Felix's housewarming dinner was the hottest topic in New York City high society that day.
The invited guests were few, but each name was enough to shake New York.
A few days before the banquet, in the new Fifth Avenue home that Catherine had already luxuriously furnished, Felix and Catherine were making the final guest list confirmation.
"Felix," Catherine said, pointing to a name on the list, her brows slightly furrowed, "Are you really going to invite him?"
That name was William Marcy Tweed.
The supreme leader of the Tammany Hall. The behind-the-scenes controller of all unions, officials, and votes in New York City. An open 'Underground King' of New York.
"Of course," Felix's reply was firm.
"But his reputation..." Catherine's tone was full of worry, "Everyone knows that he and the Tammany Hall are the root of all corruption in New York."
"That's precisely why we need him even more," Felix said. "In this city, Catherine, you can't build your own paradise without dealing with different devils."
"Of course, don't worry, I'm not going to be one of his many victims," Felix's eyes sparkled with wisdom, "I'm going to be his most powerful and most generous new partner."
"Send someone to deliver the invitation, using our luxurious carriage."
On the day of the banquet, Argyle Manor on Fifth Avenue.
It was brightly lit, as if it were daytime.
Luxurious carriages, representing New York City's highest power, continuously pulled up to the entrance.
Felix and Catherine stood side by side at the entrance, greeting each important guest.
Mr. Tilford, Bank President Templeton, Major Carter, Mr. Gable... all of Felix's business and military allies arrived as scheduled.
Young J. P. Morgan also quietly appeared alone in a corner of the banquet hall. He was like a young cheetah observing its prey, calmly scrutinizing Felix and the allies surrounding him.
And the 'Commodore' Cornelius Vanderbilt arrived at the banquet with a king-like demeanor, under the gaze of everyone.
Just when everyone thought that all the main characters of the night had arrived.
A new commotion came from the entrance again.
William Marcy Tweed arrived.
Unlike Vanderbilt, he was not overtly sharp. Although he was corpulent, his face always wore a kindly, approachable smile, like that of a friendly uncle next door.
Behind him followed several city council members and officials, also with amiable smiles.
As soon as he entered, he spoke in a resonant voice full of infectious enthusiasm.
"Oh, Mr. Argyle! My friend! Congratulations! Congratulations on your new home! You and your beautiful house are a proud new symbol of this great city of New York!"
"Mr. Tweed," Felix also smiled and went to greet him, "Your arrival has made my humble home shine."
"No, no, no, this is not a humble home," Tweed affectionately put his arm around Felix's shoulder, "This is a new monument to our New York 'American Dream'."
He looked at Felix, and in those seemingly honest small eyes, a shrewdness that only a businessman would understand flickered.
"I've heard many stories about you, young man," he said, "A self-made patriotic businessman, a generous employer who has created hundreds of jobs for our city. You are the kind of 'doer' that our Tammany Hall appreciates the most."
"Thank you for your praise, sir."
"You deserve it," Tweed's smile remained kindly, "Tammany is a servant of our city, and our sole purpose is to help talented doers like you better build our common home."
"For example," he changed the subject, "we can ensure that your factory will never be harassed by unnecessary fire or health inspections. We can also ensure that your goods at the dock will always receive priority loading and unloading. We can even ensure that city government procurement contracts will lean more towards 'reliable' local businesses like yours."
"Of course," he finally said in an intimate, almost whispered tone, "you also know. To make our vast city machine run so smoothly. It needs something else."
This was a shameless political extortion.
Felix smiled.
"I completely understand, Mr. Tweed," his reply surprised Tweed, "In fact, my company and I have always been very willing to make our due contribution to the 'smooth operation' of our city."
"Oh?" Tweed became interested.
"For example," Felix said, "my newly established Umbrella Corporation is preparing to build a brand new, modern pharmaceutical factory in Brooklyn. It will create at least two hundred new jobs for the Brooklyn district."
"I believe," Felix looked at Tweed, saying each word distinctly, "that such a major livelihood project, which can win you all the workers' votes in the entire Brooklyn district, will certainly receive your full support, and that of the Tammany Hall you lead. Am I right?"
Tweed's small eyes, hidden behind the fat, suddenly narrowed.
He looked at Felix as if he were seeing an unprecedented anomaly.
He realized that this young man in front of him was not a fat lamb waiting to be slaughtered.
But rather a fox who knew how to make an equal deal with the devil.
Felix did not directly agree to pay protection money.
Instead, he placed a future project, and the political benefits that project could bring, on the table as a higher-level 'pledge of allegiance'.
He turned a dirty extortion into a political transaction about 'cooperation and win-win'.
After a long while, a louder burst of laughter erupted from Tweed's corpulent face.
"Hahahahaha!" He clapped Felix hard on the back, "Felix, it seems I must retract my previous words! You are not a doer!"
"You are 'one of us'!"
He raised his glass to Felix.
"To our brand new partnership," he said, "Cheers!"
"Cheers."
...During the banquet, Vanderbilt found Felix.
"Kid, cooperating with that guy isn't a good thing."
Looking at the arrogant Vanderbilt, Felix shrugged, appearing indifferent.
"Sir, I'm just a businessman, and currently I don't have much interest in politics. Besides, I was going to build a factory and hire people anyway, so it doesn't really count as cooperation."
Vanderbilt was stunned for a moment, then burst into a hearty laugh, "Ha... You certainly don't look like a young man, kid, truly like a cunning little fox."
Felix smiled broadly, "I'll take that as your compliment."
After all the guests had enjoyed themselves and departed.
Catherine and Felix stood side by side on the second-floor balcony, looking at the tranquil, dark silhouette of Central Park in the distance.
"Felix," her voice was filled with an inexpressible complexity of emotions, "Vanderbilt is testing you. And that Morgan, he's also been observing you."
"And that Tweed..." She paused, "He wants to put a golden collar around your neck."
"I know," Felix looked at the city nightscape that would eventually belong to him, "And I will, in turn, put a more magnificent pair of golden handcuffs on him."
"From today, Catherine," he said, "we and Tammany, this strongest local snake of New York, are reluctantly on the same war chariot. This is a dance with the devil, and we must be very, very careful."
----
December in New York, the first snow arrived silently.
A thin layer of snow covered the vast land along the East River, also concealing the ceaseless hustle and bustle of the past two months.
The construction noise had stopped, replaced by the low hum of machines from within the new factory buildings.
Felix and Catherine walked along the central avenue of the factory district, with brand new buildings completed on both sides of the road.
"To the left is the new wing of the food factory," Catherine reported to Felix, her voice clear in the cold air.
"The building area is three times that of the old factory. It houses four brand new independent production lines, all dedicated to canned fruit production. The steam pipes and power system have all been integrated into the main boiler."
Felix nodded and looked into the distance.
At the southernmost end of the entire factory area, separated by a newly built freight transfer station and an open space, was another independent building, slightly smaller than the food factory.
"The manufacturing plant has also expanded," Catherine continued. "I followed your instructions and kept it away from the food production area, ensuring absolute safe isolation."
"How are things at the pharmaceutical factory?" Felix asked after inspecting the food factory.
"Not bad. According to Dr. Thorne, small-batch trial production has already begun."
They then went to the Umbrella Corporation factory in Brooklyn, where the scene was completely different from the food factory.
The floor was covered with white tiles, and the walls were also white. There was no scent of food in the air, only a faint smell of alcohol and chemicals.
Dr. Thorne, wearing a clean white lab coat, walked out of his new office. His hair was neatly combed, and his eyes no longer held only fanaticism, but more a sense of satisfaction and confidence.
"Boss, Miss Catherine," he greeted the two. "Welcome to Umbrella."
"Doctor, how do you feel?" Felix asked.
"Very good," Dr. Thorne replied. "The environment and equipment here have exceeded my imagination. The trial production of the first batch of 'Iodoglycerol' has been completed. Samples have been sent to Dr. Dalton's laboratory, awaiting his final evaluation report. As soon as the report is approved, we can start large-scale production at any time."
"Very good," Felix said. "I need you and your team to be prepared."
After inspecting the pharmaceutical factory, Felix and Catherine returned to the food company, where Jones and Miller were conducting a large-scale recruitment drive.
Outside the factory gates, more than a thousand job seekers who had heard the news gathered. Miller's security team, armed with live ammunition, separated the crowd and maintained order.
Jones stood on a makeshift platform, his voice booming.
"Everyone! Argyle Company needs three hundred new workers today! You will work in the new factory! The salary is six dollars a week, and the company provides one working meal!"
A commotion broke out in the crowd.
This salary and treatment were an irresistible temptation for the New York labor market, which was depressed due to the war.
"Now, line up!" Jones roared. "I don't care what you did before. Here, I only want two kinds of people. First, those who are strong and capable of work. Second, those who follow the rules and don't cause trouble."
The recruitment process was simple and efficient. Jones was responsible for observing each person's physique and mental state.
Miller, through his plainclothes operatives in the crowd, quickly screened out those with gang backgrounds or a habit of heavy drinking.
An hour later, three hundred new workers were selected.
They were led aside, where Catherine's assistant registered their information, distributed work uniforms and employee badges.
That evening, the classroom on the second floor of the office building was brightly lit.
All twelve students of the first management preparatory class were present. They wore brand new work uniforms, their faces somewhat nervous as they sat in their seats.
As the classroom door opened, Felix walked in, followed by Catherine, Jones, and Miller.
Everyone quickly stood up to greet him.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Felix began. "Please sit down."
He walked to the blackboard, looking at the twelve familiar faces.
"In the past month, you have worked at your respective posts during the day and studied here at night. Today is your graduation day."
"Graduation also means new appointments."
Felix picked up a list.
"Before announcing the appointments, I need to clarify the company's management hierarchy. Miss Catherine is the Chief Supervisor of the company, Mr. Jones is the Director of the Production Department, and Mr. Miller is the Director of the Security Department. Your future related work will report directly to them."
The entire classroom was so quiet that heartbeats could be heard.
"Now, I will announce the list of the first batch of internally promoted managers of Argyle Company."
"Sullivan."
Sullivan, the old team leader of the production line, suddenly stood up. "I'm here, Boss."
"Starting tomorrow, you will serve as the Supervisor of the Fruit Products Department of the food factory. You will manage fifty workers and two brand new production lines. Your salary will be thirteen dollars a week."
Sullivan was stunned. A supervisor at thirteen dollars a week.
This position and salary were something he had never dared to dream of before, more than double what he earned as a worker.
"Thank you... Boss..." He finally squeezed out a few words from his throat. "I... I won't let you down."
A round of applause broke out in the classroom.
Felix continued to read the list.
"Peter Jenkins."
A young clerk from Catherine's office stood up.
"Umbrella Corporation is a brand new and crucial department. Its work requires extreme rigor and meticulousness. Starting tomorrow, you will serve as the Production Supervisor of the Umbrella factory. You will collaborate directly with Dr. Thorne and report to Catherine. Your salary will be fifteen dollars a week."
This salary shocked everyone again, but they also understood the Boss's emphasis on Umbrella Corporation.
Felix continued the appointments, assigning several supervisor positions in the food factory's beef canning production department, the canning plant workshop, and the warehousing and logistics department to the outstanding graduates of the preparatory class.
Their salaries, based on the importance of the position, were set between ten and thirteen dollars a week, a significant increase, yet not exceeding the level of directors like Jones and Miller.
After the appointments were finished, Felix looked at them.
"Gentlemen, your positions have changed, and your responsibilities have also changed. Remember to create value for the company in your new roles, and to earn a more dignified life for yourselves."
That night, in Felix's office.
Catherine straightened his tie. "The factory, the workers, the managers. Felix, the cornerstones you wanted are all ready."
"Yes," Felix said, looking out the window at the brightly lit factory area, which was many times larger than before. "Our machine is complete, ready to crush anyone who dares to stand in our way."
At this moment, a knock on the door sounded. After Felix's permission, Flynn opened the door and entered.
"Boss," he handed over an urgent intelligence report.
"The Trade Association's factory in New Jersey officially started operations today, and its products have appeared in several grocery stores in the Bowery District."
"They imitated our old tin can design, priced at thirty cents."
Felix took the intelligence, looked at it, and smiled.
"Very good," he said. "Our old friends have finally learned to walk."
He looked at Catherine, "It seems it's time to send out the welcome gift I prepared for them."