Four o'clock in the afternoon.
The back door of the Grand Opera House.
This was originally a passage for actors and props, but it was now heavily guarded by over a dozen armed bodyguards.
A black carriage bearing the green crest of the Argyle Family slowly came to a halt.
When the surrounding rioters saw this crest, they subconsciously cleared a path.
Under the promotion of the newspapers, Felix was now seen as the stabilizer in this disaster—the only conscientious tycoon who hadn't participated in the speculation and had instead put up money to help the victims.
The carriage door opened, and Felix stepped out, followed by a dozen security personnel.
"Mr. Argyle."
Gould's head of security was also an Irishman; seeing Felix, he respectfully removed his hat.
"The Boss is waiting for you upstairs."
Felix nodded and, stepping over shattered glass and rotten vegetable leaves, walked into the theater that was once magnificent but now resembled a fortress.
The office was a mess.
Documents were scattered everywhere, expensive vases were smashed, and the air was thick with the smell of overnight alcohol and sweat.
Jay Gould sat behind his massive desk, looking as if he had aged ten years overnight.
His beard was a mess, and his eyes were bloodshot. Jim Fisk was slumped like a mountain of meat on the corner sofa, his eyes vacant.
"You've come."
Gould's voice was hoarse, sounding like it had been rubbed over sandpaper.
"I've come."
Felix found a chair that wasn't broken and sat down. Flynn and several security guards stood behind him.
"The view outside is quite nice," Felix said, pointing out the window.
"Thousands of people are shouting your name; that's the treatment of a big star."
"Are you here to laugh at me?" Gould stared at Felix. "Or to confirm that I'm already dead?"
"Of course not. I'm here to save you."
Felix pulled a cigar from his breast pocket, slowly clipped it, and lit it.
"Jay, you're a smart man. You should know your current situation. The Tenth National Bank has been seized, and your capital chain is broken. Erie Railroad stock is plummeting. If you can't cover the bank's margin before tomorrow morning, your shares will be forcibly auctioned."
Felix blew out a smoke ring.
"By then, you won't just lose the company; you'll go to prison for embezzlement. In there, the people you bankrupted will be very happy to teach you a lesson in life."
Gould's hand trembled slightly.
"You have a way?"
"Naturally," Felix said simply and directly.
"I have enough cash to help you pay off the bank's debts. I can even help you settle that embezzlement charge; as long as the hole is plugged, it's just 'internal lending'."
"And the conditions?" Gould asked.
There was no such thing as a free lunch, especially a Argyle lunch.
"I want the Erie Railroad."
Felix leaned forward, his gaze locked onto Gould.
"I want the Erie Railroad shares held by you and Fisk."
"Impossible!"
Fisk suddenly jumped up from the corner.
"That's our lifeblood! Without the Erie, we're nothing!"
"Sit down, Jim," Gould barked, stopping him.
Gould looked at Felix, his eyes flickering.
"If we give all the shares to you, we still have nothing. We might as well go to jail."
"No, no, no. You'll still have your lives." Felix flicked his ash.
"And I didn't say I wanted to wipe you out completely. I only want 76%, which means I'm still short 56%. Whether you trick other shareholders into selling to me or sell your own is up to you."
"If you have any shares left at the end, you can keep them. You can even stay on the board of directors."
Felix dangled the bait.
"Jay, you're an operational genius. The Erie Railroad is in your hands; although the finances are a complete mess, the operational efficiency is indeed good. I need someone to help me manage this line. Under my supervision, of course."
"I will have Hayes move into the finance department. All fund movements must pass through my signature. But in terms of operations, you're still the president."
"You mean..." Gould couldn't quite believe it, "you want me to work for you?"
"If you must understand it that way." Felix smiled. "Or you could call it being a'Senior Partner'. You have talent but no discipline. I'll give you discipline, and you make me money. It's fair, isn't it?"
"This deal—you either accept it, or..."
Felix pointed out the window.
"That crowd will probably burst in within half an hour. The police commissioner just sent me a telegram saying he can't hold them back anymore."
Gould fell silent.
This was the most difficult decision of his life.
Handing over the foundation he had seized with his own hands and becoming a lackey for his rival.
It was more painful than killing him.
But he was a pragmatist. Only by surviving would there be a chance for a comeback.
"And the price?" Gould asked. "How much do you plan to pay for my shares?"
"10 dollars per share."
"What?!" Fisk screamed.
"The current market price is still 18 dollars, and it was as high as 40 dollars before!"
"It won't be 18 tomorrow," Felix said coldly. "Once the bank starts selling tomorrow, it won't even be worth 5 dollars. 10 dollars is my friendship price to you."
Felix added very kindly,
"And it's cash. Two million dollars in cash, which can be in your account immediately."
Gould closed his eyes.
Two million.
This money was enough for him to pay off his debts and, if handled well, even keep a small portion of the company's shares. Although he lost control, he at least kept his status as a wealthy man and his freedom.
"Deal."
Gould opened his eyes, his voice sounding exhausted.
"Jay!" Fisk still wanted to say something.
"Shut up, Jim! Sign it!" Gould roared.
"If we sign, we can still go to dinner. If we don't, we'll be eating prison food."
Felix waved his hand, and Flynn took the pre-prepared transfer agreement and check from his briefcase.
The signing process was quick.
The moment Gould's trembling hand signed his name, the once-invincible 'Robber Baron' alliance completely collapsed.
The Erie Railroad, the golden artery connecting the Atlantic Ocean and the Great Lakes, was officially incorporated into the Argyle railroad empire.
"Very good."
Felix tucked away the contract and left the check on the table.
"Hayes will bring an accounting team in tomorrow. I hope the books are clean by then."
Felix stood up and walked to the door.
"By the way, Jay."
Felix stopped and looked back at the dejected figure.
"Don't play with gold in the future. That stuff is too heavy; you can't hold onto it."
With that, Felix pushed open the door and strode out.
Outside, the bodyguards were still tense. But Felix knew the storm was over.
He walked out of the Grand Opera House.
When the rioters outside saw him, they again cleared a path, and some even tipped their hats in respect.
"Mr. Argyle! Did you drive that bastard away?" someone shouted.
"No," Felix replied with a smile, "I just taught him how to follow the rules."
The carriage started moving.
Felix leaned back against the seat, looking at the heavy equity transfer document in his hand.
The Gold War was over.
He had not only made a massive profit but also secured a vital strategic foothold.
Now, the railroad network under his command, connecting the West to the East, was fully linked.
October 1869, North Shore of Long Island.
The Atlantic Ocean sea breeze swept across this land that had just been redefined.
This was no longer a desolate sand dune or a place for fishermen to dry their nets.
It would become the new power center of the United States of America.
A convoy of twenty black carriages moved slowly along a newly paved gravel road. Oak trees transplanted from the South lined both sides, each spaced with surgical precision.
Every carriage bore the fearsome family crest.
Security personnel on tall horses flanked the convoy, watching the surroundings with vigilance.
They wore uniform deep blue uniforms, with the latest revolvers produced by Vanguard Military Industry holstered at their waists.
These were no ordinary guards; they were the Shadow Troops directly under the "Argyle Executive Committee."
Inside the modified bulletproof carriage in the center, Felix Argyle held the hands of Catherine and Finn.
"So this is our home from now on?"
Catherine looked through the thick glass window at the cluster of buildings gleaming in the sunlight.
It was a massive castle.
The entire structure was built in a Neoclassical style, with exterior walls made entirely of white granite shipped from Vermont.
The main building stood four stories high and boasted over a hundred rooms.
The massive dome reflected the sunlight, appearing like a replica of the Capitol Building in Washington.
It was perhaps even more grand.
"That's right. We came to see it together before, Catherine," Felix corrected. "And it is also our children's domain."
Four-year-old little Finn Argyle sat opposite his parents.
Dressed in a miniature gentleman's suit, he didn't fidget like an ordinary child. Instead, he kept his eyes wide, quietly observing the palace that would one day belong to him.
"Papa, is it bigger than the White House?" Finn asked, pointing out the window.
"Yes, it is," Felix said, patting his son's head.
"Furthermore, the person living in the White House changes every four years. The people living here will always be named Argyle."
The carriage passed through a five-meter-high wrought-iron gate.
The gate opened slowly, the sound of metal grinding heavy and powerful.
A team of butlers and servants, two hundred in total, had been waiting for a long time, lined up in front of the building.
Besides the servants, there was a group in black suits. They were members of the "Executive Committee," the core management of the Argyle Empire.
Edward Frost stood at the front, holding a stack of documents. Behind him were Miller, Jones, as well as Tom Hayes, William Coleman, and several other committee directors and company presidents.
The carriage came to a halt.
A servant opened the door and rolled out a red carpet.
Felix stepped out first, then carefully helped the pregnant Catherine down.
"Welcome home, Sir. Welcome home, Madam."
The greetings of two hundred people were perfectly synchronized, their voices echoing across the plaza.
Catherine took in the scene before her.
As the president of Umbrella Corporation, she was used to giving orders.
But at this moment, facing this building that symbolized the pinnacle of the family's power, she still felt a flicker of awe.
"Come, let's go inside and take a look," Felix said, taking her hand.
Entering the hall, the first thing that caught the eye was the twenty-meter-high atrium. The floors were paved with marble imported from Italy, and the walls were adorned with oil paintings sourced from Europe. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, every crystal finely polished.
But the most eye-catching feature wasn't the luxurious decor.
In the very center of the hall stood a massive globe.
This was no ordinary globe; it was marked with different colors representing the industrial map of the Argyle Family.
Red for railroad lines, black for oil pipelines, gray for steel mills, and blue for shipping routes.
"This isn't just a place to sleep," Felix said, pointing to the East Wing.
"That side is the living area. There are over a hundred guest rooms, a banquet hall that can hold three hundred people, and an indoor heated pool using our latest boiler heating technology."
"The West Wing is the office area. It has telegraph rooms with direct lines to Wall Street and Washington, meeting rooms for the Executive Committee, and an underground vault."
"Frost," Felix called out.
"Here, Boss," Frost immediately stepped forward.
"How is the security system?"
"As per your request, this is a fortress," Frost reported.
"There are three lines of defense around the estate. The first is the perimeter wall and patrols. The second is observation posts hidden in the bushes. The third is the security center inside the main building."
"All windows use specialized glass from Lex Steel Company. There's a water purification system (Umbrella technology). Even if besieged by an army, this place can hold out for three months."
Felix nodded.
After experiencing Lincoln's assassination and countless commercial shadow wars, he had a near-pathological obsession with security.
"Take Finn to his room. We need to have a brief meeting," Felix instructed the nanny.
Finn obediently followed the nanny away, not forgetting to nod to the uncles like a little adult before leaving.
Catherine went to rest accompanied by the head housekeeper; being pregnant, she needed a nap.
Only the men who controlled the economic lifeblood of America remained in the hall.
"Let's go to the study in the West Wing."
After speaking, Felix strode toward the area marked with "Strictly No Entry" signs.
The study was large, with bookshelves on three walls and a massive mahogany table in the center.
Felix sat at the head of the table. Hayes, Coleman, and Frost took their seats in order.
"This place is nice," Hayes said, looking around.
"It's quieter than that building on Wall Street. Good for thinking about how to divide the money."
"How is the integration of the Erie Railroad going?" Felix asked directly after lighting a cigar, skipping the pleasantries.
"Very smoothly."
Hayes immediately shifted into work mode, pulling out a report.
"Gould might be a bastard, but he did manage the railroad well. Since our people moved in, they've been cleaning up that tangled mess of finances. It's estimated that by next year, the Erie Railroad will contribute nearly a million dollars in net profit."
"Not bad," Felix said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
"What about the Pennsylvania Railroad? Any news from Matthew Becker? And what does Vanderbilt of the New York Central Railroad have to say?"
"Becker is very obedient; you are still the chairman of the Pennsylvania Railroad board," Frost replied.
"And since we took over the Erie Railroad, Vanderbilt has completely fallen in line. Now, we basically have the final say on freight rates to the East."
"And oil?" Felix looked at Peter Jenkins.
"The pipelines are being laid," Jenkins reported.
"Rockefeller is doing a fantastic job in Ohio. He's trying to swallow up the last few scattered refineries. Once this pipeline connects to New York, we can reduce the transport cost per barrel to half that of the railroad. By then, no one will be able to compete with us."
Felix listened to the reports.
Every sentence represented the livelihoods of thousands of workers and the flow of millions of dollars.
He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside was the Long Island Sound, with busy shipping lanes in the distance.
"Gentlemen."
Felix turned around, his gaze sweeping over these loyal retainers.
"This estate is more than just my home. It is the throne of the Argyle Empire."
"From this day forward, every command issued from here will change the course of this nation."
"So, Frost, prepare the invitations."
"Invitations?" Frost was taken aback. "For whom?"
"Of course, for everyone."
A domineering smile appeared on the corner of Felix's mouth.
"We're going to host the ball of the century."
"Let those so-called 'old money' types, those self-righteous European aristocrats, and the politicians in Washington come here and see for themselves."
"Let them see who the real master of America is."