HLnovel Chapter 326 - 161: The Invitation
Chapter 326 - 161: The Invitation
Pittsburgh City Hall, the Mayor’s Office.
A knock came at the office door, and the receptionist pushed it open and walked in.
She wore a peculiar expression, carefully holding a black envelope in her hands.
"Mr. Mayor," the receptionist said, walking up to his desk. "Someone came downstairs just now."
"Did they have an appointment?" Leo asked without looking up, his pen still gliding across a document.
"No," the receptionist said, shaking her head. "But I think you should see this."
She gently placed the black envelope on his desk.
"The man was very unusual. He was wearing a dark uniform, white gloves, and even one of those old-fashioned chauffeur hats. He didn’t look like a courier; he was more like a butler from a wealthy family in the movies."
The receptionist recalled the scene, her voice still tinged with surprise.
"He brought a letter and refused to leave it in the mailroom. He insisted that it be signed for in person by someone from the Mayor’s Office, and that he required a signed receipt."
"His whole demeanor intimidated the security guards at the door. He was so serious that I just signed for it and brought it up."
Leo stopped his pen.
He looked up, his gaze falling on the envelope.
The envelope was pitch-black and made of heavy stock, with a fine, fabric-like texture and a matte gold-leaf border.
Leo reached out, took the envelope, and then waved a hand, dismissing the receptionist.
It was a little heavy.
Leo looked at the front of the envelope, where his name was written in cursive:
To His Excellency Leo Wallace, Mayor of Pittsburgh.
The line was handwritten.
The ink was slightly raised on the paper and gave off a faint scent of pine resin.
The writer had used a dip pen.
Leo opened the envelope and took out the stiff invitation card inside.
The invitation’s design was exceedingly simple: gold text on a black background, with no extra patterns or decorations.
Pennsylvania Historical and Art Preservation Foundation Annual Charity Gala.
Time: This Saturday, 7:00 PM.
Location: Philadelphia, Chestnut Hill, Saint Claude Manor.
Host: Evelyn Saint Cloud.
Leo frowned.
"Saint Claude?"
Leo murmured the name, his finger gently tracing the envelope’s gold border.
Of course he knew that surname.
In Pennsylvania, Saint Claude wasn’t just a family—it was a symbol, a piece of living history.
When Morganfield was still selling newspapers on the street, the Saint Claude Family was already laughing and chatting with the governor in a private box.
Their enterprises spanned media, real estate, trust funds, and art collection.
And Evelyn Saint Cloud, the eldest daughter of the family, was also its current actual Sect Leader.
Leo searched his memory for information about her.
Twenty-eight years old. She had taken over all family affairs after the elder Saint Claude had a stroke three years ago.
Legend had it she was cold and rational, with exceedingly refined tastes.
Leo called out to the familiar voice in his mind. ’Mr. President.’
’What do you think? This Evelyn Saint Cloud, what does she want?’
’I’ve never dealt with these people before. They’re Philadelphia’s old money, people who live in the clouds. There are a hundred steel mills standing between them and me.’
Roosevelt’s voice soon rang out.
’Murphy went to Washington wreathed in a halo of victory, busy building connections with the party’s bigwigs. And you, the man who pushed him there, the rising star who’s made such a splash in the Rust Belt, have naturally caught the attention of these old-money families.’
’She probably wants to observe you up close, to assess your value.’
’Should I go, then?’ Leo asked. ’These high-society gatherings sound so boring. I’d rather go to a bar in the South District and have a drink with the workers.’
’Of course you should go,’ Roosevelt replied decisively.
’Why wouldn’t you? It’s the most powerful network of connections in all of Pennsylvania.’
’You need to deal with these people, Leo.’
’You can’t just hang around construction sites drinking cheap beer with Frank and the others forever. If you want to govern this city, if you want to push for greater change, you have to learn how to navigate the world of these people who live in the clouds.’
’Go see their world. Go smell the stench of rotting money.’
Roosevelt let out a delighted laugh. ’If all else fails...’
’...you can at least get a good meal out of it. Believe me, the chefs for a family like this are a thousand times better than the ones in the city hall cafeteria. It would be a real loss not to try their Beef Wellington.’
...
「Saturday evening.」
「Northwest Philadelphia, Chestnut Hill.」
This was an affluent district in Pennsylvania.
Slate-paved roads wound and twisted, flanked by towering ancient trees whose canopies intertwined, obscuring the sky.
On either side of the roads were manors hidden behind high walls and landscaped gardens.
Most of these buildings were constructed in the nineteenth century, exuding a sense of gravity and indifference that had been weathered by time.
A black sedan drove slowly through the gates of Saint Claude Manor.
Leo sat in the back seat.
He wore a deep navy blue suit of crisp fabric and a tailored fit, his tie knotted impeccably.
He watched the bushes and the marble statues scattered across the lawns flash past his window.
Everything here silently proclaimed a certain order.
An inviolable order built from money and time.
The car stopped in front of a massive Victorian-style main building.
A thick red carpet was laid out beneath the portico.
Two uniformed attendants stepped forward to open the car door, their movements perfectly standard.
Leo got out of the car.