The heavy door to the Mayor’s Office swung open with a sound louder than usual.

Leo strode out of his domain, clutching the budget proposal that Blake Finch and his team had worked on around the clock for more than ten days. In his other hand, he carried a large black tube.

He arrived at City Hall.

This time, Leo didn’t have Ethan make an appointment.

He didn’t need an appointment.

When a player holding five hundred million dollars in chips wants a seat at the table, no one dares to bar the door.

At the door to the Speaker’s Office, a secretary was touching up her makeup in a mirror.

Seeing Leo storming over, she subconsciously stood up, trying to perform her duties as a gatekeeper.

"Mr. Mayor, the Speaker is..."

"I know what he’s doing." 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Leo didn’t slow down in the slightest, walking straight past the secretary’s desk.

"He’s having lunch. Perfect. I brought him some light reading for his meal."

Leo pushed the door right open.

Inside the office, Thomas Moretti was sitting behind his desk, holding his signature Italian meatball sub.

Seeing Leo suddenly barge in, Moretti froze for a moment, his sub stopping mid-air.

This was incredibly offensive.

"Thomas."

Leo called Moretti by his first name.

He walked to the desk, opened the black tube, and pulled out a huge map of all of Pittsburgh.

WHOOSH.

The map was spread directly onto Moretti’s desk, covering his half-eaten sub and the napkin he was about to use to wipe his mouth.

Moretti’s brow furrowed, and his expression darkened.

He was about to erupt, but his gaze was caught by the dense markings on the map.

This was a special map.

All of Pittsburgh was divided into nine electoral districts, each marked with different colored blocks representing various public works projects.

Red for road renovations, blue for water pipe upgrades, green for park construction, yellow for school repairs.

And next to these colored blocks, specific monetary amounts were marked in bold black font.

"Twenty million."

"Five million."

"Twelve million."

Every number was followed by a string of zeros.

"I pulled some strings in Washington. I’m preparing to issue Pittsburgh municipal bonds." Leo planted his hands on the edge of the desk, leaning forward, his voice low and powerful. "Five hundred million US dollars."

Moretti narrowed his eyes, swallowing the rebuke he had been about to deliver.

He was a seasoned politician. He knew when to get angry and when to do the math.

Five hundred million US dollars.

Even for a man as worldly as him, the figure was staggering.

But he wasn’t entirely convinced.

"What connections do you have in Washington?"

"Murphy?" Moretti let out a sneer, wiping his sauce-stained fingers on the corner of the desk. "That old nice guy who’s just coasting on Capitol Hill?"

"Leo, don’t think I don’t know how things work in Washington. With Murphy’s pathetic bit of political capital, he couldn’t even secure a fifty-million-dollar guarantee, let alone five hundred million. You’re bluffing."

"Murphy certainly couldn’t pull it off."

Leo admitted readily.

"But Daniel Sanders can."

The corner of Moretti’s eye twitched.

Leo continued, "Senator Sanders has personally taken over this project. He’s mobilizing all his political resources on Capitol Hill, as well as his connections in the National Union Pension Fund, to personally run this bond issue for Pittsburgh."

"This isn’t some concept that’s still in the PowerPoint stage, Thomas. This is a strategic gamble by the entire Progressive camp in the Rust Belt. Wall Street has already received a clear signal. This money coming through is a done deal."

At the mention of Sanders’s name, Moretti fell silent.

He knew what kind of power that old man from Vermont wielded.

If Sanders himself was backing it, even personally working his connections, then the five hundred million US dollars was real.

Moretti’s gaze returned to the map.

As the Speaker who had operated in this city for many years, he knew every street and every district of Pittsburgh like the back of his hand.

He began to carefully scrutinize this five-hundred-million-dollar allocation map.

He saw the second district, Gavin Stone’s district, the wealthy area and commercial center. The map was marked with "Intelligent Traffic Signal System Upgrade" and "Commercial District Boulevard Beautification" projects.

The fifth district, Linda Rossi’s district, was allocated a "Municipal Office Facility Energy Efficiency Retrofit."

The ninth district, Pete Miller’s district, a conservative white community. It was set to receive funding for a "Community Security Monitoring System Upgrade" and "Old Police Station Renovation."

The entire map was covered in dollar signs and markers for impending construction.

Except for one place.

Moretti’s gaze froze.

The first district.

That was his stronghold, a place where a mere wave of his hand could secure him the ironclad votes for reelection.

On the map, the first district was a blank space.

There was nothing there.

Only the original gray street lines lay on the paper, surrounded by the other eight districts, which were drowning in money.

This blank space was like a giant black hole, jarringly conspicuous amidst the five-hundred-million-dollar feast.

Moretti snapped his head up, staring daggers at Leo.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Moretti’s voice was thick with suppressed rage.

"Are you trying to bribe the other council members to isolate me? You think that by tossing a few bones to Stone and Rossi’s gang, they’ll betray me? You’re too naive, Wallace. In the City Council, they wouldn’t dare fart without my permission!"