"The court has reached a verdict:
The defendant, Locke Meyer, stands accused of ordering a murder. The evidence presented in court is conclusive. The defendant is found guilty as charged.
He is hereby sentenced to 30 years in prison without the possibility of parole."
As the judge's voice faded, Locke was led to the police car by Jonathan, his face ashen and defeated.
As he climbed in, Locke suddenly asked Jonathan,
"What happened to my house?"
Locke's casino profits had once earned Jonathan a share, so he didn't avoid the question.
"Leo bought it."
Locke smiled bitterly. He thought of the telegram hidden in his desk drawer and glanced at Patrick, who was getting into another car, smug and satisfied.
Locke believed firmly—evil always meets its match in evil.
"I've already made arrangements with the prison. You'll be treated well,"
Patrick whispered to Locke's old butler in the back seat.
"In three years, you'll be eligible for parole. I'll make sure you enjoy your retirement."
Yes—the card Patrick was playing was none other than Locke's long-time butler.
He held a wanted notice for the man, issued out West, listing him as a former outlaw.
"Siro, drive. Head to Locke's estate—or rather, to Mr. Valentino's estate now."
Patrick's butler stepped out, and he gave orders to his secretary, Siro.
At Valentino's new estate, a grand ball was in full swing.
In just ten days, an unemployed soldier had become a town celebrity.
Leo was now the second most talked-about man in Lynchburg—after Desmond.
Unlike the usual formal balls, Leo's gathering featured folk music.
Onstage was Michael, already tipsy, leading a hearty chorus.
As the song ended, Emily—poised beside Leo like a true lady—lifted her gown and ran playfully to the stage.
She gave Leo a dazzling smile and sang.
Her clear, powerful voice stunned the crowd.
It was an old colonial ballad about love—Emily's heartfelt confession.
Every note stirred Leo's heart. This girl loved him, truly.
He'd always thought she had a lovely voice—but he never expected it to be this stunning.
"A voice sent from heaven, don't you think?"
Michael grinned as he walked up.
"Yes," Leo replied sincerely, eyes still fixed on Emily.
"She's the greatest gift heaven has ever given me."
He didn't notice Michael's face darkening beside him.
"Today," Patrick declared loudly,
"I am honored to announce that Lynchburg has birthed a new family—one that values honor and tradition."
His speech signaled the climax of the evening.
The once-despised youth now stood surrounded by people eager to speak with him.
It was November 5, 1945.
Fifteen days had passed since that life-or-death showdown.
Leo had been back in Lynchburg for 44 days.
And already, he had achieved in just six or seven months what he originally planned for a year.
"Gentlemen, may I borrow our host for a few minutes?"
Patrick, ever the politician, interrupted Leo's conversation with a perfect smile.
Inside the study, the noise and cheer of the ball faded.
Patrick nodded to Siro, who laid a thick stack of documents before Leo.
"Mrs. Meyer was quite cooperative. The transaction went smoothly," Patrick said.
But Leo didn't touch the papers.
Instead, he looked at the unfamiliar Siro.
"He's my secretary," Patrick explained.
"He's been in Washington helping me handle personal matters. A very capable assistant."
Leo smiled.
"Yes, I can see that Mr. Siro is quite sharp.
Could you give us a moment in private, Mr. Siro?"
His tone was warm but brooked no refusal.
"I am—" Siro began, but Patrick cut him off:
"Wait outside, Siro."
Once the door closed, Patrick admitted:
"He really is the one I trust most."
"I can tell."
Leo poured Patrick a cup of coffee to ease the tension.
He flipped through the documents quickly.
The mansion they were in.
Locke's farm on the outskirts.
A mountaintop in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Most of it was large in size but low in value—except for four plots of land that Leo was especially interested in.
The largest and least valuable was in the industrial zone, big enough for 50 homes. Leo planned to build apartment blocks there.
Two mid-sized plots:
One was at the foot of the Brown Lumberyard mountain—perfect for a future hotel district.
The other was near Lynchburg University and adjoined the land Leo was already developing, meaning the "Gospel Community" could be expanded.
The smallest but most expensive was right beside Lynchburg's main town area. Though small, its price per square foot was the highest—ideal for future commercial real estate. But Leo would hold off for now.
There were also a few suburban grain warehouses, storage yards, and several residences in town.
Altogether, the properties were worth over $400,000.
And how much had Leo spent?
Less than $200,000.
As the saying goes—"murder and arson bring gold belts."
Michael had contributed another $300,000 and received Locke's $400,000 farmland in return.
With the land inherited from the Brown family, Michael had now become Lynchburg's third-largest landowner.
On the surface, this father-in-law and son-in-law duo had struck it rich.
But the true winner was Patrick.
He had told Leo they would each contribute $500,000.
But at the final deal, Leo realized—Patrick had only paid $200,000.
And yet, he walked away with:
60% of Locke's land
A valuable grain futures trading license
From this day on, the town's grain exchange belonged not to Meyer, but to the Odo family.
Patrick had just become the largest farm owner in Lynchburg.
In all matters of grain in the town—nothing could bypass him.
What made Leo even more envious was how Patrick had quietly acquired Locke's properties in other cities and towns.
He had made a killing.
Leo had demanded extra compensation, but saw no sign of it in the paperwork.
"Patrick," Leo said coldly,
"What about the police station and the two bridge construction projects?
Are you planning to surprise me when the results are announced in three days?
I hope you're not backing out—after all, you promised your voters in public."
Patrick's smile vanished.
"Leo, no formal address now?"
"If you keep your word, you'll always be Mayor Patrick to me.
But I'm guessing you won't be honoring that loan you promised either."
BANG!
Patrick slammed the table and stood.
"Watch your tone!
A rickety company like yours taking on so many projects—you'll collapse!
Don't you dare threaten me using voters!
Let me be clear, boy:
What I give, you can take.
What I don't give, you can't steal!"
"Patrick, we've done business before. Spare me the theatrics.
Just name your price."
Leo's calmness caught Patrick off guard.
This young man showed none of the arrogance of a pauper-turned-rich.
For a brief moment, Patrick regretted underestimating him.
But then he remembered—his son's disaster in Washington and the huge sum needed to clean it up.
Leaning forward, Patrick said:
"Listen, kid.
You've just taken your seat at this table.
You don't get to decide how the game is played.
Those who follow orders can stay in the game.
Loans and projects? Possible.
But your company needs someone reliable.
I have just the person—a talent from Washington. Eric."