The title "Leave Her to Heaven" sounded like a sleazy Hong Kong film from Leo's past life, but in reality, it was a touching story—a mother willingly taking the blame for a murder committed by her daughter in a desperate attempt to win back her love.
"That was a truly moving film," Leo commented as they exited the theater.
"Mhm," Emily replied in a voice as soft as a whisper.
Her cheeks were crimson from Leo's restless hands during the movie. As for the plot? She honestly couldn't recall.
The two walked out into a gentle drizzle.
"Daddy, look! It's raining!" cried Dolores, the little girl dashing past Leo and into the rain with a cheer.
"Dolores! Be careful—you'll catch a cold," Dot called out, walking with his signature awkward gait. As he moved, he removed his coat and raised it above his daughter to shield her.
The crowd, fresh from watching such a heartwarming movie, couldn't help but smile at the genuine bond between the quirky father and his bright daughter.
"They're so sweet together," Emily said. "Leo, let's have a little angel like Dolores someday."
Leo gazed into Emily's amber eyes and gave a small nod. But before he could speak, his peripheral vision caught something—a flash of four dark silhouettes rushing toward Dot and Dolores from across the street.
Their right hands were tucked inside their jackets.
Leo's instincts screamed: weapons. Danger!
He leapt from the steps, charging forward. Carlo and Johnny also moved, though noticeably slower.
Leo was fast—very fast—but not fast enough. Dot and Dolores were closer to the street.
When the first attacker drew his knife, Leo was still a full meter away.
Too late.
Faced with the sudden ambush, Dot, whose mental faculties were akin to a nine-year-old's, didn't run. Instead, he shielded his terrified daughter beneath him.
Thwack.Thwack.Thwack.
Four blades plunged into Dot's back. The pain made him scream, but he didn't move—still shielding Dolores like a human shield.
The first assailant, seeing Leo rushing closer, remembered the boss's order: kill both. He yanked his knife free and tried to get around Dot to stab the child.
Dot, sensing the danger, let out a bellow. Despite the two blades already in his back and blood pouring from his wounds, he twisted around and threw himself into the path of the knife once again.
This time, it pierced his right side—straight into his kidney.
Seeing that their comrade still hadn't succeeded, the other three attackers tried to pull knives from Dot's back to finish the job—but they were out of time.
Leo had arrived.
A foolish, kind-hearted father and his sweet, innocent daughter—symbols of goodness in the hearts of every Lynchburg citizen—had been attacked.
And Leo saw the blade in Dot's side.
Dot was done for.
Fueled by rage, Leo delivered a vicious punch to the first attacker's face, breaking his nose. Blood sprayed everywhere. The man let out a shriek and collapsed.
The other three lunged at Leo.
He dodged the first strike with ease, then drove a foot into the second man's gut, dropping him to the ground.
Spinning, Leo delivered a back-kick that sent the third attacker tumbling and groaning in pain.
The fourth? Likely the coward of the group, turned and fled immediately.
The first attacker, the one who had dealt Dot the fatal blow, was scrambling away too—clutching his bleeding nose.
Leo wouldn't let him go.
He sprinted after him, launching a flying kick that slammed the man into a brick wall.
The attacker writhed in pain, trying to crawl away.
Leo stepped forward and unleashed a brutal punch to the back of the man's skull.
Crack.
The skull shattered like a brittle eggshell. Blood and bone fragments splattered the wall behind.
The man's body convulsed, then collapsed, face-first into the wall, before falling backward like a broken ragdoll.
His eyes remained wide open, but unfocused. Blood and brain matter pooled beneath him, staining his shirt and the cobblestone.
He twitched once, then went still forever.
Leo exhaled sharply. One escaped—but he had two alive for questioning.
Or so he thought.
Turning around, he saw Carlo and Johnny—each standing over one of the downed attackers. With brutal force, they stomped on their necks.
"Stop!" Leo shouted as he rushed forward.
But the more he yelled, the faster they stomped. By the time Leo reached them, both men were dead.
Their faces frozen in disbelief. It was unmistakable—Carlo and Johnny weren't defending themselves. They were silencing witnesses.
Dot lay in a pool of blood, barely breathing. Next to him, Dolores screamed and wept uncontrollably, soaked in red, unable to understand what had just happened.
A crowd gathered. A few lumber mill workers stepped forward and gasped:
"God—it's the Brown Lumber Company's bodyguards!"
Emily, who had been moving to comfort Dolores, froze mid-step.
She stared at the bodies—and her face turned ghostly pale.
She recognized them.
Three of them had been part of the group who had barred her from seeing her father.
As the mayor's daughter, this revelation sent a ripple through the onlookers. Their eyes shifted to Emily.
Little Dolores looked up, tears in her eyes, and gave Emily a glare filled with hatred.
To the child, Emily must have seemed like the reason for this horror.
Emily opened her mouth to explain—but seeing those familiar faces robbed her of all words. Her body trembled. She wanted to run to the mill and confront her father, but she couldn't move.
Then warmth wrapped around her.
Leo draped his denim jacket over her shoulders and held her tightly.
He led her away from the chaos.
In a quiet alley nearby, Emily stood blank-eyed, whispering:
"Leo… was it really my father? Why would he want Dot dead?"
Leo didn't answer right away. His eyes were cold, his fists clenched.
Carlo and Johnny's kill moves had exposed everything. They weren't rescuers. They were covering their tracks.
Leo had suspected someone was pulling strings yesterday.
But he'd underestimated how vicious business in America could be. Here, like in the Pacific War, life was cheap.
He glanced over at Carlo, now pretending to comfort Dolores.
Leo had hoped to stay on the sidelines. Now, he knew that was impossible.
Dot's brutal death had changed everything—not just because of grief, but because Lynchburg was too small.
Leo couldn't build a real estate empire without stepping on someone's toes. And once he did, these people—without ethics or boundaries—would retaliate.
They had already targeted Emily once.
What if they came for her again?
Leo didn't like being on the defensive. He preferred holding the knife.
And now, he knew exactly where to aim.