On a hill by the lake just outside Lynchburg,
Jonathan stood grimly, staring into the distance at the Lakeview Manor.
It had only been one day since the missing persons report was filed, yet he had already tracked the trail here.
First, because he'd previously helped Patrick cover things up.
Second, because Patrick's men didn't even try to hide their behavior.
For a seasoned detective, when you already know who the suspect is, solving the case becomes trivial.
But at this moment, Jonathan was deeply conflicted.
He could play ostrich when it was kids from out of town.
But the daughter of the town's own baker?
He couldn't bring himself to turn away.
In his mind, one phrase kept repeating—his oath when he was sworn in as an officer in Washington, D.C.
"Need a smoke?"
Leo's voice suddenly sounded behind him.
"You're like a crow—wherever death is, you're there."
Jonathan took the cigarette.
"No. I'm the angel of judgment," Leo replied with a shrug. "I expose the darkness and punish evil."
"You're not qualified," Jonathan said coldly.
"But you are. The question is: will you act?"
Leo pointed toward Lakeview Manor in the distance.
"That's an iceberg."
"And when every volcano erupts at once, an iceberg has only one ending—melting."
"I'm not young anymore," Jonathan replied quietly. "I only have one torch left."
Leo understood the implication. This old guy would only act once the wall was already crumbling.
If the wall held steady, he wouldn't make a move.
In front of Lynchburg Academy,
a new public speech had just ended.
Watching the long line of people registering in front of Valentino's Grocery,
Fox muttered to Andy,
"Looks like our reputation-smearing strategy has failed."
Andy's face was dark.
He and Fox had executed the plan Patrick devised.
In theory, it had been flawless—a surefire way to destroy Leo's Lynchburg Construction Company.
And yet, it had been completely defused!
Andy, trying to save face, grumbled,
"That punk took on the dirty renovation jobs. We should thank him—it frees us up to focus on real business, like custom homes and new developments."
Fox curled his lip, inwardly sneering at Andy's stubborn denial.
He knew that as Leo's projects neared completion, their growing reputation would soon spill over beyond just renovations.
At that point, price-cutting and smear tactics would be useless.
Moreover, lately Patrick had grown visibly impatient when they met, distracted by the rising unrest in town.
Fox had already started questioning whether it was worth sticking with Patrick and Andy.
After all, he and Andy had been dragged into this alliance by Patrick—forced partnerships never last.
Still, regardless of what he thought, Fox said aloud:
"You'd better get up there and rehearse.
If half as many people show up tomorrow as today, you'll lock in your seat on the seven-member council."
Andy's real reason for being here wasn't to spy on Leo's business—it was to rehearse his election speech.
The stage outside Lynchburg Academy hadn't been built for Desmond either.
It was election season—starting mid-October, the small town of Lynchburg entered its campaign cycle.
On December 8, the new seven-member council and the new mayor would be elected.
Normally, the townsfolk didn't care much.
After all, it was usually the same seven guys running every time.
But this year was different.
Father Lesterwin's term was ending.
And the frontrunner, Locke, had mysteriously been imprisoned—bringing new energy to the race.
Andy smoothed his thinning hair, grabbed his script, and stepped onto the stage.
"Go get 'em, Dad!"
David said weakly.
He had overheard Andy and Fox's earlier conversation.
More importantly, he could see with his own eyes:
Leo's company hadn't gone down—it was thriving.
Remembering what he had done that day, David felt his face burn with shame.
Andy's voice was loud, but his speech was flat and emotionless.
Untrained, his delivery lacked rhythm and heart.
Attracted by the booming volume, some people stopped to listen.
But within a few moments, they began shaking their heads and walking away.
"Man, what the hell is this speech?"
"Yeah, it's nothing compared to Desmond's."
"I can't even tell what he's trying to say."
Already nervous, Andy started to panic.
This wasn't like yelling at employees in his office—expectation brought pressure.
His words faltered. He stuttered.
He thought back to the year when Ned, a Lockheed Martin executive stationed in Lynchburg's industrial zone, had given a speech.
Back then, Andy had thought Ned did worse.
But now, he didn't feel so confident.
He couldn't understand that the townspeople, fed on Leo's expertly crafted scripts for Desmond,
no longer had the patience for his dull, tasteless words.
"That was a great speech, Mr. Andy!"
"Truly a man who cares about housing and Lynchburg's development."
A few voices of encouragement rang out from the crowd.
Andy looked up, surprised and delighted.
Then his expression quickly turned black.
"Leo! What are you doing here?"
David, too, saw who had spoken and stormed toward Leo in anger.
Before Leo could say anything, Joseph cut in:
"David, aren't we standing on the grounds of Lynchburg Academy?
This is church property, not Jones Realty's."
"Yeah, David," Charlie added.
"Don't you think your father gave a great speech? We were listening very attentively."
Retribution had come too quickly.
David's face flushed red.
He wanted to strike someone but didn't dare.
So he just stood there, trembling with anger and shame.
Leo realized something—David was all bark and no bite.
In fact, the one who delivered the finishing blow to David wasn't Leo or his friends.
It was his own father, Andy.
Andy stepped in front of David, shielding him. He glared at Leo.
"If you've got something to say, say it to me. Going after my son makes you a coward."
What Andy didn't see was David's face turning pale at his words.
His mouth opened as if to speak—but no sound came.
Suddenly, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed with a thud.
Chaos ensued.
Forget the speech—Andy scooped up David and rushed him to the hospital.
"What a lightweight," Joseph muttered.
Leo shot him a look—he had no intention of mocking David like that.
Leo wasn't going to let David off the hook, but there was no need to stoop that low.
His brothers were still too young—immature.
Leo had come here mainly for Fox.
The knife had already been drawn.
Now, Leo would use every means to chip away at Patrick's power—until the day he could strike the killing blow.
Seeing Leo approach, Fox walked toward him and said:
"Patrick told me that three real estate companies are too many for Lynchburg.
I agree.
I used to believe the weak deserved to die.
Now I think—it's those who can't keep up with the times who deserve to die."
Leo couldn't help but admire this fat man's flexibility.
His ability to pivot was astounding—even Lü Bu from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms seemed loyal in comparison.
The two of them smiled and shook hands—a meeting of minds.
"I believe you received that employee screening list Charlie gave you," Leo said.
"That was a token of my sincerity.
And as a smart man, I'm sure you understand what that means."
Fox's expression shifted.
"That list... it wasn't me who—"
"Charlie's a good, honest kid," Leo interrupted.
"He'd never have dinner with you unless I asked him to.
And if he didn't dine with you, how would you have gotten that list?"