"Boss, I found it."
Joseph's footsteps were light—after all, the traitor wasn't one of the brothers who had once fought through life and death with him.
Leo didn't look up, still focused on the newspaper in his hand. He simply raised his hand and took the slip of paper Joseph handed him.
When he saw the name written on it—Hubert—Leo froze for a moment, then asked with a touch of regret:
"Why would he turn traitor? Didn't Hubert's family also settle in the West?"
"Not entirely," Joseph explained. "Back when Hubert was in New York, he had a marriage. There's also a son. But when we investigated him, he never mentioned it.
Now, both the boy and his mother have disappeared. We searched everywhere but couldn't find them. It's possible they've already left the United States."
Joseph's implication was clear: Hubert might have been coerced.
Leo shook his head.
"Not entirely. After all, when we moved west, why did he hide this from us? Only he knows his true intentions. I never thought I'd fail to see through that expressionless man.
This is a lesson, Joseph. Our brothers have grown wealthy, and many of them have more than one woman outside. Protecting those extra children of theirs means that one day, they won't have to face a moral trial."
"Understood, boss," Joseph nodded.
"So, which enemy lured Hubert?" Leo asked.
"The other side is very cautious and cunning—we're still investigating. I came to ask if you want me to get rid of Hubert."
Joseph's tone was flat, but the meaning was sharp.
Leo narrowed his eyes.
"And how do you plan to investigate without keeping him? Haven't you already activated your pawn? Watch him closely. If it's not about major business, let Hubert leak it.
But the moment it involves core secrets, you must stop him immediately.
My enemies chose well this time. Hubert is with the James River Foundation—he knows plenty of secrets. But as long as he's not a fool, he'll sell the important ones at a high price.
Keep him under surveillance. I want the man behind him."
"Yes, boss. Give me a little more time, and I'll drag that rat out," Joseph promised solemnly.
After Joseph left, Leo dialed Walker Walton, Sam Walton, and Harley—the top management team of the American Retail Group.
"Release the news. The fishing operation is over. I'm 'out of ammo' on my side," Leo said in the conference call.
The sound of three men breathing a long sigh of relief came through the line. After all, Leo had used the project that the three of them regarded as their life's work as bait, which pained them deeply.
Especially during this period—the swirling rumors about the American Retail Group had hit sales hard, doubling their distress.
Now Leo was saying it was no longer necessary. They could finally fire off the "gunpowder" they had stockpiled. Their joy was indescribable.
Soon, under Leo's direction, the three of them gave exclusive interviews to mainstream media outlets such as NBC Radio and Le Monde.
For the first time, they revealed the American Retail Group's secret to precise demand forecasting and maximized inventory efficiency—WLI Research Company's computers, built specifically for the retail industry.
At the same time, theaters and television networks began airing a documentary produced by Thunderbolt Pictures: The American Retail Group—The Power of Innovation.
Audiences witnessed, in vivid detail, how technology was transforming enterprise operations and bringing real benefits to ordinary people.
Leo also stepped forward at the right moment, declaring:
"Technology is the only way we can all share in mutual prosperity."
Instantly, a nationwide frenzy over technology swept across America. From the White House to street corners, everyone was discussing how technology would soon change everyday life.
The wave even fueled a boom in science fiction novels, drawing public fascination toward the future of science.
Newspapers across the country were filled with articles about technology transforming life—some true, others fabricated. Ordinary people enjoyed the spectacle, while business elites repeatedly studied Leo's documentary, desperate to find flaws in the machine.
They did discover weaknesses—many of them—but none sufficient to attack Leo with. The advantages far outweighed the shortcomings. Countless business owners still yearned to own one.
Wall Street, being closest to money, reacted first. They immediately placed orders with WLI, demanding software tailored for the financial system.
Wall Street was a weather vane. It signaled to everyone that computers were no longer confined to university research or government census work—they were a tool that could transform company operations and profits.
Orders poured in like snowflakes.
Yet WLI's production capacity was limited—leaving room for competitors.
In the Valley around Menlo Park and Stanford University alone, five new computer factories sprang up almost overnight.
IBM, long eager to surpass WLI, quickly reactivated its computer research division, pouring in huge sums. With its strong foundation, IBM unveiled its first prototype just two weeks later.
Of course, anyone could see that, aside from minor design differences, it was nearly identical to WLI's very first prototype.
Still, WLI could not expand production quickly enough. Impatient customers didn't care about potential infringement—they rushed to place orders with IBM.
IBM's computer division, riding this wave, quickly secured a flood of contracts. Crucially, the turnaround wasn't led by old Thomas Watson's faction, but by IBM's shareholder bloc—the very same group that had once demanded the computer division's shutdown.
As competitors rose on opportunities he himself had created, Thomas Watson Jr. remained calm.
Reporters swarmed him, eager for an interview. After all, father and son worked for rival companies, with the son openly declaring his mission to defeat his father's firm. Now the father's company was transforming itself using the son's company's innovation—how could journalists resist such a story?
Thomas Jr. announced he would hold a press conference.
New York, Waldorf Astoria Hotel
Dressed in a tailored suit, Thomas Watson Jr. stepped onto the podium. On stage stood a cloth-covered object, the size of a grand piano.
Scanning the audience, he saw not only reporters but also many industry peers. His father was present as well, seated beside Aiken Flint—the head of IBM's computer division and grandson of Charles Ranlett Flint, founder of IBM's predecessor, the Computing-Tabulating-Recording Company.
Aiken lounged smugly, legs crossed, looking at him with contempt.
Thomas Jr. frowned. Dark childhood memories resurfaced. Back then, Aiken had always treated him like a servant, humiliating him while playing the master.
Thomas Jr.'s desire to destroy IBM—Aiken had played no small part in that.
Now, seeing Aiken in the audience, Thomas Jr. quietly relished the thought of wiping that smug look off his face.
"Some say WLI only grew so large because we were the first to eat the crab," Thomas Jr. began. "I won't deny we were the first to make money in this field. But the real reason we dared launch the first commercial computer was our confidence in the future of this industry.
And that confidence wasn't luck—it was strength."
He swept his gaze across the reporters and continued:
"At first, I thought of calling some of our peers here 'shameful thieves' or 'competitors.' But yesterday, while reporting to my boss, Mr. Valentino, he told me to take a broader view.
He said they are not our competitors, nor thieves, but friends who push us forward. He asked me to call them partners-in-competition.
I like this phrase. It tells me my boss's success is no accident."
In the audience, Aiken scowled. Watching this once-"servant" radiate confidence was unbearable. He leaned toward old Thomas Watson and sneered:
"Your son is far more loyal than you. Every word from his mouth sings his new master's praises."
Old Thomas shot him a cold glare.
"Perhaps I should have a word with Charles—about how a father ought to teach his son to speak properly."
The mention of his own father made Aiken flinch involuntarily. He dared not speak again, though his mind burned with ambition. His father had promised that if the computer division surpassed the mechanical division, he would rally the founding families to drive the Watsons out of IBM entirely.
Aiken's confidence rested on the division's flood of new orders. Riding the computer boom and IBM's reputation for quality, contracts were pouring in.
He glanced from Thomas Sr. to Thomas Jr. and sneered inwardly:
Enjoy your moment, you two ingrates. Once my division eclipses the mechanicals, the old man will be out. And when IBM upgrades again, the boy's little company will be crushed as well. Then we'll see who laughs last.
At that thought, Aiken's lips curled into a smile.
Onstage, Thomas Jr. raised his voice:
"Some believe the surge of orders for our peers means WLI is faltering. But today, I say this—WLI will not only endure, it will lead this era for many years to come."
With that, he strode to the cloth-covered object, gripped the corner of the fabric, and yanked it away.
A gleaming, silver square machine stood revealed.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is WLI Research's newest product—the WLI-S1. The world's first miniaturized computer. Compared with those room-sized machines, it is no larger than a piano."
The audience erupted. Cameras flashed furiously.
Everyone knew what this meant.
Especially the so-called "partners"—their technology could only produce bulky machines, built on WLI's original architecture. They were still crawling, while WLI was sprinting ahead. Panic spread among them.
No one felt it more keenly than Aiken. Of all people, he was the one who least wanted to see Thomas Jr. rise. He shot to his feet and demanded:
"With miniaturization, the functions must be reduced, right?"
It was exactly what he hoped: smaller meant weaker.
Thomas smiled.
"Excellent question. On the contrary, the WLI-S1 hasn't lost functions—it has gained many new ones."
He flipped open a panel on the machine's front, revealing a display screen. Beneath it was not a forest of levers and red buttons, but rows of sleek raised keys.
"Here," Thomas explained, pointing. "We've improved the operation system. Instead of complicated lever controls, we now use a collection of pressable keys. We call it a keyboard.
From now on, no one needs to memorize complex lever combinations. A simple sequence of key presses will command the computer.
And WLI guarantees this: the S1 retains all the functions of our previous computers, but with storage for up to ten software programs—more than triple before.
In short, this is a leap into a new era."
Thunderous applause shook the hall. Americans, swept up in the tech craze, knew progress meant benefits for all.
Most were exhilarated—though not WLI's "partners."
Least of all IBM. Aiken's eyes bulged. He could already see the wave of canceled orders looming over him.
His fledgling empire was in peril before it began. He tried one last desperate question:
"Such a machine must be terribly expensive, right?"
Thomas shook his head.
"No, my friend. Quite the opposite. The WLI-S1 costs only 80% of the previous model. For just $200,000, a business can soar."
"That's impossible! That cheap?" Aiken blurted.
"Because it uses less material," Thomas replied calmly. "And most importantly, as Mr. Valentino has said—technology must benefit as many people as possible.
The ultimate mission of WLI Research is to put a powerful, compact computer into the hands of every American."