo knew he had him.
He hadn't come to beg—he'd come to bait.
If Leo had asked for help, he'd appear weak.
But by making David ask to hear more, he gained the upper hand.
As Leo exited the brownstone, Tony Lip opened the car door.
Just as he was about to shut it, a hand stopped him.
David stood there, jaw tight.
"I take back what I said. Any business Mr. Valentino is interested in—I'm listening."
Leo didn't even glance at him.
"Tony, drive."
"Leo, don't play with fire," David warned. "Some things are the Rockefeller family's core. Cooperate if you can—you don't want us as enemies."
But Leo wasn't a man who feared threats. Back when he imprisoned Lawrence, he'd already prepared to go to war with the Rockefellers.
He stepped out of the car, met David's gaze, and said coolly,
"I don't reject cooperation—but I've never feared war."
Damn it, David thought, I forgot—this man only yields to respect, not threats.
He quickly changed his tone.
"Our empires are too vast, Leo. A death match between us would only let others profit.
I apologize for my attitude. Let's go back inside and talk."