A few days later, in a nondescript bar, the TV was broadcasting Clint's resignation speech:
"Though I leave in disgrace, I still pray for Virginia's future to be bright."
Crash!
A flying beer glass shattered the screen.
"Hey, you asshole! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The bar owner grabbed the dead-drunk Eddie.
Eddie squinted at him drunkenly and slurred:
"I'm the governor's son. Your TV is showing fake news, so I smashed it."
"Governor's son, my ass! Clint's already resigned.
If you don't pay for the TV, I'm gonna beat you."
Eddie's pockets were empty. He couldn't even pay for his drinks, let alone a TV.
He ended up getting punched bloody and thrown out onto the street, battered and filthy.
His father had disowned him, and even reconciled with Eddie's divorced older brother.
They'd moved back to Virginia Beach, leaving Eddie to rot in Richmond.
Just a few months ago, he had been the talk of the city:
Chairman of the Freemasons fraternity at UVA, director of Londo Company, a millionaire, a so-called pioneer of the housing revolution, a rising star everyone wanted to court.
"It's all gone! All gone!"
Eddie sobbed through gritted teeth, rolling in the rain-soaked street.
"Want revenge?"
A bearded, haggard man who looked like a homeless drifter appeared in front of him.
Eddie blinked, then squinted in disbelief:
"Herbert!"
Elsewhere, in another grimy street-corner bar, the two of them sat in a dark corner.
"Herbert, I can't believe you even dare to show your face in Richmond.
The New York merchants put a $100,000 bounty on you."
At the mention of the bounty, Herbert's eyes flashed with cruel malice.
That bounty had been posted by his own kin.
They always liked to be thorough—no loose ends.
"What? You thinking of handing me in for the reward?
That could change your life, sure.
But you'd lose your one shot at revenge."
Herbert's voice was low and poisonous.
Honestly, until Herbert said that, Eddie had been planning to humor him and then turn him in.
But the word revenge made Eddie's eyes light up.
He leaned forward eagerly.
"You have a plan?"
"We used to get too obsessed with grand plans.
Sometimes things can be simpler.
I found out that bastard Leo is hosting the Virginia Real Estate Association's banquet at the Lynchburg Hotel.
At the same time, he's having his engagement party.
That'll be the peak of his twenty-year life—the moment he'll be most relaxed.
Maybe that's when we give him a little surprise."
Herbert's voice was dripping with venom.
"You're assuming too much.
Forget getting close to him.
He's no ordinary ex-soldier.
I bet you wouldn't even get your gun out before he killed you."
Eddie's excitement waned. He began re-evaluating whether turning Herbert in was a better option.
"I'm not that naive.
He has a beautiful fiancée, doesn't he?
Turning his wedding into a funeral seems like fitting payback.
I've already arranged a boat. Afterward, we flee to Argentina that very night."
Herbert's words oozed malice.
Eddie's eyes lit up again. He pointed between himself and Herbert.
"You know, this might actually work.
Look at us now—so ragged even our old friends wouldn't recognize us on the street."
While Herbert and Eddie schemed their revenge in dingy bars, in the lavish restaurant of the Lynchburg Hotel, another conversation was happening.
"Never thought the ones to finish off the Gurion family would be their own kin."
Leo mused aloud, silently reminding himself: Never trust a single word from a Jew.
"Nothing surprising. That's how Jews are."
Harry was sprawled lazily on a chaise, popping grapes in his mouth.
But then he suddenly sat up, a mischievous glint in his eye:
"Hey—did you piss off Thomas somehow?
He used to work his ass off to get you into the Democratic Party.
Now? Not only does he not help you, he shot down my proposal outright.
Used to be, he'd come for a massage three times a week.
Now he doesn't even show up once.
And you're holed up in this hotel the whole time.
Something definitely happened."
"Nothing really. Maybe because I'm getting engaged."
Leo said it calmly.
"Oh.
Well, that's too bad.
You just lost your fastest ticket to the top.
Anyway, don't forget to attend my inauguration when I become governor."
Harry clapped Leo's shoulder, but his tone lacked its usual warmth.
He didn't even stay to discuss any business—just left the hotel.
That was a politician for you:
Interests always trumped friendship.
That evening, the Lynchburg Hotel was a sea of guests.
Even though Harry and Thomas didn't show, it didn't stop politicians from all over the state from showing up.
Especially since, just at noon, the President himself had mentioned in a national address that Valentino Real Estate's suburban housing was a model for postwar America.
Of course, politicians were just one part.
Many more were small-time developers from all over the East Coast.
They had one purpose:
To join Leo's real estate association and get access to its biggest perk—near-free licenses and blueprints for suburban housing.
But once they mingled with the older members at the reception, they heard the stories of how Leo had led them to defeat the Bubble House.
As the conversation deepened, they were stunned by the association's abundant resources.
Banking ties were one thing.
But even the price of prefabricated materials the association offered was almost identical to what giant real estate firms paid direct to the factories.
These small and mid-sized developers immediately remembered the association's motto:
Serving the small and weak of today.
The atmosphere was electric.
Soon the simple reception upgraded into a full-blown ball.
Leo, in formal wear, moved smoothly through the crowd with the elegantly dressed Emily on his arm, greeting guest after guest.
Emily watched Leo deftly handle conversation after conversation.
She didn't understand a word of what he said, nor half the vocabulary he used.
Her lavish gown cost more than every piece of clothing she'd owned growing up—combined.
But it felt far less comfortable than her old denim jeans.
A small-town girl abruptly thrust into the role of urban socialite—Emily felt no joy at all.
Just awkwardness and sorrow.
Awkward because she couldn't fit in.
Sorrow because she realized she no longer understood Leo's world.
A stir ran through the crowd.
Emily looked up and saw Evelyn appear in the hall, wearing a sleek, understated purple gown.
Behind her was a grim-faced Thomas.
Their arrival completely quashed the recent rumors of a rift, pushing the event's energy to its peak.
In a quiet corner, Thomas growled at Leo:
"What the hell did you give Evelyn to make her so smitten?
She's never cared this much for any man—especially one who's already engaged.
I always thought my granddaughter was a lioness no one could tame."
Leo replied calmly:
"Evelyn often says—even the fiercest lioness needs a strong lion.
And I just happen to be one."
While the men traded barbs, the two women's conversation was far warmer.
They'd refused every dance invitation and tucked themselves into their own corner to chat endlessly.
But after a while, Emily's tone grew somber.
She stared dreamily at Leo across the hall and told Evelyn:
"I love him so much.
When he proposed, I was overjoyed.
But now... apart from that one thing, we have almost nothing to talk about.
Even when he pretends to listen, I can tell—he doesn't care about anything I say."
She tugged at her glittering dress.
"I don't belong here.
The only dancing I'm good at is country dancing.
I can't handle these fancy ballroom steps.
And the way these guests look at me—I can see their condescension.
Evelyn, I'm not going to marry Leo.
I know you like him too.
You're better for him.
You'll help him more.
I'm leaving.
I've always loved singing.
I asked my father to reach out to our relatives in DC.
They found me a place to study music in Austria.
I'm going to college, Evelyn."
"Why would you think like that?
Leo's a born conqueror—a lion king on the plains.
There's only ever one lion king, but he'll have many mates.
You can't tie him down.
Neither can I."
Emily studied Evelyn's face.
There wasn't a hint of pretense in it—only calm certainty.
Emily blinked in surprise:
"Evelyn... how can you even think like that?"