Leo woke up from his sleep, kissed his two children, and quietly left the nursery.
Leaving the main house, he returned to the meeting villa. Striding to the sofa, he sat down, his eyes bright as he looked at Frederick, who was pulling an investment plan from his leather bag.
Just moments ago, Leo had a sudden thought—or more precisely, a goal.
After the simultaneous IPOs of five companies, he had fallen into a state of confusion. He wasn't sure how to further push his wealth into hyper-growth.
His fortune was already so immense that even if he did nothing, it would still expand year by year, and his influence would only continue to grow. But that wasn't what Leo wanted.
Leo thrived on rapid wealth accumulation and, even more so, on the feeling of leading people. Most importantly, he had always carried a goal deep in his heart: to build a super family.
He was confident that, at his current pace, the Valentino family would eventually become such a dynasty by the time he grew old. But Leo was not satisfied.
What meaning would there be if his family only achieved that status after he was gone?
Today, both Frederick's words and his own lucid dreams were telling him: it was time to start laying out the future.
In America, food, mining, and other key sectors were already controlled by super families. But Leo could see further ahead. He could plan for the future—and thereby control it.
In time, when others tried to claim a share of the cake, they would find that the entire cake was held by one towering giant: Leo Valentino.
Today's meeting with Frederick marked the beginning of that grand endeavor.
"Mr. Valentino, the school board funds I'm applying for today are mainly divided into two parts. One is for building a more specialized electrification laboratory. The other concerns a vision I have for Stanford University.
Regarding the first, after our morning conversation, I must say you truly opened my eyes. You're absolutely the most visionary genius I've ever met, and we share the same outlook on many aspects of the future—especially semiconductors.
When I say 'electrification lab,' that's just a cover to fool the trustees who only know electrification is a hot topic. In truth, what I want to build is a semiconductor laboratory.
As far as I know, top universities like Yale and Harvard have already begun similar efforts."
Frederick spoke earnestly.
Leo nodded. No wonder this man was hailed as the Father of Silicon Valley—his vision was indeed sharp. As for this project, Leo had no doubt he would invest. After all, nobody knew better than him how semiconductors would transform the future.
"How much will it cost to build a semiconductor lab?" Leo asked.
"By my estimate, following Yale's model, it should require about $3 million."
"And if you were to build it to the highest standards, the perfect plan—how much then?" Leo asked, lavish as ever.
Frederick shook his head. "No, Mr. Valentino. Thank you for your generosity, but cutting-edge scientific research evolves rapidly. Three million is already sufficient for this phase. Even with the best tools available, the difference would not be significant.
More importantly, if I spent too much and achieved only average results, when the equipment became outdated next year, I'd be embarrassed to ask you for more."
Leo appreciated Frederick's rigorous attitude. On the spot, he signed a $3 million check and handed it over.
"Now, tell me about your plan for Stanford."
Frederick's eyes lit up as he pocketed the check. He put aside the semiconductor lab proposal and pulled out a map and a document.
"Mr. Valentino, this is Stanford's land. I propose allocating 579 acres of campus to establish a Stanford Industrial Park.
I've always believed that research results must ultimately be reflected in people's lives, or else they're meaningless.
The industrial park would allow my students and innovative faculty to transform research into real products, converting discoveries into wealth.
This would encourage more people to pursue research, since research would then be the gateway to fortune."
He spoke with excitement—it was clear this was an idea long brewing in his mind.
Leo couldn't help but admire him. No wonder Frederick would be remembered as the Father of Silicon Valley. His idea created a path for grassroots researchers to climb the social ladder.
History had proven that whenever people bypassed entrenched powers to achieve upward mobility, the model always succeeded—and the one who pioneered it would be immortalized.
The "industry-university-research" model that Leo had heard endlessly in his past life—it turned out this man was its champion.
But Leo saw a loophole.
"Frederick, your plan is excellent. But surely the trustees won't willingly give up this land. Why are you telling me, an outsider?"
"Because he wants more than just land," Earl interjected.
"Indeed," Frederick said. "Besides the land, I also want $2 million to support the commercialization of research from faculty and students.
Of course, Mr. Valentino, in return, Stanford and the investing trustees will hold equity in the companies created.
This idea came to me three years ago during an exchange at Harvard. I attended a lecture by Professor Georges Doriot, who argued that capital should be invested in research with future potential.
Yes, it carries high risk, but when successful, the returns are massive. He even showed us a brilliant mathematical model."
He pushed the model toward Leo, who promptly waved it away.
Please. Leo's memory and comprehension had improved, but that didn't mean he could master advanced mathematics or physics.
Besides, as a man who'd attended several business schools in his past life, Leo knew all too well the fame of Georges Doriot, the "Father of Venture Capital."
That Frenchman had studied in America, served as a brigadier general in the U.S. Army during WWII, and later returned to teach at Harvard. He was both a war veteran and an innovator.
"Venture capital," "angel rounds," "Series A, B, C"—these terms hadn't yet appeared. Just recently, Leo had read in the Wall Street Journal scathing critiques of Doriot's ARD, calling it a scam.
But Leo knew the truth: ARD's model would shape the future, empowering researchers, creating fortunes, and driving America's technological rise.
Now Leo finally understood why Frederick was called the Father of Silicon Valley: he wasn't just providing land, but also funds, and even founding a venture capital company with Stanford as its body.
Truly remarkable. Heroes of the world could never be underestimated.
As Leo pondered in silence, Frederick worried the sum was too high.
"Actually, $1 million would do. Even $500,000 could work. Many breakthroughs cost only a few hundred dollars."
That touched Leo again—Frederick was a true teacher, always thinking of his students' future.
But $2 million was steep—equivalent to $40 million in Leo's era, enough for hundreds of angel investments. It didn't align with his freshly born long-term plan.
"Frederick, $2 million is too much. I can give you $1 million. But for the Stanford Industrial Park, I can provide powerful publicity.
Have you heard of WLI Computer Research Company?"
"Of course. Their commercial computer is the perfect example of research commercialization I cite to my students. I heard their valuation surpassed $100 million."
"Not anymore. That's outdated. They're now nearing $400 million."
Frederick's eyes widened in astonishment. "Incredible! I must tell my students—let them know science and wealth are two sides of the same coin.
But Mr. Valentino, you're in real estate. How do you know so much about tech companies?"
To him, WLI represented the dawn of a new era: science breaking free from governments, magnates, and generals, standing as an independent force on America's stage.
"The reason is simple: I own WLI. The 'W' stands for Valentino. Even my Valentino Retail Company runs on WLI's Type-II computers."
"What? No wonder you've supported us so strongly! You're the earliest pioneer combining science and business. When you say 'support,' do you mean WLI will move into the Stanford Industrial Park?"
"Of course. Why not?"
Frederick nearly leapt with joy. Having WLI in the park would make it famous overnight—and even more importantly, serve as a shining example for timid researchers to take that first bold step toward commercialization.
"Of course, I'll also support Stanford in building labs. In fact, if Stanford ever wants to establish new ones, come to me. On one condition: it has to be you in charge. I trust only you."
Leo's words deeply moved Frederick. And though he wasn't low in emotional intelligence, his blunt, earnest nature made him seize the chance:
"Mr. Valentino, I am the vice president and dean of engineering. Our engineering school has many outdated facilities, and several cutting-edge labs can no longer meet demands. Would you be willing to fund them?"
"Of course. On one condition—the first right to purchase any commercialized patents must go to my company."
"Agreed."
In Earl's stunned gaze, Leo proceeded to donate a staggering $15 million for labs in microwave electronics, electronic engineering, military research (especially naval), telecommunications, and computer science.
In one day, Frederick had secured $19 million in charitable funding—shocking not only Stanford's president and trustees but also the entire American West.
People said: Mr. Valentino has truly become one of us. Look at his sense of responsibility! He's helping Stanford rise into a top institution. He's no longer an East Coast man—he's one of ours.
Leo hadn't expected this to transform his reputation in the West.
The most devastated, of course, was his alma mater, the University of Virginia. The moment the news reached the East Coast, the president and the Masons personally called Leo, inviting him back to lecture.
They were blunt: if Stanford could have Valentino Electrical Lab, Valentino Communications Lab, and Valentino Radar & Microwave Lab, then Virginia could too!
And it wasn't just Virginia. Yale sent word offering him a trustee position, while the American Association for the Advancement of Science invited him to its annual meeting in Michigan.
To make sure Leo would attend, they even had Philadelphia's mayor personally call him:
"Leo, you once said you wanted to join the AAAS. Do you still?"
"Of course, Arson. I know why you're calling. Don't worry—I'll be there."
Leo hung up and gazed out at the blazing sun.
Of course he would go—because the "future" he wanted to control was waiting at that very conference.
Leo would become the world's foremost tech investor.
The sole man holding the cake of the future.
It was time to leave his family and return to the East.