"See? Our first order's already here," Leo said. "Think of how many houses need to be built after three years of war. Now, back to the earlier question."
He pointed to himself, then to the others around the table. "Who are we? In all of Lynchburg, we represent the poorest bunch of folks—no exceptions. Desmond, don't lump us in with everyone else. Not everyone is as broke as we are.
Yes, the war caused supply shortages. But that also means people haven't been spending money. Many families have saved up. Just because we can't afford $5,000 doesn't mean others in town can't. If even 50% of them choose to renovate or rebuild, it's enough for us to change our lives.
Once we gain enough experience and figure out how to turn a profit, we can expand beyond Lynchburg. We'll move into Campbell County, and maybe even Richmond someday. After all, haven't we pulled off enough miracles together?"
Leo's words stirred something in everyone. They were the poorest of the poor—except for Joseph. If there were better options, they wouldn't be sitting here now. Veterans were flooding back to town, and even jobs at the local bakery were getting snapped up.
Everyone turned to look at Fox. They were young, but not stupid—hardened by war, they could hear the manipulation in his words.
Leo's mention of Joseph was the breaking point. Fox could sense their trust unraveling—especially Charlie's. Not only had he failed to poach anyone, but he might not even be able to hold onto his original target.
And worse, Leo's vision for a real estate company was identical to Fox's own blueprint.
Start local. Get in early. Fast turnover. Low overhead. Build the team and the brand. Exactly the strategy Fox's mysterious backer had personally taught him.
He still remembered what the man had said as they parted ways:
"You try to do real estate in New York, you might end up in a river."
And now this punk from Lynchburg had the same vision. A dangerous enemy indeed.
Worse, in just a few words, Leo had answered everyone's concerns and pushed Fox to the other side of the table.
Fox stared at Leo, knowing this was his best—and perhaps only—chance to destabilize the team. If he couldn't win them over, at least he could weaken their unity.
The smile disappeared from his face.
"You make a good point, Leo. But real estate isn't like running a bakery—it's not that simple. First, you need state approval to be a licensed contractor. Then, you need a registered architect certified by the state."
He paused, sweeping his gaze across the room, his expression filled with smug superiority—as if daring them to admit they didn't even know what that meant.
"Legally, you need $10,000 to start. But do you really think that's enough to launch a construction company? With bonding and insurance, you're looking at at least $100,000. And with no company history, no architect, and no credit rating, even the most lenient bank won't touch you.
You've got nothing—no firm, no license, no rep. You won't break into real estate. You'll end up a glorified renovation crew. A laughingstock.
You know what would be smarter? Join my company. I can start paying you as early as tomorrow."
With that, Fox slapped a business card on the table. It read: O'Connor Real Estate.
"You're here to stir up trouble," Daniel growled, standing up abruptly.
Fox flinched ever so slightly but quickly put on a calm face. "I'm not Aiken, alright? Touch me and you'll be hearing from my lawyer."
"Daniel." Leo's voice cut in sharply.
"Fox, if you're not here to be part of this, then I'd like you to leave."
Ignoring Leo, Fox turned to address the others.
"Gentlemen, the war is over. Civilization has rules. If one day you get tired of playing house with Lynchburg's king of the playground, come find me."
He turned and walked out of the Noodles restaurant.
"Charlie, what kind of people are you bringing in here?" Joseph snapped.
Charlie, clearly embarrassed, lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Joseph. I'm sorry, Leo."
Leo clapped a hand on Charlie's shoulder and refilled his beer.
"Charlie, the fact that you're still sitting here means you do respect me and want to be part of this. But, since you did bring Aiken and Fox and ruined the mood, you'll have to treat everyone to dinner as punishment."
Charlie laughed, stood up, and headed to the counter to place the order.
As Leo watched Charlie at the bar, his face turned stern again. He looked at Joseph, his warm expression gone, eyes now sharp and full of pressure.
"You made a mistake, Joseph," Leo said in a cold, low voice. "You vouched for two people who ended up sabotaging us. Aiken is one thing. But Fox..."
Leo didn't wait for a reply. He picked up the business card from the table.
"Because of you, we've got our first competitor before our company even exists. What should've been a quiet infiltration has become an all-out assault."
Joseph couldn't even look Leo in the eyes. He didn't have the courage to speak.
To him, Leo was near-invincible—the man who trained them, led them through life-and-death missions, and survived against all odds. Leo's coldness in war and mercilessness toward enemies still haunted him.
He cursed his own careless personality. He'd gotten too relaxed since returning to "civilized life."
"I'm sorry, Leo. I shouldn't have butted in earlier," Desmond finally said, breaking the silence. Sitting beside Leo, he'd noticed Leo's hand resting toward him on the table—a silent signal of displeasure.
As Leo's second-in-command, Desmond knew Leo was sparing his dignity by not calling him out directly.
The moment Desmond spoke, Leo's coldness thawed. He lifted that same hand, picked up his beer, and took a slow sip.
That was the signal—the storm had passed.
This wasn't about power-tripping or ego.
As Leo's mentor had once told him:
"Starting a business is like steering a ship. The helmsman must lead alone."