To truly win them over, Leo wasn't done with his masterstrokes.
He cleared his throat and continued,
"These past seven days have been tough, and many of you have stood out.
That's right—Bertie Horton, and you too, Ray Blatt."
Leo named eight young men in succession.
"It's clear to everyone that these guys worked the hardest. When someone delivers, they should be rewarded.
And no, not with empty praise from my mouth like a fart—
but with something real... something named Benjamin Franklin!"
His voice rose, charged with energy, and when he mentioned Franklin, he gestured to Sean.
Sean understood and stepped toward a table set up in front of the stage.
A cloth covered it, but as Sean whipped it away, neat stacks of cash were revealed.
The crowd of employees gasped—eyes lighting up instantly.
"Each of these stacks is five hundred dollars.
Every quarter, our company will select eight outstanding employees.
And this—" Leo swept his hand toward the money, "—is their reward.
Now, Bertie Horton, Ray Blatt... you eight, what are you waiting for? Come get your cash!"
As Leo finished speaking, the eight men walked up to the table, dazed with disbelief.
They hadn't built a single house yet, had been eating free lunches for a week—and now this?
But even more stunned were the others watching.
Especially those who had secretly laughed at the eight for trying too hard—now filled with regret.
Many cursed themselves silently: Why did I slack off? I'm just as good as they are!
Leo, seeing the hunger in their eyes, knew he had achieved his goal.
But he wasn't done.
He stopped the eight as they turned to leave.
"Don't go just yet," he said loudly. "Now, let me explain the company's future personnel structure."
"We will form four project teams.
Team One will be led by Sean, Team Two by Daniel, Team Three by Joseph, and Team Four by Charlie.
Each team has twenty members, and Kevin will be the chief engineer.
Each project team will split into two squads, each with its own captain who reports directly to the team leader.
And the captains of these squads—will be you eight."
There was a collective groan from the audience as reality set in.
Leo continued, "Squad captains will get a 50-dollar raise in their weekly salary."
One voice from the crowd couldn't hold back anymore:
"Boss, can we train another seven days?!"
Laughter and agreement followed from all sides.
Leo smiled. "Regret it now, huh? But I'll tell you something:
In this company, there is such a thing as a second chance."
"After each quarter, we'll reevaluate.
The two worst-performing squads will have their captains replaced.
And the two best captains? They'll be eligible for promotion to team leader.
As for the worst-performing team—its leader will also be replaced."
Leo now turned his gaze to Sean and the other leaders, who all snapped to attention immediately.
"But let me make something clear—
malicious competition, sabotage, or scheming against teammates will result in immediate termination and a permanent blacklist.
And if I find out... I promise your life will be miserable."
The room tensed, but in a way that radiated motivation.
Everyone was itching to prove themselves.
After the speech, Leo gave the majority of the team a half-day off.
Then he took the newly formed management team into the conference room for a short meeting.
The agenda was simple: assign responsibilities for each project group.
Currently, the only confirmed project was Phase One of the Gospel Community—
a development on land leased from the church.
During the afternoon training sessions, Kevin had already been teaching about ranch-style architecture and modular prefabricated materials.
The meeting's structure was pre-planned—Kevin would assign the work tasks.
When the allocations were done, Kevin wrapped it up:
"We're still short on half the funds.
The materials are already ordered and should arrive within a day or two.
If all goes well, we break ground the day after tomorrow."
After the meeting, Sean and the others went to brief their teams.
Kevin held Leo back.
"Leo, you can't keep using your own money to fix every company problem.
That's not how business works."
Leo nodded with appreciation.
"Thank you, Kevin. I'm on my way to fix the money issue right now."
Inside the Lincoln Continental, Toussaint was complaining.
"I came here to be your lawyer, not your damn chauffeur."
Leo chuckled. "You know what they say—if you're capable, you'll be worked to death."
Toussaint grumbled, looking out the window.
"What are the Lynchburg cops even doing? The roads around City Hall are completely blocked."
Leo sat up, peering through the window toward City Hall.
The scene was chaotic—farmers with pitchforks, sitting on tractors, completely surrounding the building.
They shouted obscenities, clearly furious.
At the center of it all, disheveled and harassed, stood Patrick.
Leo smiled. "You've done good work, Toussaint. Looks like the grain merchants are already taking action."
Eventually, Leo had to detour to reach Lynchburg Bank.
As soon as the car pulled up, Dick enthusiastically opened the door for Leo, his mistress in tow, leading him to the VIP lounge.
Seeing Dick's glowing face, Leo teased,
"Doing well for yourself, huh, Dick? I take it you're no longer mad about me forcing you to approve those veterans' loans?"
Dick bowed slightly, pouring Leo coffee as he replied obsequiously,
"Of course not! How could I? In fact, it's thanks to that loan program that I got promoted to branch director."
Back in September, the Truman administration had paid the banks interest subsidies for veteran loans.
That one move changed everything—banks realized the government was dead serious.
Overnight, loan officers were knocking on veterans' doors, eager to hand out loans.
Dick had been forced by Leo to approve over 500 loans—
what once looked like a black hole had turned into a gold mine.
Thanks to his early actions, Dick's bank—once a minor player in Virginia—became the first to cash in on the interest program.
His foresight earned him recognition from headquarters.
Combined with help from his wife's family, Dick became Lynchburg Bank's director.
Of course, Leo knew better—without the leverage of certain compromising photos,
Dick wouldn't have even let him through the front door.
In a cordial atmosphere, Leo secured a $300,000 loan using the church housing project contract as collateral.
"Won't Patrick give you trouble over this?" Leo asked.
Dick snorted.
"Patrick did call a meeting with all the bank managers, warning us about investing in your ventures.
But aside from the few banks that work with him closely, no one took him seriously.
He thinks he's untouchable? Nobody stands in the way of banks making money."
Leo could tell Patrick had tried to pressure the banks without offering anything in return—
a poor tactic.
Clearly, Patrick was desperate.
Which worked in Leo's favor.
"I remember Mrs. Teresa's uncle is the regional director for First Bank of Virginia, Campbell County branch, right?"
Dick nodded.
"That's right. Why?"
Leo smiled.
"Then allow me to invite you and Mrs. Teresa to dinner tomorrow.
We'll discuss your potential candidacy for the Lynchburg Council of Seven."
His target: Councilman Anderson—
Patrick's longtime friend, and president of First Bank of Virginia.