Leo was silent for a moment.

He pulled open a desk drawer, took out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one, taking a deep drag.

The acrid smoke swirled in his lungs, calming his mind.

Leo exhaled a smoke ring and stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray.

"John."

"Leave the lawsuit to me."

Leo’s voice was calm.

"I’ll take care of it."

"And I’ll take care of it very quickly."

"You don’t need to worry about the courts, and you don’t need to worry about whatever committee is behind this."

"You have only one job."

"Call your campaign donors. Call the Union leaders. Call every rich person you know."

"Tell them you haven’t withdrawn from the race, and you’re not going to."

"Tell them we’re going to see this campaign through to the end."

"Whether Washington gives us money or not, we have to secure our campaign funding."

Murphy was taken aback. "You have a plan? This is an antitrust lawsuit..."

"I have a plan."

Leo’s voice was filled with conviction.

"Trust me, John."

"I am the Mayor of Pittsburgh."

"This is my turf."

"Someone thinks they can come onto my turf and use a piece of paper to blackmail me—to blackmail this city."

"They’ve seriously miscalculated."

Leo’s eyes turned ice-cold.

"We’re going to send a message to Washington, to Harrisburg, and to Russell Warren."

"Pittsburgh does not tolerate blackmail."

"Not political, and not legal."

"Go on, John. Go prepare your speeches, prepare your fundraising dinners."

Murphy held the phone, listening to the absolute resolve in Leo’s voice.

He didn’t know where Leo found such confidence.

He had heard from Karen that when Morganfield’s top-tier, nationally-renowned legal team—hired at great expense—faced this antitrust lawsuit, their primary advice was to "stall."

Even those top lawyers, who had spent their entire lives navigating legal labyrinths, were at a loss. What made Leo, a young mayor, think he could solve it?

But then, an image of Leo’s face surfaced in Murphy’s mind.

That young face, with a fire burning in his eyes.

A few months ago, it was this same face that had dragged him, step by step, out of his comfort zone in the House of Representatives and pushed him into the gladiatorial arena of the Senate, a place of flashing blades and shadows.

He remembered how, during the primary, Leo had dug up dirt on Cortes and turned the tables in one fell swoop.

He remembered how, when faced with Moretti’s blockade, Leo had used almost insane tactics to blast open the doors of City Hall.

Every time everyone thought it was a dead end, this young man always found a path no one else dared to take.

And he always won.

’What am I still hesitating for?’ Murphy asked himself.

Sanders represented the past, the old order.

In that order, Murphy would forever be just a disposable pawn.

But Leo represented a force of untamed growth—one that refused to die, refused to be defined, and refused to be a discarded piece on some big shot’s chessboard.

Leo was already at the gambling table. He had pushed all his chips—his position as Mayor, his political reputation, even his freedom—to the center.

Withdrawing was death.

A slow death. A gradual decay in humiliation, spending the rest of his life watching Aston Monroe grandstand on television while he could only seek some pathetic comfort through confessions in his memoirs.

Moving forward might also mean death.

But at least it would be a death on the charge, a death in the glory of fighting for ideals and ambition, a death so spectacular that everyone would remember the name "John Murphy."

’Besides, would I really die following this young man?’

No.

This young man wouldn’t lose.

He had a fierceness about him that even fate seemed to fear.

Murphy took a deep breath and forcefully exhaled the stale air from his lungs.

In that instant, he felt his spine snap back into place.

He was no longer that meek Representative, no longer Sanders’s lackey.

He was Leo Wallace’s ally.

"Alright."

Murphy’s voice was low and firm.

"Leo, I trust you."

"To hell with Sanders, to hell with the National Committee. If they want a good little boy, they can go find Monroe in Philadelphia."

"This old life of mine, and what little pathetic political future I’ve scraped together—I’m betting it all on you today."

"As long as I don’t withdraw, they can’t just scratch my name off the ballot."

"As for that damned lawsuit..."

"It’s all on you."

He hung up the phone.

Leo let out a long breath. He had finally convinced Murphy to stay in the race. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

The passion that had erupted like magma just moments ago cooled instantly as the connection was cut.

Leo sat in his chair as a boundless sense of emptiness surged toward him from all sides like a tide, instantly drowning him.

His hands were still trembling slightly.

If Murphy had wavered for even a second, if he had chosen to bow to Washington’s pressure and withdraw...

Then he would have truly lost everything.

"You won your bet, kid."

Roosevelt’s voice rang out.

"But you’re walking a tightrope."

"You’ve backed Murphy into a corner, and you’ve backed yourself into one, too."

"Now, you have to deliver on your promise."

"If you can’t resolve that antitrust lawsuit, Murphy’s trust in you will instantly curdle into something far worse than hatred."

Leo covered his face with his hands, rubbing his palms hard against his skin.

"This is too hard, Mr. President."

Leo’s muffled voice, tinged with a hint of vulnerability, came from between his fingers.

"With every step I take forward, I have to sever a path of retreat behind me. Right now, it doesn’t feel like I’m walking a tightrope—it feels like I’m running on a razor’s edge."

"If my foot slips, even for a tiny mistake, I’ll be shattered to pieces."

"No one can help me. Everyone is just waiting to watch me die."

Roosevelt replied, "True politics is a path that only grows narrower the further you walk."

"When you’re a nobody, you have lots of friends. You drink together, you curse the world together, you dream together. Back then, the world is warm."

"But when you start to climb, when you start making decisions, when you start sacrificing the few for the so-called greater good, when you start trading away pieces of your soul..."

"You find that the people around you become fewer and fewer."

"Frank doesn’t understand you; he thinks you’ve changed. Sarah is afraid of you; she thinks you’re ruthless. Murphy depends on you, but he could break down from fear at any moment."

"They can share in your victories. They can feast on the prey you’ve hunted down."

"But they can’t share your fear."

"When you wake from a nightmare at midnight, when the whole edifice is about to collapse, when that life-or-death button has to be pushed..."

"There is only ever one person in this room."

Roosevelt paused.

"You."

"That is the fate of a leader."

"The night before Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation, his cabinet members opposed him, his generals mocked him, and the entire Southern States cursed him."

"In that moment, all he had was himself."

"It was the same for me."

"The night before I decided to enter the war, I sat in my wheelchair, looking out the window at the Washington Monument. I knew that once I signed that paper, tens of thousands of American boys would die in foreign lands."

"In that moment, no one could help me bear even an ounce of that weight."

"That is the ticket to power, and it is also its epitaph."

Leo listened to his words.

He felt a chill colder than any he had ever known, but he didn’t shiver.

Instead, he straightened his spine even more.

"I hate this feeling."

"Being reactive."

"Helpless."

"Like a drowning man waiting to be rescued."

"I hate being weak."

"I hate leaving my fate in someone else’s hands."

"It won’t happen again."