Robert Taft and Rick Taft both came.
As a heavyweight in the Republican Party, Robert had a vague idea why Leo had summoned them.
He knew this had to be a big event—something that could elevate one's standing—so he deliberately brought Rick along.
The Taft family had long been tied to Leo's camp. Over the past two years, Rick had gained plenty of experience and was ready to continue his revolving door journey between business and politics.
But for that door to keep turning, he still needed Leo's money.
Once everyone was seated, Tony Lip brought over a stack of newspapers and handed them out.
The moment people glanced at the headlines, their eyes all turned to Thomas.
Everyone here was a political animal—sensitive to every shift in the wind.
They all knew what had been happening recently in Virginia.
Virginia was in chaos.
Led by the Jefferson and Hutchinson families, a massive political offensive had been launched against Leo.
Both sides attacked each other in the press, trading speeches and accusations. Nearly every city council in the state had received impeachment motions filed by each faction against the other's representatives.
So far, the old political families of Virginia—those with deeper roots—had gained the upper hand.
The mood in both houses of the Virginia legislature had shifted dramatically.
Many fence-sitters had already chosen a side. Especially since the war had broken out and MacArthur was winning victory after victory, people's moves had become even quicker.
Thomas and his faction within Virginia's Democratic Party had clearly fallen behind.
The turmoil in Virginia was even rippling through Washington, D.C., where undercurrents began to surge.
That was precisely why Leo had called this meeting.
He had opened a new front and won there.
Now, it was time to reclaim the ground the enemy had seized.
"Everyone here probably has a good guess about why I've called you," Leo began directly. "We're all busy people, so I'll get straight to the point.
Thomas is going to take the Democratic forces under his control—and join the Republican Party.
As agreed before, the credit for this will go to Robert and Earl, strengthening your influence within the Republican ranks."
He smiled faintly. "Of course, such a big gift doesn't come for free."
He turned his gaze toward Eisenhower.
"First," Leo said, "we must make our stance clear: we'll fully support Eisenhower's campaign for President.
Any objections?"
Everyone's eyes instinctively turned toward Dewey—the man who had lost the last presidential election because of Leo.
Dewey had publicly declared many times that he intended to run again.
Had it not been for the invitations from Taft and Eisenhower, he probably wouldn't have shown up at all.
After all, Dewey had never believed he lost to Truman, that "farmer."
He believed he lost to Leo.
But ever since that defeat, Dewey's standing in the party had been deteriorating.
Most Republicans blamed his arrogance and self-righteousness for the loss, and their broken promises had turned into nothing but mirages.
The blame was laid squarely on Dewey's shoulders.
Life had been difficult for him ever since.
His repeated claims of wanting to run again were more about staying relevant—keeping himself in the public eye—than genuine ambition.
Deep down, he knew his time had passed.
The best way to ensure his own and his family's continued influence was to invest in the next election.
And Dewey knew full well that Leo valued him only because he was the previous Republican candidate—someone whose endorsement still carried weight within the party and among its supporters.
What shocked him more, however, was discovering that Taft had openly allied himself with Leo—and that Earl Warren had also joined Leo's camp.
That realization left him uneasy.
Leo, it seemed, was still as formidable as ever.
When the Democrats came after Leo, Leo simply turned around and led a large bloc of Democratic powerbrokers straight into the Republican Party.
Back when they were rivals, Dewey had suffered endlessly at Leo's hands.
Now that they were allies—plotting together to crush others and reap the rewards—he found a certain perverse thrill in it.
So when all eyes turned to him, Dewey nodded and said,
"I agree with Mr. Valentino. As the former Republican presidential nominee, I will personally invite General Eisenhower to run in the next election.
If needed, I'm even willing to serve as his running mate."
His statement served two purposes: showing cooperation—and hinting at his personal ambition to become Vice President.
But his former running mate, California Governor Earl Warren, had other plans. His own goal was also the vice presidency.
He immediately objected:
"You can join the campaign, Dewey, but the ticket needs balance between East and West. With General Eisenhower from the East, the West must be represented by me."
Leo, seeing that his first proposal had been accepted, ignored their squabbling and moved on.
"The second matter," he continued, and both men promptly fell silent, "is that the Virginia Republican Party will be managed by Thomas.
We must maintain our influence there—at least control one of the two houses."
"No problem," Robert Taft replied. "That benefits all of us.
Mr. Valentino, if you make this happen, you'll be the greatest benefactor our party has seen in decades."
Then Robert turned to Thomas.
"Thomas, could you arrange for my son Rick to develop in Virginia?"
Clearly, everyone at the table had their own agenda.
Robert Taft was no exception.
Thomas didn't answer immediately.
He knew why Robert made this request—the Taft family's internal feuds were no secret.
Although Robert appeared to be the family's patriarch, true control rested with his brother Charles back in Ohio, and the two were bitter rivals.
Rick could never thrive in Ohio under Charles's shadow.
Robert was trying to find his son a new path.
Thomas didn't object. He'd met Rick several times—he was indeed promising.
Besides, Leo's empire was expanding too quickly; Thomas often relied on his influence.
Since his own son wasn't suited to inherit much, investing in a capable protégé made sense.
Still, he didn't answer before glancing toward Leo.
He was an old fox—he knew this was Leo's call to make.
Leo nodded approvingly. He had no reason to oppose it; in fact, he welcomed it.
Consensus brought a pleasant atmosphere.
And as everyone realized that what they were planning would soon shake all of America, excitement filled the room.
When the banquet ended, Leo—as usual—arranged "special entertainment" for his guests.
But not for himself.
He was waiting for someone.
Soon, that person arrived.
"Mr. Valentino," said Wallace, "did you summon me here just to show me the Democrats' downfall—or are you trying to recruit me into the Republicans as well?"
Leo smiled.
His relationship with Wallace was complicated.
Before Truman's election, they had been enemies.
Afterward, Leo extended goodwill—and even arranged for his son Luke to marry Wallace's granddaughter, sealing an alliance between their families.
Yes—before his son had even come of age, Leo had already arranged his marriage.
It was all for this moment.
"I don't want you to join the Republicans," Leo said calmly.
"On the contrary—I want you to return to the Democrats.
Once Thomas leaves, there won't be many elders left capable of stabilizing the party.
To quickly calm their panic, they'll need to bring back someone who can reassure them.
And that person… is you."
Wallace frowned. "Plenty of people know I attended your dinner tonight. Many know our relationship has improved. You really think they'll take me back?"
Leo chuckled.
"Tell me, Wallace—how many Democrats truly stand against me?
How many still miss the days when, as their patron, I showered them with wealth and favors?
How many remember that I brought the party its golden years—and still believe I belong with them?
MacArthur's war forced many into choices they didn't want to make.
They'll understand why I joined the Republicans for self-preservation.
And they'll want to leave a door open—a future possibility.
That possibility… is you.
Once I emerge victorious, the Democrats will still have a claim to power through you."
Wallace sighed, gazing at Leo.
"I see. If I were in their shoes, I'd do the same. But I'll need some time to prepare a convincing excuse to go back. Can you wait that long?"
Leo grinned.
"Who said we need to make excuses? Tonight's meeting is the perfect reason for your return."
"This can be revealed?" Wallace asked in surprise.
"Why not?" Leo said calmly.
Then Wallace understood.
The plan would become public in two days at most—far too late for anyone to stop it.
Even if he told the Democrats now, their internal disarray would prevent any meaningful response.
"I'll go right now."
Wallace drove straight to the home of his former secretary, Illinois Senator Alfonso Fonte.
Fonte fit Leo's description perfectly—a man forced by the war to pick a side, someone who still had a good impression of Leo, and, more importantly, one of the most influential figures in the party after its top three leaders.
When Wallace showed up unannounced, Fonte was surprised.
But after hearing what Leo's dinner meeting had decided, his expression changed drastically.
"I'm going to see Mr. Valentino," Fonte said, standing up. "The Democrats have done so much for him—he can't just do this!"
Wallace grabbed his arm. His tone turned cold.
"I came to you with Mr. Valentino's knowledge."
That stopped Fonte in his tracks.
He was a shrewd man—he understood instantly.
Wallace's message was clear: this was Leo's will.
There was no changing it.
Fonte frowned deeply.
The Democratic Party was splintering, its factions tearing each other apart like in Virginia, and public support was collapsing.
If Thomas and the Southern Democrats really left, the party would face its worst crisis in fifty years.
But as someone bound tightly to the party, Fonte's first thought wasn't to jump ship—it was to save it.
If he could turn this crisis into an opportunity, he might rise into the party's top trio himself.
He looked at Wallace.
"If Thomas leaves, your return would be the best solution."
Then, seeing Wallace's faint smile, and remembering his words about Leo's knowledge, realization dawned.
This was Leo's plan all along—to send Wallace back and have him replace Thomas.
"But if I issue the invitation alone," Fonte said cautiously, "it might seem too weak."
"Mr. Valentino never fights unprepared," Wallace replied.
"The party whip, Gerald, will cooperate with you."
Fonte knew Gerald well—the former Federal Housing Administrator. Mediocre, yes, but Leo had single-handedly pushed him into the party whip's seat.
And even mediocrity, after two years as whip, meant deep connections.
With Gerald's support, success was assured.
Still, Fonte wondered what was in it for him.
Wallace answered before he could ask:
"Mr. Valentino instructed me to tell you—when I take Thomas's place as Speaker, Gerald stays as whip.
As for you… he believes Majority Leader of the House would be a fitting reward."
The number two in the party. Fonte's eyes lit up.
He liked that. Very much.
At the same time, he couldn't help admiring Leo's audacity.
Joining the Republican Party while simultaneously taking control of the Democrats—
Such ambition was breathtaking.
"What do you need me to do now?" Fonte asked.
"Call an emergency meeting," Wallace said. "Tell them what Mr. Valentino plans—and use that moment to welcome me back into the party."
Inside the Democratic Party's permanent conference room at the Jefferson Hotel in Washington, D.C., smoke filled the air.
Every face looked heavy with worry.
The faint red of dawn slipped through the curtains, reminding them how long they'd been there.
At the head of the table, Alfonso Fonte spoke gravely:
"That's the situation.
We're all veterans of the Democratic Party.
So—let's decide what to do."
Forty men sat around him—the core of the party's remaining leadership.
There should have been seventy.
But the thirty others were suspected of imminent defection.
Naturally, they weren't invited.