"You know so much. There's no way you haven't left yourself a fallback plan."
Leo didn't believe a single word of Patrick's seemingly heartfelt candor.
Thanks to microexpression analysis, the old man's Oscar-worthy performance had no effect.
Leo's question cut straight to the heart of it.
This time, Patrick genuinely felt a sense of regret.
His usual triple-threat tactic—mood swings, threats, and sweet talk—had failed entirely on this one person.
Seeing that bluffing wouldn't work, Patrick returned to his neutral expression and said:
"Of course I have a fallback. But it's just a last-ditch sacrifice.
Your appearance, however, gives me hope that we can win it all.
This is America—no one thinks making too much money is a problem.
If we work together, not only will Michael come out fine, I'll make sure you get a handsome reward."
"You need me—"
Before Leo could finish, the door burst open. Jonathan walked in with Michael, and Joseph stood guard outside. He had escorted Michael here.
"What happened?"
Leo and Patrick asked in unison.
Seeing Patrick glance over, Leo tactfully said,
"Why don't we talk outside."
Jonathan remained inside—it was clear he would be briefing Patrick.
Once they were out, Leo asked Michael,
"What happened?"
Michael, pale and dejected, handed Leo a court summons.
The content was straightforward:
Richmond-based Londo Construction was suing Brown Lumber for breach of contract.
They demanded enforcement of the penalty clause:
Confiscation of the lumber already delivered, and compensation of one million dollars in cash.
The case would be heard at the Campbell County Court—right here in Lynchburg.
The plaintiffs had refused to negotiate, and the trial was set for September 18.
"You said you had a solution, Leo?"
Michael asked, clinging to him like a drowning man to driftwood.
Leo did have a plan, but this place was crawling with ears. He also wanted to test something, so he deliberately raised his voice and asked:
"Michael, didn't you say you were just $160,000 short of the full million?"
Michael looked confused but instinctively replied,
"Yes."
"Mr. Patrick has already promised to forgive you. I think he might be willing to lend us the money."
Leo then turned around and knocked on Patrick's office door.
He knocked for a long time.
Finally, the door opened, and Jonathan stepped out with a cold face.
He said to Leo,
"The mayor is feeling unwell and needs to rest immediately."
Leo said in surprise,
"He was just—"
Before he could finish, Jonathan cut him off brusquely:
"Patrick told me to let you know—he's not Emily's godfather!"
Then he gave Leo a quick wink. Clearly, this act was instructed by Patrick himself.
As they walked away from City Hall, Michael finally couldn't help but ask:
"Leo, what were you doing back there?"
"I was testing whether Patrick had lied to me."
"And the result?"
"It confirmed what I already thought:
Never trust a single word a politician says."
Leo had seen right through Patrick.
His ambitions were even greater than Ben's. That "sacrifice the pawn to protect the king" story? Nonsense.
Patrick was clearly playing for winner takes all.
Maybe Ben initially planned to use Patrick,
But the wily politician had figured him out in no time.
Then he went with the flow—targeted Michael, pushed for that "Environmental Protection Bill," and used it to score political capital.
Chances were, he liked Ben's resort plan too,
So he turned a blind eye to Ben going after Michael.
Leo was certain:
When the dust settled, Patrick would be the one left to clean it up, and the one who walked away with the biggest prize.
He wouldn't be surprised if Ben and Rock Meyer were both on the old man's dinner plate.
So this was what "Old Blood" aristocracy looked like.
Even a small-town mayor could be this formidable.
"Leo, can you really secure the lumber?"
Michael finally asked the question that had been gnawing at him.
"Relax, Michael. If I'm right, the lumber should be en route already."
"Good.
Looks like you didn't make Patrick your friend after all,"
Michael said with a sigh of relief, half-joking.
"Well, at least I got him to take us off his menu."
"Extra! Extra! Fresh off the press! The Lynchburg Times! Read about Lynchburg's very own son of God!"
A paperboy's voice caught the trio's attention. Joseph flagged him down and bought a copy.
The front page featured a large photo of Desmond wearing a military helmet.
Above it in bold headline type:
"Shocking! The Man Chosen by God—Desmond from Lynchburg!"
The article wasn't long; Joseph finished it in a few steps and looked up, saying,
"Boss, this is written just as well as your stuff."
"Idiot—look at the byline,"
Leo said, jabbing the bottom right corner of the paper.
There it was: By Leo Valentino.
They were walking down the most bustling street in Lynchburg, lined with cafés, bars, and restaurants.
Leo looked around—most people were reading the Lynchburg Times, completely engrossed.
Seventy years before the age of clickbait, Leo's "shock-style" headlines were already enlightening the townsfolk.
"What?! That's where it ends? What did the military tribunal decide?"
A man exclaimed, annoyed.
Others joined in, demanding to know what happened next.
"It's a serialized nonfiction story. Next installment prints tomorrow,"
the paperboy explained cheerfully.
Dozens immediately pre-ordered tomorrow's paper. The boy beamed with joy.
"Wait, is this story real? Does anyone actually know Desmond? Is he really from Lynchburg?"
"I do. He's a devout kid."
"Yeah, he's engaged to that nurse, Dorothy."
As the crowd chatted excitedly, Desmond—formerly a name in print—suddenly became real and tangible.
"Let's go meet him!"
"Yeah! Let him tell us the rest of the story himself!"
A group of townsfolk, with no urgent business, began heading out of town.
"Desmond's not back yet, is he?"
Joseph asked Leo.
Leo nodded, deeply satisfied.
The first wave had landed beautifully—
A well-placed cliffhanger really did spark the crowd's interest.
After a quick lunch, Leo made his way to the shop across from Lynchburg College—his family's old grocery store.
His uncle's family was already there, surrounded by packed bags.
They were ready to leave—just waiting for Leo to pay up.
Inside, the shelves were bare.
True to form, his stingy uncle had done a clearance sale before leaving.
Leo didn't bother to argue anymore.
With their grandfather as witness, money changed hands, papers were signed—
The Valentino Grocery Store officially changed ownership.
"All right, boys—let's get to work."
With Leo's command, and to the astonishment of their relatives, Sean and the others rushed in wielding sledgehammers.
Lynchburg Real Estate's first official project—the renovation of Valentino's Grocery Store—had officially begun.