He was Jack Reynolds, the branch chairman of the dockworkers’ Union.

He’d worked on the docks for thirty years. His father and grandfather had worked here, too.

He commanded absolute respect among the workers.

Reynolds snatched the newspaper, his rough, large hands nearly crushing the paper.

He stared intently at the headline, the muscles in his face twitching.

He remembered how Frank Kovalsky had once sworn to him that Leo was a trustworthy kid who would put the workers’ interests first.

Reynolds had believed him.

He had rallied the brothers on the docks to vote for Leo, even personally driving retired old-timers with mobility issues to the polling stations on Election Day.

Now, this newspaper was telling him he was a fool.

He’d been tricked.

The shame of this betrayal enraged him more than the fear of unemployment.

"Chairman, what do we do?" a worker next to him asked, his eyes red. "Are we just supposed to wait around to be laid off?"

Reynolds slammed the newspaper onto the ground and stomped on it fiercely with his grease-stained boot.

"What now?"

Reynolds squeezed the two words through his teeth.

He turned and jumped onto a wooden crate stacked with goods.

"Brothers! Someone’s trying to smash our rice bowls!"

His roar drowned out the rumbling of the cranes.

"Someone took our votes and turned right around to make a deal with that vampire, Morganfield! He wants to use those cold, heartless machines to kick us off the docks! He wants us to go home and starve!"

"Are we gonna let that happen?!"

"NO!"

The roars of hundreds of workers merged into one, shaking the very surface of the river.

"Then we stop working!"

Reynolds pumped his fist in the air.

"Shut down the cranes! Lock the gates! Tell all the brothers on shift!"

"We’re going to City Hall!"

"We’re going to ask that Mr. Mayor sitting in his office if a dog ate his conscience!"

Ten minutes later, the entire port ground to a halt.

The cranes stopped running, and trucks lined up in long queues.

More and more workers poured out from every corner, their hands gripping hooks and wrenches, their faces filled with the fury of betrayal.

This army forged of anger marched out of the dock gates, heading toward the city center.

...

「City Hall, the Mayor’s Office.」

Leo was mentally reviewing his confrontation with Stone, talking it over with Roosevelt in his head.

"You did the right thing, Leo," Roosevelt commented. "Refusing him was necessary. The moment you accepted that change in sequence, you would have surrendered your administrative authority. Your base would have collapsed instantly."

"But you also need to be prepared."

"When a hungry lion makes overtures to you and you refuse to feed it, the next thing it will do is see you as food."

Just then, a cacophony of noise erupted from outside the window.

It was a sound Leo knew well.

The buzz of a gathering crowd, the low growl of anger suppressed in their throats.

The office door was thrown open.

Frank Kovalsky burst in, drenched in sweat. He’d even forgotten to knock, which was extremely rare for someone who had always been careful "not to cause trouble for Leo in the office."

"Leo! Something’s happened!"

Frank’s voice was filled with alarm.

"The dockworkers’ Union has exploded!"

Leo stood up from his chair. "What is it? Tell me slowly."

Frank didn’t say a word, simply holding his phone out in front of Leo.

On the screen was a breaking news alert from the *Pittsburgh Business Weekly*.

The article described in detail just how advanced the so-called "fully automated system" was: self-driving container trucks, unmanned gantry cranes, and a warehousing center controlled entirely by AI.

And at the end of the article, it even quoted an "anonymous high-ranking city official" as saying: "This will completely change Pittsburgh’s logistics landscape. While there will be short-term pain, it is a necessary sacrifice."

Leo raised his wrist and glanced at his watch.

Less than twelve hours had passed since Gavin Stone walked out of this office.

Morganfield’s counterattack had come faster and harsher than he’d expected.

What unsettled Leo even more was that even Frank—his old comrade-in-arms who had fought his way out of the mud with him—now had a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

Frank planted both hands on the desk, leaning forward.

"Leo, level with me."

Frank’s voice held a new, cautious, probing tone.

"I remember during the campaign, you did mention something about port renovation. Back then, everyone was focused on your community revitalization plan, so no one paid much attention to this Inland Port expansion project."

"But now, this news report makes it sound so real."

"Are you really planning to do that automation thing? Is it true what they’re saying—that you’d kick all us old-timers to the curb for the sake of efficiency?"

Frank stared into Leo’s eyes.

Deep down, he wanted to believe in Leo, to believe that this young man was different from all the other politicians full of empty promises.

But the situation was getting too heated.

The workers outside were all looking to him, waiting for him to bring back a definitive answer.

If he didn’t get to the bottom of this, he wouldn’t be able to face the brothers who had bet their lives and livelihoods on Leo.

"Frank, look at me."

Leo stood up, his tone exceptionally firm.

"I did promise to modernize the port. It’s a necessary step for Pittsburgh’s revival. We can’t cling to those decades-old cranes forever."