Washington, D.C., Capitol Hill.
In the closed-door meeting room of the Senate Military Committee, a sense of oppression lingered.
The war had entered its second year, and with the Southern problem still unresolved, President Lincoln was growing increasingly uneasy.
News from the front lines was a mix of good and bad, but the only certainty was that the war's brutality and cost had far exceeded even the most pessimistic pre-war estimates.
"Gentlemen."
Secretary Stanton of the Department of the Army personally attended the meeting, his face etched with fatigue and anxiety.
"President Lincoln has signed the new conscription act. Before next spring, we need to arm another army of 500,000 men."
He placed a thick budget report on the conference table. "And this means our logistical system will face unprecedented pressure."
"For soldier rations alone, we need an emergency budget of at least ten million dollars."
Ten million dollars.
This figure made all the senators present gasp.
"Secretary Stanton."
Senator Clark, the Chairman of the committee, was the first to speak.
"Money, Congress can approve. But we must ensure that this money is truly spent where it matters most. I don't want to see a repeat of the Peninsula Campaign, where we spent the money, but the soldiers could only eat moldy biscuits and rotten salted meat."
"You are right, Chairman Clark."
Secretary Stanton nodded. "Therefore, we need to discuss today how to select the most reliable suppliers."
"Regarding this," Senator Clark looked around and slowly said, "I believe we already have a very successful example of cooperation."
"I propose that this new contract be directly awarded to Argyle & Co. Foods of New York."
This proposal was like a stone thrown into a calm lake.
"I object."
A discordant voice immediately rang out.
It was Senator Hans from Pennsylvania, a politician known for his eloquent rhetoric and "deep" business background.
"Chairman Clark."
Hans's face showed an expression of well-meaning concern. "Like you, I greatly admire Argyle's youth and promise. He is an outstanding representative of our Northern industrial spirit."
Then he changed his tone. "However, do we really want to entrust the most important lifeline, the rations for hundreds of thousands of soldiers, entirely to a new company that has been established for less than two years?"
"Is this... not a bit too hasty and risky?"
"Why not consider those loyal, long-standing suppliers who have served the Union Army for years?" he continued. "For example, those meat processing plants in our Pennsylvania with decades of history. Or those experienced canning workshops in Baltimore. Should we completely abandon these valuable national assets just because of one successful contract?"
"This is not just a business issue, gentlemen."
His voice was full of seductive infectiousness.
"This is a question of 'fairness,' and even more, a question of national strategic security. Putting all the cheese in one place is a rookie mistake that no competent strategist would ever make."
Senator Clark watched him finish his performance quietly, then said with a slight sneer.
"Senator Hans, regarding those 'loyal old' suppliers you mentioned, according to the report submitted by General Reed, their performance in the last contract was hardly glorious."
"Spoiled meat, delayed shipments, and even commercial fraud using horse meat to impersonate beef."
Clark's voice suddenly turned cold. "These are the cruel realities our army has faced over the past year."
"Perhaps."
Hans did not argue with Clark head-on; he cleverly turned to another, more damaging line of attack.
"But Chairman Clark, you may have overlooked another issue."
"Some commercial reputation issues concerning Argyle himself."
"As far as I know," Hans said, "this young industrial genius recently became a financial speculator on Wall Street. Last month, the catastrophic bankruptcy of Knickerbocker Bank had the shadow of his Patriot Investment Company behind it."
"Gentlemen, do we really want to entrust the mess halls of Union soldiers to a Wall Street shark who profits by creating financial disasters? What kind of signal would this send to the public?"
Clearly, this was an attack on Felix's personal morality.
Some whispers began to emerge in the meeting room.
But Senator Clark's face showed no sign of panic.
He knew that someone would definitely attack from this angle, but Catherine's office in Washington had already prepared his counter-arguments.
"Senator Hans."
Clark's voice remained steady. "Your intelligence is well-informed; Argyle is indeed a very successful investor."
"But what you might not know is..." He changed his tone. "What he has done with every penny he earned on Wall Street."
He tilted his head slightly towards his assistant behind him.
Seeing this, the assistant quickly stepped forward and placed two mysterious velvet-wrapped items in the center of the conference table.
Clark unveiled the first velvet cloth.
Inside was a crystal-clear glass bottle, containing golden-hued peach slices that seemed to carry the warmth of sunlight.
"This is canned fruit, newly developed by Argyle's company," Clark introduced. "It uses a new low-temperature vacuum preservation technology that maximizes the retention of fruit flavor and nutrition. It will be our ultimate weapon in solving the increasingly severe scurvy problem in the army."
Then he unveiled the second velvet cloth.
Inside was an unremarkable small brown glass bottle.
"And this," Clark's tone became unprecedentedly solemn, "is the second research result from Argyle's private chemical laboratory, which he established with most of the profits he earned from Wall Street."
"A new surgical disinfectant, named 'Iodoglycerol' by their scientists."
He passed a research report, personally written by Dr. Thorne and filled with detailed experimental data, to every senator present.
"According to hundreds of experiments conducted on living organisms, this disinfectant can reduce the postoperative infection rate of common battlefield open wounds from a horrifying seventy percent to less than ten percent."
"Gentlemen."
Clark stood up, his gaze like a sharp sword, directly at Senator Hans, whose face had already turned ashen.
"Senator Hans accused Argyle of being a 'financial shark.'"
"The fact is, Argyle has transformed the profits he seized from the financial market into food and medicine that can save the lives of tens of thousands of our soldiers."
He directed his gaze at Hans.
"Now, you tell me."
"A 'loyal' old friend who only knows how to fill his pockets with rotten salted meat."
"And a patriotic businessman who is using his wealth and wisdom to win the future for our army."
As his words increased, Chairman Thomas Clark's tone and momentum grew heavier.
"Who should we choose?"
"Luke Stanley..."
"Answer me!"
----
The meeting concluded with the political storm in Washington ending in a way most favorable to Felix.
A few days later, Major Carter, Felix's most reliable ally in the military, came to the company.
He brought with him a federal military procurement contract large enough to once again shake the entire American business community.
Felix's office was filled with an atmosphere of ease and joy.
"Felix," Major Carter pushed a thick, wax-sealed document across the desk to Felix.
"First, on behalf of General Reed and the military, I would like to thank you and your company once again for developing new products."
"This is my duty as a federal entrepreneur, Edward," Felix smiled.
"If only all businessmen were like you," Carter said with a hint of admiration, "Now let's talk about your new responsibilities as our most important partner for the next phase."
"The gentlemen in Washington, after intense discussions, finally approved a brand new logistics budget totaling ten million dollars."
"And more than half of that will belong to you."
"A six-million-dollar, six-month supply contract."
Even Catherine, who had mentally prepared herself, couldn't help but gasp at the astronomical figure.
Carter didn't give her time to be shocked; he opened the contract and began to explain its details.
"This contract is divided into two parts, each worth three million dollars."
"The first part is about food," he said, "The military will continue to purchase two million dollars worth of beef canned goods from you. At the same time, it will purchase one million dollars worth of the new type of fruit canned goods you previously submitted. The military has high hopes for it, and we need various fruit canned goods in tin cans."
"And the second part is about medical supplies."
"Senator Clark directly submitted Dr. Thorne's experimental report to the President's medical advisor, and it garnered significant attention at the highest level."
"So," he looked at Felix, "The military decided to prepay your Iodoglycerol order in dollars, allowing you to use this money to quickly complete subsequent research and development and establish a production line that can meet the needs of the entire federal army."
Felix's face was full of smiles; prepaying funds, the military really was generous.
"Of course, no problem. I guarantee I will produce the medicine as quickly as possible."
When Carter left, satisfied, with the signed copy of the contract.
The office erupted into prolonged cheers.
Jones, Miller, and Dr. Thorne, who had just been invited, all looked at Felix with joyful eyes.
"Boss..." Jones's voice was a little hoarse as he spoke, "Six million dollars... Can we... can we really handle it?"
"No," Catherine said directly.
She had recovered from the shock and stepped into her role as Chief Operating Officer.
"Even if our factory uses all its capacity to produce military rations, it can barely complete the three million food order in six months. And the three million medical order..." She looked at Dr. Thorne, "We don't even have a factory to produce it yet."
"It's not just a factory problem, Boss," Dr. Thorne also spoke, his face filled with a scientist's rigor.
"Disinfectant and canned goods are two completely different fields. Its production requires a stricter sterile environment and more precise chemical purification equipment."
"Boss, I am a researcher, not a factory manager."
All the problems pointed to the same core.
Felix's wildly expanding business empire, like an octopus, encountered its biggest bottleneck for the first time—the lack of management talent.
Currently, there are only four people under his companies who can be called company managers.
Argyle & Co. Foods is managed by Catherine.
Bill manages the Metropolitan United Meats Company.
Reeves is in charge of the Mississippi and Eastern Railway.
Argyle Empire Bank is managed by Templeton and Hayes, who were invited.
As for the Chicago Truth? It's all operated by the recruited editor-in-chief, Moore, and Felix isn't overly concerned with the media industry at this stage.
Among them, none were original company heads, but rather temporarily recruited, and only Catherine was trained by their own company.
The food company itself also has a manufacturing plant that needs management, so Felix is currently very short on management personnel.
"You're all right," Felix said after a long silence.
He looked at Dr. Thorne.
"Dr., I will immediately inject capital to establish a brand new independent company, named Umbrella Pharmaceuticals."
"I will personally serve as the first president of this company," Felix made the decision, "And Dr., your only task is to complete all subsequent experiments on Iodoglycerol within half a month and provide me with a standardized production process that can be mass-produced."
Then he turned to Catherine.
"Catherine. I need you to find a new factory site for Umbrella Pharmaceuticals and oversee its construction or directly purchase an existing pharmaceutical factory."
After a moment's thought, Felix added, "Additionally, I need you to establish a talent development system."
"Talent development?"
"Yes," Felix nodded, "As my career grows, there will be more and more company factories, and there won't be enough management talent, so you need to discover them within our company, from the squad leaders promoted by Jones, from the smart clerks in your office, and even from the bank and railway companies."
"Select those who are smart and loyal, and form a management reserve class."
"You need to cultivate managers who can stand on their own as quickly as possible for me."
An internal talent development strategy was articulated by Felix.
"And you, Miller and Jones, take some time to read more books, and you can also discuss company development with me. Don't just be satisfied with your current positions, understand?"
"Understood, Boss," Miller and Jones nodded in agreement.
Then Jones seemed to think of something and asked, "Then, Boss, what about the food factory? The war shows no sign of ending at the moment. If all production capacity is used to make military canned goods, then the civilian portion will be divided up by others."
Felix smiled. He was quick to think about the company's future direction, so it seemed Jones was quite good.
"Good question. It must, of course, continue to expand."
"Get the guys ready; we'll be starting our third, larger-scale expansion very soon."
----
Three days after receiving the military order, Felix and Catherine conducted their daily morning meeting, though the nature of these meetings had shifted in subtle, unmistakable ways since that night.
"Felix, regarding the patents for Iodoglycerol and canned fruits, as well as the registration documents for the new company Umbrella Corporation, I've had the lawyers expedite the process. It should be completed by this afternoon."
Felix reclined in his chair, his eyes half-closed as Catherine's skilled fingers worked the tension from his shoulders, a ritual that had begun innocently enough but now carried an intimacy that made her pulse quicken each time she touched him. "Excellent work, as always."
His hand came up to cover hers briefly, a fleeting caress disguised as gratitude. The gesture was so natural now, these small touches they stole throughout the day when no one was watching.
"Also, I've already deposited the advance payment for the pharmaceuticals into Empire Bank. President Templeton personally handled this matter, and he assured me that these funds would receive the highest priority for regulatory exemption."
"It seems Templeton is a smart man." Felix caught her hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss before releasing it, making her breath catch. "What about the factory site? Any progress?"
Catherine continued her report, though her voice had grown slightly breathless. She marveled at how he could undo her composure with the smallest gesture.
"Through President Templeton's connections, I found a perfect target."
"There's a small German-owned chemical factory in Brooklyn; its owner passed away last month from a heart attack. His widow is eager to sell the factory, along with its equipment and workers, as a package."
"I went to check it out yesterday," she added, remembering how she'd wished Felix had been there beside her, how empty even triumph felt without him to share it. "Although its equipment is somewhat old, Dr. Thorne went to see it. He said that the German-made distillation stills and mixers are very reliable. With just a few modifications, they can be used for the initial production of Iodoglycerol."
"Acquire it." Felix's decision was made without hesitation. He turned in his chair to face her directly, his eyes warm. "Speed is paramount, Catherine. You personally go and negotiate with the widow. The price can be a bit higher than the market rate, show her the compassion that bureaucrats never would. I need to see Umbrella Corporation own its first production base within a week."
"Understood." The way he looked at her when giving instructions now, with pride and affection mingled with professional respect, made her want to accomplish the impossible just to see that expression again.
After finalizing Umbrella Corporation's first "hardware," Felix shifted the topic to the more important "software" issue.
"Have the candidates for the management preparatory class been selected?"
"The selection is complete. Twelve individuals were chosen based on departmental recommendations and assessment screenings." Catherine moved around to stand beside his desk, close enough that she could catch the scent of his cologne, sandalwood and something uniquely him.
"Eight are from Supervisor Jones's production department, including Sullivan, the B-line team leader whom you personally promoted earlier. He demonstrated extremely strong organizational and leadership abilities in implementing the team competition system."
"The other four are from my office. They showed far greater logic and order than ordinary clerks when handling complex orders and financial statements."
"A very good choice," Felix said, reaching out to adjust a strand of hair that had escaped her bun. His fingers lingered at her temple. "What about the curriculum? What are your thoughts?"
Catherine's heart fluttered at his touch, though she maintained her professional composure. "My idea is that they will continue their regular daytime work, but for three evenings a week, they will need to return here for additional training courses."
"Supervisor Jones will personally explain our rhythm production method and factory management processes to them. Supervisor Miller will be responsible for teaching them discipline and security knowledge. And I will be responsible for teaching them how to understand and create clear financial statements like ours."
She looked down at him, meeting his eyes with a directness that still felt daring, even after their nights together.
"As for the most important strategic course, I think no one is more suitable than you to be their ultimate mentor."
"Don't say that, sweetheart." A slight curve appeared at the corner of his mouth, and the endearment, once shocking, now precious, made her chest tighten with emotion.
"Hmm… Give the list of twelve you've selected and the course plan to Jones and Miller. Have them start immediately today. Tell them this is the most important core project for our company in the coming years."
"Tell everyone selected that this is an opportunity the company is providing them. An opportunity to grow from ordinary workers or clerks into true managers. Those who don't seize it will be eliminated; those who do will get everything they deserve."
"What about you?" Catherine asked, tilting her head. "Will you personally teach them the strategy class?"
"Yes, of course, I will," Felix replied, pulling her gently onto his lap, a liberty he would never have taken before, and one that made her gasp softly despite her willingness. "But not now. Right now, I have something else more important to do."
Catherine grew curious, her arms instinctively circling his neck. Was there anything more important than the military contract right now?
"What is it?"
Felix looked at her, his expression softening in a way she'd learned was reserved only for her, and smiled gently.
"Catherine, we can't keep living at the factory anymore."
"Why?" Catherine was genuinely surprised. "It's very convenient here, and close to the office."
"Because our identities have changed," Felix said, his hands settling at her waist in a gesture that was both possessive and protective.
"I am no longer a small boss who needs to sleep in the factory to supervise production. You no longer need to live in a communal apartment, stealing sleep between shifts."
"I am the Chairman of Argyle Empire Bank, and the President of Argyle Foods and Umbrella Corporation."
"And you," his voice dropped to an intimate murmur that made her shiver, "are the Supervisor of the food company and my assistant."
He paused, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath stop.
"But more than that, you're mine, Catherine. And I want the world to know it, within the bounds of propriety. We need a real home," he said. "A place where we can truly be ourselves after a tiring day. A place where I can hold you without worrying about who might walk through the door. A place to entertain guests like Mr. Tilford, President Templeton, or even Senator Clark, and a place where, when they leave, it's just us."
Catherine's face flushed, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. She didn't argue, couldn't argue when he looked at her like that, as if she were something precious he'd found against all odds.
"I've already asked President Templeton to keep an eye out for me," Felix said, his thumb tracing circles on her waist through the fabric of her dress. "There are a few properties for sale on Fifth Avenue. We'll go look at houses this afternoon."
"Together?" The word came out softer than she intended.
"Together," he confirmed, pulling her closer for a kiss that started gentle but deepened with a hunger that had become familiar. "Everything together from now on, Catherine. If you'll have it, have me."
She answered by kissing him back with a fervor that spoke louder than any words.
---
When Felix's brand new private luxury carriage, pulled by four pure black steeds and bearing the Argyle crest in gold, stopped on Fifth Avenue that afternoon, Catherine more directly experienced the new world Felix spoke of.
She sat beside him in the plush interior, their thighs touching, his hand covering hers on the seat between them, small intimacies that thrilled her with their quiet declaration.
There was no coal smoke and clamor of the factory district here, nor the tension and greed of Wall Street.
Only wide, clean streets lined with elegant palace-like townhouses. Occasionally, elegantly dressed ladies walked by, leisurely strolling with their pet dogs, their skirts rustling in the autumn breeze. This was a world Catherine had glimpsed only from a distance, never imagining she might belong to it.
A real estate agent, who had been waiting for some time, respectfully stepped forward to greet them as Felix helped her down from the carriage, his hand lingering at her waist.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Argyle, Miss O'Brien." The agent's face was filled with the most professional smile. "Mr. Templeton has already briefed me. I have selected three of the best properties currently available on Fifth Avenue for you."
"No need to see three," Felix's style was as direct as ever, though his thumb was drawing absent patterns on Catherine's lower back through her dress. "Just show me the best one."
"Of course, sir." The agent immediately understood the temperament of this emerging tycoon, and perhaps also understood the nature of the relationship between the handsome young man and the beautiful woman at his side.
He led the two to a four-story Georgian-style detached villa with pure white marble exterior walls and huge floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun and made the entire structure glow like something from a fairy tale.
"Mr. Argyle, this is it," he said, gesturing expansively. "Its former owner was a cotton merchant who unfortunately lost all his Southern trade during the war. He is eager to return to Europe, which is why he reluctantly has to sell this property."
Felix said nothing, simply taking Catherine's hand in his, openly, naturally, and walking inside with her.
The high-ceilinged foyer took Catherine's breath away. The huge crystal chandelier above them scattered rainbow light across the marble floors. The spiraling teak staircase curved upward like something from a dream, and beyond, she could see the spacious living room capable of hosting a ball for hundreds of people.
Everything here matched Felix's every imagination of a "home", and exceeded Catherine's wildest dreams.
"Felix…" Catherine walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the entire Central Park lawn, the trees just beginning to turn gold with autumn. Her voice was somewhat dreamy, overwhelmed. "This… it must be very expensive."
"Sweetheart, if money can't buy us a better life," Felix came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest, "then it's meaningless."
He whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin.
"Do you like it here? Can you see us here, building a life, making memories? Can you imagine waking up here every morning, having breakfast in that dining room, reading by the fire in the evening?"
Catherine closed her eyes, letting herself imagine it, imagine them. A life that was theirs, not borrowed or stolen in moments between work. A home that wasn't just a place to sleep but a sanctuary they'd built together.
"…Yes," she breathed, resting her head back against his broad chest, feeling his heartbeat steady against her spine. "I can see it. I want it."
Felix's face showed a doting smile, the kind of unguarded happiness she'd rarely seen from him before. He turned her in his arms, right there in front of the window with the agent politely examining the molding across the room.
"Then it's yours," he said simply. "It's ours."
"But Felix, "
"No buts." He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, soft, reverent kisses that made her melt against him. "You've given me everything that matters, Catherine. Let me give you this. Let me give you the home you deserve."
Catherine's eyes stung with unexpected tears. She'd fought so hard for so long to survive, to be independent, to never need anyone. And here was this man, offering her not just security but partnership, not just comfort but love.
"Besides," Felix added with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I'm quite looking forward to christening every room."
"Felix!" Catherine gasped, blushing furiously even as she laughed and swatted his chest. But she didn't pull away from his embrace.
The agent cleared his throat delicately. "Shall I draw up the papers, Mr. Argyle?"
"Yes," Felix said, never taking his eyes from Catherine's face. "We'll take it."
As they stood there in the golden afternoon light, wrapped in each other's arms in what would soon be their home, Catherine felt something shift in her chest. This was real. They were real. And for the first time since arriving in America as a frightened girl with nothing but hope, she felt like she'd truly found where she belonged.
Not just in this beautiful house, but in Felix's arms, in the life they were building together.
----
When Felix walked out of the white villa, the real estate agent, who had been waiting nearby, immediately greeted him with a beaming smile.
"Mr. Argyle, how do you like it? This house can be said to be the most dazzling pearl on the entire Fifth Avenue."
Felix ignored his boasting and spoke directly, "What price does its owner want?"
"Well..." The agent rubbed his hands, "Mr. Ramsden's asking price is seventy-five thousand dollars."
"An irrational price." Felix shook his head, rejecting the price. "You and I both know that Mr. Ramsden is a bankrupt cotton merchant now, in urgent need of cash to return to Europe, and his creditors are circling him like vultures."
"This is a clearance sale, not an equal transaction."
Felix looked at the agent, "My offer is sixty-five thousand dollars. If he agrees, the entire transaction can be completed at my Empire Bank today."
"This is my first and last offer."
"Please tell him immediately."
The agent was left speechless by Felix's oppressive aura and irrefutable business logic.
"This, alright, I... I'll go right away."
Half an hour later, as Felix was frowning and about to return to the factory, the agent breathlessly caught up to him.
"Mr. Argyle! Mr. Ramsden, he... he agreed!"
Inside the carriage, Catherine looked at Felix, her eyes filled with a complex mix of admiration and helplessness.
"Felix," she said softly, "sometimes, you really are like someone who shows no mercy."
"I'm just a businessman who hates wasting time, my dear, and besides, the other party and I have no personal connection, do we?" Felix smiled, holding her hand.
"Alright, the house matter is settled, now it's time for our other two big tasks."
He looked at Catherine, "That house is still a magnificent shell. I need you to infuse it with soul."
"Hire the best interior designers in New York, buy the finest furniture and artwork from Europe. From every silver dinner knife in the kitchen to every hardcover book in the study. I need it to be ready to host a high-spec dinner party within a month."
"And that chemical factory in Brooklyn, I also need you to acquire it as quickly as possible. That is the starting point of our Umbrella Corporation's great journey."
"Hmm, I understand." Catherine nodded. Managing the acquisition of a new factory and the renovation of a mansion simultaneously would be a daunting task for any man. But for her, it was just her sweet daily routine...
Along the East River in New York, on the vast land recently purchased by Argyle & Co. Foods, hundreds of workers, under the direction of construction contractors, were energetically laying the foundation for the third phase of expansion.
That evening, on the second floor of the Argyle & Co. Foods's office building, a room originally used for storing archives had been completely cleared out and renovated.
It had been transformed into a bright classroom, illuminated by candlelight, with a huge blackboard and a dozen brand-new desks and chairs.
Twelve men sat upright.
Their faces all showed a complex mix of nervousness, excitement, and bewilderment.
They were the first trainees of the Argyle Management Preparatory Class.
"Sullivan."
A young clerk from Catherine's office quietly said to the production line captain next to him, "I can't believe I'm actually sitting in the same classroom as you. I heard you're a legend at the factory."
"Oh, sh*t... a f*cking legend." Sullivan, a rough man who only knew how to speak with muscles and sweat, seemed a bit flustered.
"I only know how to make the production line run faster, but here we have to learn arithmetic and writing. Only God knows it's been ten years since I last held a pen."
"What do you think the Boss is going to teach us?" another foreman asked worriedly, "Is it that we haven't done well enough somewhere?"
As they talked, the classroom door opened, and Felix walked in.
The entire classroom instantly fell silent.
All the trainees instinctively stood up, straightening their chests.
"Good evening, gentlemen, please be seated."
Felix extended his hand, pressing downwards, then continued, "Welcome to the first class of the Williams Company's Management Preparatory Class."
"The reason you are all here is because you are the twelve most outstanding individuals among the company's nearly five hundred employees."
"You work the hardest, have the sharpest minds, and are the most loyal."
"However," his tone shifted, "from today onwards, I need you to forget your past identities."
"I no longer need twelve excellent workers or outstanding clerks."
"Instead, I need twelve future managers and leaders."
"You not only need to know how to turn a screw, but also why to turn it at this time and in this manner."
He walked to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk.
"So, the first lesson is very simple."
"We are going to reacquaint ourselves with a word that all of you think you are very familiar with."
He wrote the word "Cost" on the blackboard.
"Sullivan." He called out the name of the person he was most familiar with.
"Here, Boss."
"I ask you, what are the costs of producing one can of standard red label?"
Sullivan stood up and answered without hesitation.
"Reporting, Boss. It's the cost of beef plus the cost of the iron can, plus the cost of vegetables and spices."
"Very good." Felix nodded and then looked at another clerk from Catherine's office.
"And you? You add to it."
The clerk stood up and added, "Boss, we should also add the cost of workers' wages and the cost of machine fuel."
"Also very good," Felix said, "You are all correct, but you are also all wrong."
"Because what you're talking about are only the 'visible' costs that we can see in Miss O'Brien's ledger."
He drew a horizontal line on the blackboard.
"And beneath it, there is a larger and more lethal world of 'invisible' costs hidden."
He looked at everyone, "I ask you."
"Is it a cost when a machine is forced to be idle for five minutes because raw materials were delivered five minutes late?"
"Yes." Scattered answers came from the classroom.
"Is it a cost when a batch of canned goods becomes defective due to improper sealing caused by a worker's operational error during packaging, requiring rework or even scrapping?"
"Yes." This time the voices were a bit more uniform.
"That extra square of space in the warehouse occupied due to improper stacking. The ten extra minutes Miss O'Brien spent to correct a report with wrong numbers because of your carelessness."
"All of this is cost." Felix's voice grew louder.
"Time is cost, waste is cost, rework is cost, and an unreasonable process is an even bigger black hole, silently devouring our profits."
"An excellent worker, his duty is to execute orders perfectly."
"And an excellent manager," his gaze swept across the face of every trainee, "his duty is to go into every corner of our factory and find and kill all these 'invisible' costs."
"This is your new job for the future."
These words, like a sharp axe, cleaved through the fixed mindsets of all the trainees.
For the first time, they viewed their seemingly simple daily work from a new, grand perspective.
While Felix personally cultivated brains for his business, Catherine was searching for the future factory of Umbrella Corporation.
In Brooklyn, at a chemical factory filled with German rigor and cleanliness, Catherine was engaged in a benevolent negotiation with Mrs. Schmidt, the widow of the factory owner.
"Miss O'Brien," Mrs. Schmidt, who appeared to be a very strong German woman, said in heavily accented English, "My husband loved this factory as much as he loved his own children. I don't want to see it fall into the hands of rude speculators who only know how to make money."
"I completely understand, Mrs. Schmidt." Catherine's tone was full of respect. "My Boss, Mr. Argyle, like your husband, is also a man who believes in technology and quality."
"So I've brought a sincere offer."
"We are willing to fully acquire your factory for fifteen thousand dollars."
"At the same time," she added, "we will continue to employ the loyal old workers who worked for your husband."
"We are not here to destroy your husband's hard work, madam," Catherine said, looking at her with genuine sincerity in her eyes, "We are here to give it new life in a brand new way."
This benevolent and respectful proposal filled Mrs. Schmidt's already red-rimmed eyes with comfort.
Finally, she nodded.
"Thank you, Miss O'Brien," she said hoarsely, "I believe my husband in heaven will also be pleased with my decision."
A week later, in Felix's office, Catherine was reporting her fruitful results from the past week.
"Felix, the chemical factory in Brooklyn has been successfully handed over and adjusted." She said, "I completed the acquisition for fifteen thousand dollars. And as you instructed, I provided an additional pension to that poor Mrs. Schmidt, enough for her to live out her golden years comfortably."
"Dr. Thorne and his team officially moved in yesterday. He said he is confident that small-scale trial production of Iodoglycerol can begin within a month."
"You did very well, Catherine." Felix praised her.
"And our new home." A sweet smile appeared on Catherine's face. "It's also completely ready, all the furniture is in place. I even hired a French chef."
"Then," Felix stood up, "it's time for New York's high society to get acquainted with us, their new neighbors from the East River."