The new broadcast was a series of experimental results and data. Based on the construction materials and methods Eddie himself had announced, the video producers had commissioned multiple certification agencies and universities for professional assessments.
They even built three Bubble Houses in different climates and environments.
All of them collapsed within ten days.
Several authoritative experts declared the Bubble House to be structurally unsafe.
One pharmaceutical lab even issued a health warning:
the synthetic materials used in Bubble Houses might pose risks to human health.
Prospective buyers and the visiting observation groups watched the video and began leaving even faster.
Soon even Londo Company's staff, seeing Eddie bound up and everything going south, started to slip away.
The unveiling site, so bustling in the morning, was now empty except for Herbert and a few others.
"Sir… should we…?"
One of his men asked hesitantly.
Herbert ground his teeth.
"Back to the family. We can't worry about Clint now.
Damn it! We might have to leave America altogether."
At Leo's unveiling event, the atmosphere was completely different.
The developers and businessmen watching the broadcast were cheering wildly.
Toussaint turned to Leo, face full of disbelief.
"How is this possible? How did you do it?!
The first video I could believe—but those official agencies? How could they listen to you?
Even Senator Thomas doesn't have that much influence!"
Leo remained calm.
"Nothing's impossible, Toussaint.
Harry and Thomas really don't have that kind of power.
But the Bubble House project itself does.
Think about it: all the people cut out of the deal, who were about to lose their livelihoods…
They were already furious.
All they needed was an excuse. A coordinator."
Toussaint went quiet.
"But… you've been here this whole time…"
He started, then trailed off.
Suddenly he realized he hadn't seen Sean and Edward for quite some time.
"They've grown fast," he muttered, a little wistfully.
Half a year ago, he had been the only one on Leo's team capable of this sort of operation.
Now those boys were running entire plays on their own.
"Hey, Toussaint, stop daydreaming. Get ready for our golden moment,"
Leo's voice interrupted him.
Toussaint looked up and saw, just a few blocks away, a flood of cars and people surging toward them.
"Mr. Valentino, now's our chance to raise prices!
There's no other housing available in all of Richmond except through our association,"
one excited developer shouted.
Leo shook his head firmly.
"No, my friend.
We're in this for the long run.
Reputation is worth more than short-term profit."
Inside an office at the state capitol, Thomas and Harry had just watched the entire turn of events on TV.
Vice President Henry's face had gone from pale to black with rage—and finally back to carefully neutral.
He personally turned off the set and said:
"Given these new developments… perhaps we should wait—"
"Wait for what?" Thomas cut in sharply.
As one of the party's most senior old hands, he wasn't about to let this slide.
"Henry, it's obvious now Harry and I were being framed.
We were trying to stop this whole Bubble House scam.
Can you even imagine, if we hadn't reached across the aisle to work with the Republicans?
There would be Bubble House ceremonies in every corner of Virginia.
How much money would have been wasted?
How many party resources burned?
After that, it wouldn't just be about Democrats fighting Democrats.
We'd hand Virginia—our solid stronghold since the founding—right into someone else's hands!"
Each sentence slapped Henry in the face like a physical blow.
Harry added coldly:
"Exactly. Vice President, this isn't us on trial anymore.
It's Clint.
He wasted party resources, used unfair tactics, and deliberately crushed market competition.
He did massive harm to our cause.
We demand he be expelled from the Democratic Party."
He waved, and a secretary dropped a thick stack of prepared documents onto Henry's desk.
Henry's face darkened like a thundercloud.
He was one of the last Roosevelt-era veterans in Truman's administration, and he still dreamed of being president himself one day.
He had worked hard to get Clint elected governor—specifically to secure Virginia's votes for his own campaign in two years.
Now all that investment was going up in smoke.
"Harry, Thomas—you did work with Republicans. That's proven.
Sure, now it turns out it was the right thing. So the impeachment is off.
But your claim that Clint wasted resources? Every official deals with cost overruns.
Thomas—don't tell me you never did?
Just using that to expel a governor is going too far.
Kicking him out of the party is the same as unseating him.
Do you want to hand Republicans a knife to stab us with?
The priority now should be containing the damage from this Bubble House mess.
We can't give the Republicans any ammo.
I know you two are angry—but think of the bigger picture."
Harry scowled.
"So you're saying not only should we not punish Clint, but you want Thomas and me to clean up his mess for him?"
Henry turned to rebuke him, but Thomas held up a calming hand and spoke instead.
"Henry, you're right. But he wasted resources that belong to all of us.
If you screw up, you pay the price.
And as for your idea of mitigating the Bubble House fallout?
I already have a plan.
Look at this."
He tossed a stack of photos onto Henry's desk.
Henry picked them up—and his eyes widened in shock.
They were explicit photos of Clint and a woman in bed.
Very explicit.
The kind of thing you couldn't unsee.
Even as a lifelong Puritan, Henry had to admit he was impressed—and thoroughly disgusted.
"This… doesn't prove anything.
I mean, let's be honest, Harry's private life isn't exactly saintly either.
This wouldn't grab much public attention."
Harry bristled, but then remembered his own exploits and just snorted twice, falling silent.
Thomas smiled thinly.
"Sure. But what if that woman is his own son's wife?
What if the plaintiff is his son?"
"WHAT?!"
Henry went pale and slumped back in his chair.
"If you're this ready," he muttered, "then just do it."
He knew his objections were pointless now.
Even if he refused, they'd just find someone else to back them.
He'd done all he could for Clint.
A day later, under Harry's escort, Clint's eldest son Phil walked into the Richmond courthouse.
Back at the Lynchburg Hotel suite, Leo—whose recent run of good fortune had finally given him a chance to rest—fell into a deep sleep.
"Leo, with this down payment, we've spent every last cent we saved up.
From now on, you're on your own."
He heard his parents' weary voices in the back seat of a cheap taxi.
Their faces were lined and tired, their words heavy with resignation.
Leo realized with a pang that he was back in one of his lucid dreams.