"Why don't we protect her together? Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem."
"No—they're very bad! Being locked in that room gave me time to think it all through.
There are too many people who want the Brown family destroyed. Londo Construction in Richmond, Mayor Patrick of Lynchburg, and that bastard Carlo.
But the scariest part? Someone out there is powerful enough to unite all of them.
The Brown family… is finished!"
Looking at Michael's defeated posture, Leo shook his head.
No wonder he managed to ruin such a promising situation. His cheap father-in-law wasn't just lacking caution and intelligence—he had almost no willpower.
He was targeted for a reason.
"Michael, Doat is dead—stabbed in broad daylight. His daughter thinks you ordered it.
Dorothy might be crying in the arms of the real murderer, Carlo, right now.
They're planning to pin everything on you. You're not just bankrupt—you're about to be named the mastermind behind a murder.
As long as you're alive, you're a liability to them. They don't plan on letting you live."
Leo's words hit Michael like a sledgehammer. Doat's death, his own looming ruin—it was too much to bear.
Cornered, a man will grab onto any lifeline offered.
"You must have a plan, Leo," Michael said hoarsely.
Leo shook his head. "First, we need to figure out who our enemies are—and who our friends are.
Let me ask you something, Michael. Just now, you said Mayor Patrick did background research on Londo Construction, and he emphasized that the company was connected to Governor Clint, right?"
Michael nodded.
"But when you introduced Patrick to me, you said he was a former campaign member of former Governor Thomas.
Tell me, Michael—what's the relationship between Governor Thomas and Governor Clint?"
Michael stared blankly, confused.
Leo sighed. "They don't exactly get along, Michael. Haven't you read the newspapers?
Former Governor Thomas publicly supported the current Lieutenant Governor Harry Biles.
Just recently, he attacked Governor Clint's administration, claiming his aggressive reforms would 'tear the whole damn thing apart.'
So think about it—doing business with a company linked to Governor Clint would naturally make you a political enemy in Patrick's eyes."
"But this is just business!" Michael protested.
Leo shook his head again.
"No, Michael. It's not just business. It's politics. It's about choosing sides.
You were cutting down so many trees that anyone standing in town could see the bald patches on the mountain.
To Patrick, all he had to do was stir up public sentiment, and the environmental law would pass without resistance.
He elevates his own image and destroys your deal—all in one go."
Michael looked full of regret now.
He recalled how Patrick had emphasized "Governor Clint" when describing Londo Construction, and he had stupidly thought Patrick was reassuring him of the company's reliability.
"Why does it all have to be so complicated? It was just business…" he muttered.
"Business?" Leo chuckled coldly.
Business meant money, and money meant power. In America, a capitalist nation, money is politics. But Leo didn't bother explaining further—he wasn't Michael's dad, after all.
"So, Michael," Leo said calmly, "I believe if we eliminate the misunderstandings, Patrick could still be persuaded to stand with us."
"And what about Carlo? Is he friend or foe?"
"He's just a glove—a tool. Neither friend nor enemy.
By the way, earlier you said someone recommended Carlo to you. Who was it?"
"Rock Meyer, the Agricultural Association chairman."
"Is he one of the Seven-Member Council?"
Michael shook his head. "No, the council never accepts Jews. But he's been trying to get in for years.
There were rumors that once Reverend Lester retires, Rock will take his seat."
"So he could also be your replacement, couldn't he?" Leo asked sharply.
Michael froze, then slumped down. "Yes... he could."
Leo nodded, then added, "One more thing, Michael. Londo Construction is a century-old company. Why would they target a small lumber mill like yours?"
Michael spread his hands, baffled. "I've been wondering the same."
"I suspect," Leo said, "that Patrick isn't truly working for Londo.
Someone behind Londo is pulling the strings—that's the one who really wants Brown Lumber.
As for why? We'll find out, as long as we keep disrupting their plans. Sooner or later, they'll slip up and show themselves."
Michael was stirred by Leo's words but soon slumped again.
"But time's running out, Leo. The 18th is the deadline. If we don't deliver that timber... the mill is gone."
"Did you never think about just buying the remaining 1,000 cubic meters? Surely the contract doesn't control your supply source."
"I'm not that dumb," Michael muttered. "I considered that before I even borrowed the money.
I contacted every mill around the Blue Ridge Mountains. Not a single one would sell without full payment upfront.
As for mills outside Virginia—I never got the chance. That's when they locked me up."
"Maybe I can handle that part," Leo said calmly.
Michael jumped up. "Really?"
Leo nodded. "But Michael—there's no such thing as a free lunch."
He pointed out the window into the still night.
"I'm taking risks for this, too. I'll need compensation equal to the risk."
Michael's expression turned complicated.
"War changes people," he said after a moment. "Even the Lynchburg Robin Hood gets practical. Fine—just save the mill."
They sat at a small table and debated for a long time before settling on the terms:
If they recouped the full $1 million, Michael would take 60%, and Leo 40%.
They also agreed to split the $340,000 loan from Carlo—half each.
Leo planned to use that money to purchase timber immediately.
Profits always brought smiles—until a cold wind blew in and Michael's face darkened.
"Leo, everything you just said—it's all based on assumptions.
If you're wrong… isn't sitting here discussing money just a joke?"