Senator

In the core area of the Richmond Fan District, stepping into this place felt like stepping back to the late 18th century America.

The buildings on both sides were full of a heavy historical feel.

Walter, who was temporarily driving for Leo, couldn't help but ease off the accelerator.

The roar of the engine clashed with the tranquility of the community.

Following the servant's lead, Leo, carrying a gift, walked into the Senator's residence.

The classical Roman columns, neoclassical-style sculptures, fountains, and old patterned ceramic tiles all showcased the understated luxury of the place.

The servant guided Leo to the backyard, where a thick, towering oak tree appeared before his eyes.

As the son of a lumberjack, Leo immediately recognized that the tree must be several hundred years old.

This wasn't just a house with a tree planted in it; the house was clearly built around this tree.

Clever, playful, and curious!

Seeing Leo's astonishment, the servant proudly lifted his chin.

After serving the Senator for many years, no visitor had ever seen this tree without being amazed.

But his proud expression quickly turned to one of panic.

Leo followed his gaze.

On one of the thick branches of the oak tree, there was a long-rope swing.

At that moment, the swing was soaring high, nearly level with the thick branch, about 4 meters off the ground.

On the swing, a young girl, with wind-blown dark blue attire, was laughing merrily in the morning light.

She was unaware that after years of swinging, the branch had become dangerously strained.

The servant, fully aware that the swing was no longer safe, panicked.

"Miss!"

The servant rushed towards the swing, but Leo was faster.

With his sharp gaze, Leo had already seen the crack in the tree trunk widening quickly.

The branch snapped!

The girl plummeted rapidly, her fear of death leaving her speechless, tears streaming down her face.

"My parents hoped that when I died, I would return to that dream-like grassland."

In that critical moment, Leo reached her.

He caught the falling girl in mid-air, pulling her into his arms.

With his legs bracing, Leo gave a slight jump and rolled sideways to avoid the large, descending branch.

Everything happened so quickly.

The servant, still in shock, stared at the fallen branch, then hurried over to Leo's side, asking the girl in his arms:

"Miss, are you alright?"

The servant spoke, but it was awkward to maintain the embrace.

Both Leo and the girl felt a certain wistfulness, but for different reasons.

The tension was palpable.

As Leo helped the girl to her feet, she instinctively sniffed the air with her sharp nose.

She glanced at the servant with mild reproach.

Since her parents' passing, she had felt a long-lost sense of safety in this man.

It reminded her of the nights in the wilds of Africa when her father would hold her while they gazed at the stars.

"Thank you for saving me.

May I know your name?"

The girl, a true lady, lifted her skirt and curtsied slightly in gratitude.

After the life-threatening moment, Leo had a chance to properly look at her.

She seemed a year or two younger than him.

Her brown chestnut hair swayed in the breeze, and her green eyes were as warm as the Aegean Sea.

She was tall and graceful.

Leo recalled their brief embrace.

She was undeniably a woman in full bloom.

"Leo Valentino, from Lynchburg.

No need for thanks."

Just as the atmosphere grew increasingly charged,

a deep, calm voice interrupted.

"It seems I've missed something.

I've always said, Evelyn,

that swing was bound to break.

Thank you, Mr. Valentino, for saving my mischievous granddaughter."

Thomas Stanley Morton.

His silver hair glistened, his vitality unmatched despite his 67 years.

His sharp eyes and well-maintained skin made him appear much younger than his age.

Seeing Evelyn still staring intently at Leo, Thomas, a little resentful, said:

"Evelyn, you should be going to piano lessons now.

For today's incident, I'm punishing you by banning you from the backyard for two weeks."

Under the garden's Roman-style pavilion,

Thomas stopped the servant from starting the timer and said:

"Mr. Valentino saved Evelyn. No need to time it."

Moments later, Thomas put down the letter Patrick had sent to Clint, then turned to Leo:

"So, you've come to tell me that Patrick has chosen Clint?"

Thomas's tone remained unchanged, but internally, he held disdain for the young man in front of him.

This was yet another person who thought they had some crucial piece of information and came to flaunt it.

Thomas, however, decided that since Leo had saved Evelyn, he would give him a fair chance, as long as his demands weren't excessive.

After all, in the world of politics, everything could be negotiated.

There was no "thank you" without something in return.

Leo understood Thomas's suspicion.

This was a one-time opportunity; he had to use the favor he earned.

"Sir, considering I just saved Evelyn,

please take a look."

"Hm?"

Thomas was surprised.

Leo had already cashed in his favor.

Had he misjudged this young man?

Thomas picked up the documents from the desk. When he began reading the FBI internal investigation file, he put his leg down from the chair.

When he read the secretary's account of the events, his body leaned forward, and his brow furrowed.

But when he saw the photos—those taken by Faith from the livestock pen—his anger surged.

However, as an old politician, his face remained expressionless.

Thomas knew that once this filthy, unimaginable case broke,

it would tarnish his carefully cultivated image as a traditional conservative.

If his opponents got their hands on it, it would be as if he had lost control—worse than a scandal.

Normally, these types of problems wouldn't even register for Thomas.

He had plenty of ways to cover them up.

But now, with his open conflict with Clint in the party,

he couldn't afford to let this issue slip.

Thomas, for the first time, gave Leo a thorough look.

Suddenly, he didn't find the young man as irritating anymore.

With one hand holding the FBI documents and the other tapping on Patrick's photo, Thomas said:

"You've prepared well. I'm sure you have a solution.

So, what is it you want?

Don't tell me you don't want anything, young man.

That would be too expensive for me. I'll handle it myself."

Leo took the FBI file from Thomas's hand, scratched out Patrick's name,

and then snatched the photo of Patrick from his other hand, tearing it to pieces.

By doing so, Leo implied that Patrick would not appear in the news—Patrick would die.

This was his solution.

Then, Leo said:

"Sir, I don't want much.

I only want a relatively fair environment."