Chapter 818: After the Victory

In the mobile estate in York State, the governor held a crystal wine glass filled with a wine worth over a thousand per bottle. His face was slightly flushed—he had been drinking for a while.

Drinking in winter helped warm the body and aided sleep.

He had been watching the final vote count, all the way until the President was declared the winner.

The next two years would be secure—he could even consider running for another term.

That’s the benefit a party gains when one of their own becomes President. Voters naturally lean toward governors from the President’s side rather than those from the Conservative Party.

It was a common mindset. Ordinary people didn’t understand the complexity of federal politics—they simply believed that when problems arose, one of our own would be more reliable.

His son, nephew, and several siblings were sitting nearby. The presidential election was critical for the governor’s entire family.

Smiles of relief appeared on everyone’s faces. Some of the younger ones even suggested going out to celebrate.

The governor took a sip of wine, placed the glass on the side table, and raised his hand. The room instantly fell silent.

Whether junior or senior, sibling or uncle, everyone looked at him. The family revolved around the governor—he was its true leader.

He licked the remaining wine from his lips and said, “Tomorrow, arrange for parade w in various cities, get people out celebrating the President’s victory. Make it lively—get it on TV.”

As a key figure within the Progressive Party, the governor had to show loyalty. If everyone else was celebrating and he wasn’t, people would question his stance.

Everyone nodded. These celebrations would cost money, but the returns would come quickly.

With a Progressive president in office, governors from the same party would receive larger budgets. Even a little leakage from those funds would cover the costs.

The governor looked at his nephew, who immediately straightened up.

“First thing tomorrow, go to Sabin City and meet with…”—he glanced at Edwin, forgetting the name for a moment.

Edwin, the governor’s uncle and key advisor in state politics, reminded him, “Ferrell.”

The governor nodded repeatedly as the name clicked. “Right, Ferrell, the mayor of Sabin. Go meet with him—he’s resigning soon.”

“Before he steps down, learn from him how to be a competent mayor.”

“Ferrell may not be well known, but he’s proven capable in city management. He also has a close relationship with Lynch.”

“You don’t have to like him—but don’t offend him. Understand?”

His nephew quickly nodded. “I’ll learn everything I can from Mr. Ferrell. I won’t offend him!”

The governor might seem like a local emperor—taking down a multinational corporation or a key local economic pillar with ease.

But that was only because neither that corporation nor Lystoan had access to anyone higher than a senator.

While similar in political rank to a governor, senators lacked the same power.

It was the absence of strong high-level connections that led to their downfall.

Just look at the first- and mid-generation federal consortia—it’s easier to replace a president than to take them down.

Lynch, however, had already entered those upper tiers of society. He had strong ties with both the president and the military. He wielded serious power—offending him carelessly was a bad idea.

Ferrell might seem like an unremarkable acting mayor, but some places were even considering appointing him formally.

On one hand, his management skills were solid, even excellent. He had long been the one directly engaging with the public and deeply involved in all aspects of the city—unlike his predecessor.

He understood urban development, knew what people wanted, and grasped what capitalists demanded.

On the other hand, his connection to Lynch might also bring in significant investment.

The governor nodded, paused for a moment, and said, “I’m tired. Edwin, stay.”

The other family members got up, said their goodbyes, and filed out in an orderly manner. Soon, only the governor and Edwin remained.

“You can reach out to Lynch now—ask him what he thinks about what we discussed last time.”

The governor was referring to their last meeting, when he proposed building a new pillar industry around one of York State’s sectors—something like Lystoan or EverBright.

Such a company wouldn’t just provide local jobs; the upstream and downstream industries it would stimulate could revitalize the state’s entire economy.

Once the economy picked up, public satisfaction with the government would rise, and the governor’s path to re-election would be secure.

After all, these results would be credited to him. People would remember.

In good times, people might think a new governor could bring even greater profits.

But in hard times, even a bowl of rice could feel like a divine gift.

Edwin nodded. “And… on the policy side?”

The governor had just said he was tired, but he looked anything but—he seemed energized.

“He’s close with the President and also on good terms with Truman. I’ll give him some policy support, and the President will offer the rest.”

“As long as it doesn’t violate the Constitution, I’ll meet whatever needs he has.”

That had been Lynch’s condition—he would only decide after the President’s victory.

It might seem like a delay of a few months or a year, but history is full of people who thought they had it in the bag and started laying out their plans early—only to end up with nothing.

Without certainty, no investor commits. Not a cent.

Now that the President had won, and Lynch was a major campaign contributor, the President had both the duty and the incentive to reward him generously.

This was the nature of the game—the essence of federal politics.

From the local level to the federal government, everything was greenlit. Even a fool could make money if they invested under such conditions.

But this raised a question: if investment was guaranteed not to lose money, why didn’t the governor invest himself and instead wanted Lynch to do it?

The reason was both complicated and simple. It involved federal ideology and certain unspoken rules. Because beyond money, it required coordination and capability.

Could a politician’s family run businesses in the region he governed?

Technically, federal law allowed it, as long as there was no abuse of power for personal gain. But in practice, it was nearly impossible.

If a politician approved outrageous policies for others, people would complain about the corruption of politics and capital.

But if he approved policies for himself, society would explode.

Shamelessly exploiting the power granted by the people for personal gain… would be the mildest criticism. Some newspapers might just plaster an expletive across the front page.

This was inevitable. Business growth relied on policy, and the public and media didn’t care about the specifics. All they cared about was whether the official was involved.

So, while a governor’s family could do business, it couldn’t be on a large scale—and definitely not in his own territory.

Lynch was a perfect choice. A native of York State, he had received early support from the governor and was someone who knew how to show gratitude.

Now, with all the conditions in place, he should know what to do.

At the same time, this also laid a foundation for the governor’s nephew.

If Lynch’s project landed in Sabin City, his nephew would undoubtedly be the first to benefit.

Look—he just took office, cleaned up a mess, secured major investment from Lynch, and gained his friendship. That was a political achievement with real weight.

The governor couldn’t serve forever. One day, he’d have to retire. He needed to groom a successor within the family.

Capital wasn’t the worry—once the policies were in place, as said before, even a fool could make money.

What they needed was someone who could raise the family’s flag high in politics.

The governor had even started planning—two or four years from now, he could voluntarily step down, let someone else become governor, and use that concession to trade for long-term stability for his nephew—perhaps even a shot at the presidency.

“Should I call him now?”

The governor shook his head. “They’re definitely celebrating. Don’t bother them right now. Wait a couple of days—Eminence won’t stay quiet during this time…”

The news of the President’s victory had spread everywhere by the next day. Every media outlet was reporting it, and the full force of the media blitz was on display.

People were discussing what changes the new President might bring—whether the economy would recover, and whether the Federation would play a greater role on the world stage.

At that moment, Lynch stood outside the Presidential Mansion with a large group of Progressives and capitalists, watching the President take the oath of office.

The sunlight today was a bit harsh.