Chapter 582 - 272: Pennsylvania, Pennsylvania

Aston Monroe was probably lost in the illusion of power, thinking he had become the master of this land.

’You’d better be smart about this, Aston.’

Leo stared at the departing National Guard vehicles outside the window, his internal voice flat and nearly ruthless.

’Don’t think that just because you’re wearing the governor’s skin, you’re a real king. I put you in that chair with my own two hands, and I can just as easily kick you right out of it.’

If Monroe dared to play any games with Luigi’s pardon, or tried to turn on him after securing his position, Leo would make sure the new governor set an even more embarrassing record.

The shortest-serving governor in history.

He set the rules, and he dictated the tempo.

In this game called Pennsylvania, no one could step outside the circle he had drawn.

Not even the governor.

...

「Harrisburg. The Governor’s Office.」

Aston Monroe sat behind the desk that had once belonged to Bob Campbell.

He reached out, his fingertips slowly gliding across the cool, smooth lacquer of the desktop.

It was an entirely new sensation.

Unlike the Vice Governor’s office, the air here was heavy, solemn, and carried the scent of history.

This was the scent of power.

Monroe adjusted his posture, letting his back sink deep into the wide leather chair.

He turned his head to look out the floor-to-ceiling window.

Campbell was gone.

He had returned to his estate in Philadelphia with his dignity and his family’s honor, tail tucked between his legs.

Now, this was Monroe’s territory.

The phone on the desk suddenly began to ring.

Monroe glanced at the caller ID.

Pittsburgh City Hall.

He knew this call would come.

He also knew what the person on the other end wanted.

Monroe didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let it ring three times before unhurriedly picking up the receiver.

"Hello, Leo."

Monroe’s voice carried the distinct composure and reserve of someone newly in power.

"The pardon."

On the other end of the line, Leo Wallace’s voice dispensed with pleasantries and cut straight to the point.

"Aston, you’re in the chair now, and William has the gavel. It’s time. Initiate the pardon board’s procedures immediately."

"I want Luigi Randall out of that Philadelphia prison within twenty-four hours."

Monroe raised an eyebrow.

He shifted his position and propped his feet up on the desk—a move Campbell would never have made. But he was the master here now.

"Leo, my friend."

Monroe gazed at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

"You’re being too hasty."

"Hasty?" Leo’s voice grew colder. "Look outside your window, Aston. Harrisburg may be quiet, but the rest of America is still on fire."

"The auto workers in Ohio are on strike, the ports in Detroit are still shut down, and the nurses in New York are marching."

"This rage has reached a boiling point."

"We need to give this high-pressure situation a release, and Luigi’s freedom is that pressure valve."

"The moment he’s out, the moment he stands in front of a camera and says a few words—tells everyone that justice has been served—this storm that’s about to spiral out of control will die down."

"We need to get things back on a constructive track, not continue these street confrontations."

Leo’s judgment was sharp.

As the instigator of this movement, he knew better than anyone that populism was a double-edged sword.

When used to topple the old order, it was an unstoppable weapon.

But if allowed to burn unchecked, it would incinerate the foundations, the order itself, and even Leo.

The unrest was a tool, not the goal.

When the old king had abdicated and the transfer of power was complete, allowing the chaos to continue spreading would be foolish.

It would only give Washington a pretext to intervene, a reason to march troops into Pennsylvania to "restore order"—and clean up the arsonist who started the fire while they were at it.

What was needed now was stability.

If the riots continued to escalate, Washington’s patience would snap.

And then, Leo Wallace would become public enemy number one.

"You’re right, Leo. The situation is indeed tense."

Monroe’s voice remained steady.

"However, a pardon isn’t as simple as signing a piece of paper."

"It’s a legal process."

"I’ve just taken over. There are a lot of documents to hand over, a lot of personnel to reshuffle. And I still need to reappoint the experts on the pardon board."

"It will take time."

"Don’t give me that bureaucratic bullshit!" Leo shot back. "Aston, our deal was crystal clear. I put you in power, and you release the man."

"You have no reason to delay!"

"A reason?"

Monroe laughed.

He picked up a cigar from the desk—part of Campbell’s leftover stock.

"Leo, reasons can change."

"Situations can change, too."

"I’m the governor now. I represent the law and order of the state of Pennsylvania."

"If on my very first day in office, I pardon a murderer who was just sentenced to thirty years..."

"What will the media say? What will the voters think?"

"They’ll say I’m a puppet for the radicals, that I have contempt for the justice system."

"It would damage the State Government’s credibility."

"Besides," Monroe said, lighting the cigar and exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"I don’t think it’s such a bad thing for him to spend a few more days in prison."

"Why?" Leo’s voice turned dangerous. "Are you trying to back out of our deal?"

"No, no, no."

Monroe stared at the burning tip in his fingers.

"I’m just wondering... this wave of public sentiment, this fire of rage burning across All of America... does it really need to be extinguished right now?"