Building a Conglomerate in Another World-Chapter 221: Bradford’s Plot

October 1896 – Washington D.C.

Bradford had spent years observing President Matthew Hesh, learning his strengths and weaknesses. He understood that Matthew had a strong moral compass, that he believed Amerathia’s war against Spain had been about justice, not conquest.

But Bradford had also learned something else—Matthew was vulnerable to public pressure.

It was clear now: if they wanted war, they wouldn’t need Matthew’s approval. They only needed the Amerathian people to demand it.

And that’s exactly what Bradford intended to make happen.

Bradford sat in a private meeting with a select group of senators, military officers, and industrialists—men who shared his vision for an Amerathian empire.

A large map of the world was spread across the table in front of them. Amerathia’s new holdings—Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines—were marked in red.

Bradford tapped the map with his index finger. "Gentlemen, we’ve taken our first steps. But this? This is just the beginning."

One of the senators, William Carter, nodded. "The Philippines gives us control of the Pacific, but we need more. We need something closer to home, something that we can easily integrate into Amerathia."

Bradford smirked. "Exactly. We need something the people will support—a cause they can rally behind."

The men leaned in as Bradford continued.

"Matthew will never approve another war willingly. He’s too careful, too concerned with public opinion. But that’s his weakness—he cares what the people think."

"So we make the people want war."

A low murmur spread through the room.

Senator James Whitmore, a staunch expansionist, stroked his beard. "And what target are you suggesting?"

Bradford grinned and pointed to a spot on the map.

United States of Mexico.

"Mexico?" One of the military officers raised an eyebrow. "We have no reason to go to war with them."

Bradford leaned forward. "Not yet."

The room fell silent.

"Mexico is unstable. Their government is weak, their economy is in shambles, and their borders are undefended. If we take control of northern Mexico, we secure our southern border and gain valuable land and resources. But we need a reason."

The industrialist, Richard Hammond, folded his arms. "How do we create a reason?"

Bradford smirked, tapping the map of Mexico spread across the table. "We stage an incident."

The room went silent.

Senator William Carter raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly does that mean?"

Bradford leaned forward, his fingers tracing the Amerathian-Mexican border. "Simple. We create the conditions for war. We can’t convince the President to act, but we can convince the people. If the public demands war, Hesh won’t be able to resist."

The other men at the table—senators, military officers, industrialists—exchanged glances. Some looked intrigued, others wary.

"How?" asked General Lawrence Mitchell, a high-ranking Army officer who had been a strong supporter of Amerathian expansion.

Bradford sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. "We use the press. We plant stories about Mexican bandits attacking Amerathian citizens. We exaggerate instability. Make it seem like Mexico is incapable of controlling its own borders."

Senator James Whitmore nodded. "And once we stir up enough outrage?"

Bradford’s smirk widened. "Then we give them a real reason to go to war."

The men leaned in closer.

"We fake an attack," Bradford continued. "A border skirmish. Make it look like Mexican soldiers crossed into Amerathian territory and slaughtered our men."

General Mitchell furrowed his brow. "That’s a dangerous move. If this backfires—"

"It won’t." Bradford cut him off. "We control the press, we control the narrative. By the time anyone asks questions, Amerathia will already be mobilizing."

Senator Carter tapped the table. "We’d need proof. Something to show the public."

Bradford nodded. "We’ll plant Mexican weapons at the site. Leave behind uniforms, bullet casings, documents—whatever it takes. The moment the newspapers publish the story, the people will demand retribution."

Richard Hammond, a powerful industrialist, leaned forward. "And what about Hesh? He’s not stupid. He’ll question it."

Bradford chuckled. "Of course, he will. But it won’t matter. The pressure will be too great. The newspapers will be calling him weak. Senators will push for war. Protests will break out in every major city. The people won’t wait for diplomacy—they’ll want action. And Hesh will be forced to give it to them."

Silence filled the room as the weight of Bradford’s words sank in.

Then, General Mitchell exhaled. "If we’re doing this, we need the right location."

Bradford gestured toward the map. "Here." His finger rested on a small Amerathian outpost along the border. "Fort McKinley. Isolated, close enough to Mexico that no one will question an attack."

Senator Whitmore nodded. "We’ll need men who can keep their mouths shut."

Bradford smirked. "I already have people in mind."

Late October 1896 – Fort McKinley, Amerathian-Mexican Border

It happened just after midnight.

A group of Amerathian soldiers—handpicked by Bradford—moved in silence, positioning themselves around the outpost.

Inside, the stationed troops had no idea what was about to happen.

The first gunshots rang out, shattering the night.

Explosions followed as the attackers—disguised in Mexican Army uniforms—rushed in, firing into buildings, setting supplies on fire. The chaos lasted less than twenty minutes.

When it was over, dozens of Amerathian soldiers lay dead.

Bradford’s men planted forged documents, Mexican rifles, and ammunition crates marked with the insignia of the Mexican Army before disappearing into the night.

The next morning, the bodies were discovered.

By noon, the newspapers had the story.

October 28, 1896 – Washington D.C.

The headlines were everywhere.

"Massacre at Fort McKinley—Mexican Soldiers Slaughter Amerathian Troops!"

"Border Under Siege—How Long Will We Stand By?"

"Amerathia Must Retaliate!"

Within hours, protests erupted in every major city. The streets were filled with thousands of angry citizens, waving flags, chanting for war.

In Congress, senators demanded immediate military action.

Bradford sat in his office, watching the chaos unfold with a satisfied smirk.

It had worked.

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Now, all that was left was for Matthew Hesh to fall into the trap.

Matthew slammed the newspaper onto his desk, his jaw clenched. Across from him, Sinclair, Alden, Welles, and Bradford stood in silence.

"What the hell happened?" Matthew’s voice was cold.

Sinclair inhaled sharply. "Fort McKinley was attacked, sir. Over forty Amerathian soldiers dead. The reports confirm that Mexican forces were responsible."

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "Who confirmed it?"

Bradford stepped forward. "The evidence is undeniable. Mexican weapons were found at the site, along with military documents from their officers. The press has already published the details."

Matthew stared at him. Something felt off. It was too convenient.

"And where were the survivors?" Matthew asked. "Did we capture any Mexican soldiers?"

Sinclair hesitated. "No, sir. The attackers retreated."

Matthew’s hands tightened into fists. "So let me get this straight—an entire Mexican unit crosses the border, kills forty of our men, and then just vanishes without a trace?"

Bradford shrugged. "They knew what they were doing. They didn’t want to leave witnesses."

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Matthew didn’t believe a word of it.

But before he could push further, Sinclair dropped a document onto his desk. "Mr. President, Congress is already drafting a declaration of war."

Matthew’s breath slowed. "Without my approval?"

Bradford nodded. "The people want justice. If you don’t act, they’ll do it for you."

"What the heck, I need to contact their ambassador. I mean this is just too ridiculous on the side of the Mexicans. We defeated them in a war not long ago…"

"It seems that the Mexicans want to go again," Bradford replied.