Pittsburgh, Morganfield Building.

The numbers on the high-speed elevator’s indicator light flashed wildly, and the feeling of weightlessness pressed on his eardrums.

Leo Wallace stood in the center of the elevator, looking at his reflection in the mirrored stainless steel doors.

DING.

With a soft chime, the elevator stopped on the forty-fifth floor.

The doors slid open slowly.

Leo stepped out and was immediately hit by a wave of some indescribable tension. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

The sight before him made him stop in his tracks.

This was supposed to be a spacious, open ballroom.

Now, it had been transformed into a colossal war machine.

The space, spanning hundreds of square meters, had been divided by temporary glass partitions into a dozen functional areas.

Over a dozen massive desks were pushed together, piled high with mountains of case files and folders.

Countless black cables snaked across the floor, connecting dozens of servers and high-resolution monitors that blinked with blue light.

There were at least twenty people here, all uniformly dressed in impeccably tailored, dark bespoke suits.

Some were growling into their phones in low voices, others frantically scrawled complex flowcharts on whiteboards, while another group was gathered around a long table, dissecting a document word by word.

A female assistant in a professional suit walked over quickly, made a welcoming gesture, and guided Leo through the bustling maze.

As Leo walked past the desks, he saw the badges on their chests.

Wachtell, Lipton, Rosen & Katz.

Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom.

Cravath, Swaine & Moore.

These names would mean nothing to the average person, but in the legal world and on Wall Street, they represented the top of the food chain.

These were the top-tier law firms that handled mergers and acquisitions, antitrust cases, and life-or-death litigation for Fortune 500 companies.

Every lawyer here, even a junior associate sitting in a corner reviewing documents, had an hourly rate of over eight hundred US Dollars.

And the partners sitting at the main table giving orders—their time was billed by the minute, and every minute was worth a fortune.

This was an army built of USD.

Leo reached the end of the hall.

There stood a massive long table, facing an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the miniaturized city of Pittsburgh below.

Douglas Morganfield sat in the head seat.

He held a thick cigar, his expression calm amidst the swirling smoke.

Seeing Leo, Morganfield didn’t get up. He simply pointed to the empty seat beside him with the hand holding the cigar.

"Sit, Mr. Mayor."

Leo sat down, his gaze sweeping over the four lawyers seated on either side of the long table.

These men were all over fifty, with graying hair and sharp eyes.

There were no mountains of documents in front of them, only a few thin sheets of paper.

They were the generals of this army.

"This is your reaction?" Leo asked, looking at Morganfield. "You don’t seem surprised."

"Surprised?"

Morganfield chuckled and flicked the ash from his cigar.

"Leo, what do you think a monopoly is? It’s the most dazzling jewel on the crown of commerce. To claim it, you must always be ready to face the swords of your challengers."

"From the moment you and I signed that franchise agreement, I knew this day would come."

Morganfield gestured at the busy figures around them.

"I never fight a battle unprepared."

Morganfield’s voice carried a powerful confidence—an ease forged from countless victories in the business world.

"Don’t worry, Leo. My sources tipped me off long before that so-called ’Free Trade Promotion Association’ even filed their lawsuit."

"In the United States, justice is expensive."

Morganfield took a drag from his cigar, smoke billowing from his nostrils.

"But the good news is, I can afford it."

He turned his head and looked at the lawyer seated first on his right.

He was a thin, elderly man wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

"Bennett, tell our Mr. Mayor how we plan to deal with these guys who are trying to steal food from my plate."

The lawyer named Bennett gave a slight nod and pushed up his glasses.

His voice was perfectly steady, devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

"Mr. Mayor, we have already studied the plaintiff’s complaint in detail."

"Section Two of the Sherman Antitrust Law. This is a very serious accusation. If we’re found liable, not only will the franchise agreement be voided, but the Morganfield Group will also face enormous fines and the risk of a breakup."

"However, the law is all about procedure."

Bennett said slowly.

"We have no intention of getting entangled with them on the core issue of ’whether this is a monopoly.’ That’s a trap. It would bog us down in endless economic debate."

"Our strategy is: procedural strangulation."

Bennett opened the folder in front of him, pulled out a complex flowchart, and pushed it toward Leo.

"Step one: question the plaintiff’s standing."

"The plaintiff is the ’Pennsylvania Free Trade Promotion Association,’ a non-profit organization that was established less than three months ago. We will file a motion with the court demanding the plaintiff disclose its funding sources and membership composition to prove it has substantive legal standing in this case."

"If they cannot prove they have suffered direct economic damages, the judge will have to dismiss the case."

"And once they disclose their funding sources..." A cold smirk appeared on Bennett’s otherwise rigid face. "We can follow the money, find out who’s pulling the strings, and then countersue them for abuse of process and unfair business competition."