Mid-November, New York.
The Hudson River in late autumn was covered with a thin crust of ice, and the wind whistled as it blew through the docks.
In the top-floor office of the Argyle Empire Bank building, the fire in the fireplace was burning brightly.
Felix was sitting behind his massive desk, holding an "Orphanage Construction Plan" that had just arrived from the South.
"A budget of ten thousand dollars is a bit low. Have the charity fund add another two thousand dollars to the budget."
Felix picked up his fountain pen and scribbled a line on the document.
"Remember to buy more milk and blankets for the children. Since we want to be good people, we might as well do it right. They need to have a heart of gratitude while they're still young."
Frost took the document. "Understood, Boss. I'll pass on the instructions. Also... Mr. Vanderbilt seems to have something to discuss with you; he has already arrived in the lounge."
"Hmm? Why did this Old Lion suddenly show up? Never mind, invite him in."
Although Felix wasn't sure why Vanderbilt had come uninvited, he didn't panic. Instead, he put down his pen and adjusted his tie.
A few minutes later, the office door was pushed open.
Cornelius Vanderbilt walked in.
This once-overbearing "Commodore of the Railroads" looked somewhat exhausted at the moment. A few snowflakes clung to his overcoat, and the cane in his hand no longer struck the floor with the thunderous sound of the past.
His son, William Henry Vanderbilt, followed behind carrying a heavy briefcase. His eyes were somewhat shifty, appearing ashamed of this impending "surrender."
"Good afternoon, Commodore."
Felix didn't stand up, merely smiling and pointing to the chair opposite him.
"What wind brings you to my door? I heard you've been busy having tea with judges lately."
"Cut the nonsense, Argyle."
Vanderbilt sat down and tossed his coat aside. He pulled a cigar from his breast pocket and rolled it between his fingers.
"I lost."
The old man's voice was raspy, yet it still carried a touch of stubbornness.
"That bastard Gould won. He hid in Jersey for two months and printed six million dollars in stock. And my money... it's all turned into scrap paper. What a brilliant plan!"
"I think you should take this matter up with Gould," Felix said, feigning ignorance. "Why come to me?"
"Because only you can get him back to New York."
Vanderbilt looked up, his sharp gaze fixed on Felix.
"Felix, stop pretending. I know you had the Pennsylvania Railroad backing him from behind. Without your freight orders, the Erie Railroad would have starved to death long ago."
Felix simply smiled, neither confirming nor denying.
"You should know I'm a businessman, Commodore. The Pennsylvania Railway Company isn't mine alone; they use whoever has the cheapest freight rates."
"So, I've come to do business as well."
It was clear Vanderbilt knew Felix wouldn't admit it directly, so he gestured for his son to place the briefcase on the desk.
William Henry opened the bag and took out a thick stack of stock certificates.
"These are the Erie Railroad stocks I bought on the market not long ago," Vanderbilt said, pointing at the pile of paper.
"A total of fifty thousand shares. It cost me four million dollars at the time. Now, the market value is probably only worth one million."
"I want to sell them."
"To whom?" Felix asked.
"To the Erie Railroad Company," Vanderbilt stated. "As a condition for settlement. If Gould agrees to use company funds to buy back these shares, I will drop all lawsuits and recognize the newly printed shares as legal. And... I promise never to attempt to acquire Erie again."
Felix picked up a stock certificate and looked at it. It had been bought with cold, hard cash, but now it had been diluted into water.
"You're asking Gould to use company money to pay for your personal investment mistake," Felix remarked.
"I believe this is called... Greenmail?"
"I don't care what you call it," Vanderbilt said irritably.
"It's the only solution. Gould wants to return to New York, and I want my principal back. It's fair."
Felix, however, showed no emotional fluctuation.
"But you must know, Gould is starting to like it there. He's doing quite well in Jersey, with plenty of money and wine."
"That's why I need you."
Vanderbilt leaned forward, throwing out his real bargaining chip.
"Argyle, I know what you want."
"You said you wanted an 'orderly' railroad market."
The old man took a deep breath, as if making an extremely difficult decision.
"If this deal goes through, the New York Central Railroad is willing to join that Improvement Company rebate scheme you mentioned before."
Felix's eyes narrowed slightly.
The South Improvement Company was Standard Oil's core method for controlling the railroads.
Specifically, Standard Oil would pay the public freight rates, but the railroad companies would privately return a portion of the cash as a rebate.
What was even more ruthless was that Felix also required the railroad companies to return a portion of the freight rates paid by his competitors to Standard Oil as a rebate.
This was a blatant set of hegemonic terms.
Vanderbilt's son had previously refused, stating they would absolutely never join.
But now, this Old Lion had finally bowed his head.
"Are you sure?" Felix asked.
"You realize this means that for every barrel of oil transported from Cleveland to New York, no matter whose it is, I get a cut."
"I am very sure."
Vanderbilt responded through gritted teeth.
"As long as you help me get those millions back. And... I want half of Standard Oil's shipments to New York to be reserved for the New York Central Railroad in the future."
Felix was silent for a moment, his fingers lightly tapping on the desk.
To him, this was a perfect conclusion.
The Erie Railroad survived, but it was also saddled with heavy debt from the stock buyback. Although Gould won, he would have to rely even more on Felix in the future.
And while Vanderbilt lost some money, he saved face and cash flow, and for the sake of survival, he had tethered himself completely to the Standard Oil war wagon.
Most importantly, through this plan, Felix had gained complete control over the oil transportation lifeblood of the East Coast.
"I think I have no reason to refuse."
Felix stood up and extended his hand.
"Commodore, you've made a wise decision. Though you've lost some money, you've gained a more powerful ally."
Vanderbilt looked at the hand, hesitated for a moment, and finally shook it.
The hand covered in age spots was still strong, but it no longer possessed the dominance of days gone by.
"Tell Gould to have his checkbook ready. I'll be waiting for him in New York." Vanderbilt let go of the hand and picked up his coat.
Watching the father and son's departing figures, Felix turned around and looked out at Manhattan.
"Edward."
"Yes, Boss."
"Prepare the carriage; we're going to New Jersey." Felix straightened his cuffs.
"It's time to tell our friend Gould that he can go home. Of course... he'll need to bring a massive ransom with him."
In New Jersey, around the Taylor Hotel, the Vanguard security guards who had been patrolling changed into plain clothes.
In the second-floor dining room, a long table was covered with lobster, champagne, and steaks just delivered from New York.
Jim Fisk was still wearing that garish velvet vest, a napkin tucked into his collar, holding a massive lobster claw with greasy hands as he gnawed on it.
"To freedom!"
Fisk raised his glass and shouted at the air.
"To our great Republic of Jersey! Ha~ those New York cops still don't dare cross the river. I have to say, life right now is absolutely fantastic..."
Jay Gould, sitting opposite him, had no appetite at all.
He mechanically sliced the steak on his plate, his eyes fixed on the door.
"Stop drinking, Jim. We have serious business tonight," Gould said, frowning.
"Huh? What serious business could there be, partner?" Fisk let out a burp.
"If Mr. Argyle wants to come, let him come. Our life is so comfortable right now. Selling stocks every day and counting the money. This place is pretty good; I actually don't really want to go back."
"That's because you're stupid." Gould set down his knife and fork.
"You have to realize we've printed too much stock. Erie's share price has already dropped to $40. If we don't go back and stabilize the situation, the company will collapse sooner or later if left to those bastards on the board. Besides, I've had enough of this life in exile."
Gould was a proud man; his dream was to become the Chairman of the Board of the Erie Railroad and personally manipulate a railway empire.
It wasn't to rot away in a hotel, lost in a drunken stupor.
As the two were talking, the door was pushed open by a security guard.
Felix walked in, bringing a chill from the outside with him.
"It seems I've arrived just in time." Felix glanced at the leftovers on the table. "Is this your last supper?"
"Mr. Argyle." Gould immediately stood up and wiped his hands. "Please, have a seat. This is just Jim's extra meal."
Felix sat down, and Frost poured him a glass of wine.
"Alright, let's keep it short." Felix looked at Gould. "Vanderbilt came to see me."
Gould's hand trembled slightly.
"That old man... does he still want to fight?"
He knew that if the fight continued, although Vanderbilt would suffer heavy losses, the Erie Railroad would also become insolvent.
After all, in terms of capital, the few millions they had swindled from the Old Lion weren't nearly enough to keep fighting.
"No, he wants to settle."
Felix took a slip of paper from his pocket with several numbers written on it.
"He's expressed a willingness to drop all lawsuits, recognize the stocks you printed as legal, and promised not to acquire Erie any further. You can return to New York."
"Really?" Fisk tossed aside a lobster shell, his eyes wide. "That old fossil actually admitted defeat?"
"Of course, but there are conditions." Felix pushed the paper over.
"He demands that the Erie Railroad or you personally buy back the fifty thousand shares he holds at a price of $70 per share. That's a total of 3.5 million dollars."
"What?!" Fisk jumped up.
"The market price is only 40 right now, and he wants us to buy at 70? This is robbery! This is extortion!"
Gould picked up the paper and stared at the number, his brow furrowed.
"3.5 million... that's almost all the cash we made from these rounds of printing stock. If we give it to him, we've worked for nothing. We might even end up in the red."
"But you keep the company and become the majority shareholders," Felix said bluntly.
"And you gain legal status. Jay, do you want to hide in this fishy-smelling hotel for the rest of your life?"
Gould fell silent.
He looked out the window at the pitch-black Hudson River, the boundary between freedom and a cage.
If he didn't agree, Vanderbilt would continue the lawsuits.
Even if they couldn't be caught now, Erie's assets would be frozen long-term, and the business would slowly wither away.
If he agreed, although the money would be gone, he would become the Chairman of Erie with Felix's support. Furthermore, without the threat of Vanderbilt, he could use the railroad in his hands to do great things and realize his ambitions.
"Also," Felix added the final blow.
"Vanderbilt has already agreed to join my 'Rebate Plan.' If you refuse to settle... then in the future, all of Standard Oil's freight might go through the New York Central Railroad."
This was the fatal threat.
Gould gave a bitter smile; it seemed he had no choice at all. From the beginning, this had been a trap set by Felix.
He and Vanderbilt had fought until they were bloody, and in the end, Felix was the biggest winner. Not only did he get the rebates, but he also effectively controlled two railroad companies.
Gould picked up his glass and drained it in one gulp.
"No problem, I agree. I'll buy his shares."
"A wise choice." Felix raised his glass.
"Congratulations, Chairman Gould. Welcome back to the civilized world."
Felix set down his glass, his gaze becoming sharp.
"However... since you're going back, there's one more thing that needs to be done."
"What is it?"
"Regarding those two million in Pennsylvania Railroad convertible bonds. Since Erie's security crisis is resolved, I think... it's time to convert them into stock."
Gould's heart skipped a beat.
If those two million in debt were converted into stock, combined with what was printed earlier, Felix would effectively hold a significant portion of the Erie Railroad, at least thirty percent.
While it wasn't a controlling interest, it was enough to have a voice on the board.
Otherwise, how could Felix so easily support him into the Chairman's seat?
"No problem." Gould gritted his teeth. "It was written in the original agreement; they can be converted at any time."
"Good." Felix stood up.
"First thing tomorrow morning, I'll have someone bring the documents over. Once you've signed, you can pack your bags."
Felix walked to the door, stopped, and looked back at the still-dazed Fisk.
"By the way, Jim. When you go back to New York tomorrow, remember to buy some decent clothes. You're a director of a major company now; don't dress like some nouveau riche."
Fisk looked at his greasy vest and smiled awkwardly... The next day, a convoy of over a dozen carriages left Jersey City in a grand procession and boarded the ferry to Manhattan.
Gould sat in the lead carriage, watching the New York skyline draw closer.
His trunk was empty; the check for 3.5 million dollars had already been issued to Vanderbilt, with 1.5 million of it borrowed from the Argyle Bank.
But he had saved Erie and successfully become the Chairman of the Board.
On the other side of Manhattan, Felix stood by the window watching the ferry.
Frost stood behind him. "Boss, after this, Standard Oil will make a fortune."
"Money is secondary, Edward. What matters is that from today on, every mile of track on the East Coast serves Standard Oil."
"Whether it's a lion or a fox, in the end, they all have to pay rent to the Falconer."