In the town of Menlo Park, at the Valentino estate.
Mike arrived with his wife Kay, and the troublesome Johnny, to pay a visit to Leo.
Kay had been reluctant to come. She had long disapproved of Leo's philandering, especially after he married Evelyn—since then, the newspapers had gone silent about Emily. As Emily's best friend, Kay harbored a deep resentment toward Leo.
Yet when she saw Emily and Evelyn walking arm in arm, each holding a child, smiling and chatting alongside Leo, the entire scene radiated harmony.
In that instant, the worldview Kay had built over the years—of freedom and independence—collapsed completely.
Coming from a comfortable upper–middle-class family, Kay had always prided herself on the American spirit of liberty, especially the rising tide of women's rights in recent years.
She was left somewhat dumbfounded, but Emily, thrilled to see her, quickly handed Luna to a servant and ran joyfully to embrace Kay.
Then she introduced her, still dazed, to Evelyn.
"Evelyn, let's show Kay around the estate together," Emily said.
Lately, Emily had taken a liking to horseback riding and had already asked the servants to prepare several fine horses.
Evelyn smiled and looked at Emily indulgently.
"Not yet—we have another guest."
Following Evelyn's gaze, Emily noticed Marilyn Monroe, half–hidden behind Johnny, trying to avoid attention.
Marilyn had never in her life seen such a grand house. To hear that this was only the reception villa, and that the main residence lay further back, stirred waves inside her. She knew Leo was rich—that was hardly news in America—but the numbers printed in newspapers, though shocking, could not conjure the true scale of such wealth.
A voice inside her whispered: When will I live a life like this?
Leo, too, noticed Marilyn. Her presence surprised him, though glancing at Johnny gave him a hint. Mike's unusually grand visit today must surely have something to do with Johnny and Marilyn Monroe.
"Let's head inside together," Leo said.
"No," Evelyn replied with a playful wink, slipping her arm through Marilyn's. "We ladies have our own secrets to share. Come on—let's go riding. There's plenty of fun on the estate."
The women soon changed into riding clothes. Evelyn and Emily mounted their prized young Friesian horses—beautiful, spirited yet gentle, perfect for women riders.
The other two horses, though less prestigious, were calm and suitable for beginners. Clearly, Evelyn had made careful arrangements.
For Marilyn, it was her very first time riding. Every shift of the horse's body filled her with fear. She began to suspect Evelyn had deliberately set her up, offering a subtle warning as the mistress of the house.
But reality proved different. Both Evelyn and Emily quickly saw her inexperience. They flanked her on either side, guiding her patiently, with Evelyn offering careful instruction.
The sight unsettled Kay even more. Years of ingrained convictions crumbled before her eyes.
Under their attentive guidance, Marilyn gradually overcame her fear, the rhythm of the hooves soothing her until she began to enjoy the ride.
Once Marilyn had gained some control of her horse, Evelyn asked abruptly:
"Have you borne Leo a child?"
The blunt question stunned both Marilyn and Kay. Kay, with her riding skills, recovered her balance quickly. But here, far from the house, surrounded by open fields and endless sky, she felt transported back in time—as if a queen without an heir was demanding to know whether the king's mistress had given him children.
Marilyn nearly fell off her horse. Only Emily's quick dancer's reflexes saved her, shoving her back upright in time.
"What did you say, Mrs. Valentino?" Marilyn stammered.
Evelyn only smiled.
"Nothing, just a joke."
But her question had already revealed what she wished to know. Evelyn felt a flicker of disappointment.
In her mind, Leo had too few heirs. With such a vast empire, the family could not afford to be thin in blood. From Marilyn's figure, Evelyn judged her to be an excellent candidate for bearing healthy children.
Though Leo seemed indifferent to this woman, Evelyn's fierce territorial instinct compelled her to guard the "lion king's" interests, ensuring no other man could touch what Leo had once claimed.
Back at the villa, Mike noticed the women ride off. He asked nervously, "Everything okay?"
"It's fine. Evelyn will handle it. Let's go inside," Leo said, stepping ahead without noticing the envious glances cast his way.
Inside, Johnny quickly offered an apology. But Leo felt no ripple in his heart. To him, the matter only escalated because Evelyn raised it to a higher plane. Still, since it now touched his honor, he could not let it slide.
"Johnny, what can you do for me?" Leo asked coolly.
On the way over, Johnny had rehearsed his answer, guided by Mike's advice.
"Mr. Valentino, Chris may be unreliable, but he has a sharp eye for films and casting. He once said Miss Marilyn Monroe would be perfect for the gold-digger role in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. I could persuade Chris to let her star. I'm sure she'll become a sensation."
Mike groaned inwardly, covering his forehead. He had warned Johnny—the issue wasn't about women but about face. Johnny, thinking Leo was like himself, driven by desire and impulse, had entirely missed the point.
Mike stole a glance at Leo, whose expression darkened instantly before he turned and walked away.
"Johnny, you wear the face of a clever man but a head full of shit. If you weren't my father's godson, you'd already be lying at the bottom of Lake Tahoe, like Francisco. I'll plead for you one last time, but this is truly your final chance."
Mike knew his influence still carried weight, largely through the godfather's legacy. He found Leo waiting in the next room.
"He is, after all, father's favorite godson," Mike said carefully.
Leo acknowledged Mike's tact and maturity. "Let him go. I don't want to see him again. Send him to RKO Pictures, sign him up for twenty films. As for Chris—he'd better not invoke my name. If he fails to persuade, then you persuade him. And once Monroe's film is finished, I don't ever want to see Chris again in this world."
"Understood. I'll arrange Johnny's departure."
Johnny left, crestfallen, realizing too late he had squandered the greatest chance of his life.
But Mike had come with a larger purpose. Sitting across from Leo again, he began, "Boss, with Hollywood under your control, we can use stars to draw crowds to our Las Vegas casinos. That would greatly accelerate the city's growth. A thriving Las Vegas would also wash the mob's dirty money across America. Control their money, and you control them."
Leo, pleased, did not correct Mike's use of "boss." Among his team, Mike was clearly the most mature, the sharpest. Even without the lens of The Godfather, Leo considered his ability flawless.
Leo knew Mike's idea—entertainment as the key to Las Vegas—was indeed the city's turning point. And the money-laundering angle impressed him even more. He no longer cared about the slim profits of cleaning dirty money—his true aim was power over the American Mafia.
"I'll back you, Mike. I doubt anyone in Hollywood today would dare refuse my invitation," Leo said.
"Of course, boss. But Las Vegas is reaching its limit on laundering capacity. I heard you have… other channels," Mike hinted.
Leo immediately understood. Mike had his eye on the offshore tax haven networks. From his memories of a past life, Leo knew such networks were designed precisely for laundering the vast black-market fortune.
He had built them for this purpose. And now his sights were global. His success in Italian real estate had owed much to Don Tommasino of the Sicilian Mafia—whom he had backed decisively whenever rivals challenged his authority.
Leo's ultimate goal was nothing less than control of every Mafia family in the world.
With Leo's approval, Mike's spirits soared—his main objective achieved. Yet he had another request, one close to his heart.
"Boss, I'm not young anymore. I once promised Kay I would someday cleanse the Corleone family. Please, give me one chance to do something for my family."
"You want to go clean?" Leo asked bluntly.
Mike sighed deeply. "Boss, we've known each other a long time. Back in that field hospital, you knew my hopes for the future. But fate had other plans. My father was assassinated. My elder brother killed because of his brother-in-law. My sister—lost forever when we purged traitors. Now, only my mother and wife remain. I owe them everything."
Leo studied him. Though maximizing profit would mean keeping Mike in the underworld, seeing his brother-in-arms plead so earnestly, Leo found it hard to refuse.
"So what do you want, Mike? Whatever role you choose, I'll support you."
"I want to be Senator of Nevada."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "A Senator of Nevada?"
"I know it's unlikely. My past excludes me from mainstream politics. But I want to try. I want to go clean."
"Go clean? Mike, stop being childish. The only way you'll ever be Senator is with the very Mafia power you reject. Do you know what 'going clean' really means?"
Mike looked puzzled.
"Going clean doesn't mean quitting the business. That's suicide. It means wearing a legal mask."
Leo doubted his words would sway him. Mike would need to learn the hard way.
"I'll give you a chance. Clemenza has done well in New York. He can take your place for now. Think of it as a vacation. Try your path—maybe then you'll understand my warning."
Mike left, still defiant, his stride firm. Leo shook his head, seeing in him a man seduced by the illusion of the American Dream painted by the ultra-rich.
When all the visitors were gone, only Marilyn remained.
She was taken to a Mediterranean-style villa nestled by mountain and water, with a natural sulfur hot spring.
That night, soaking in the misty warmth, she replayed the day's events—Evelyn's question still echoing: Have you borne Leo a child?
As drowsiness overtook her, footsteps echoed at the entrance. Shapes loomed in the steam.
Marilyn sank deeper into the water. But soon the silhouettes came clear.
A naked Leo, leading the equally naked Evelyn and Emily, stepped slowly into the spring.
That night, the spring brimmed with protein-rich nourishment.