London, 22 Broad Street.
A layer of thick, impenetrable yellowish-brown smog drifted over the River Thames.
In the study on the second floor of the Morgan mansion, the anthracite in the fireplace was burning bright red, but the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped to freezing point.
Junius Morgan stared fixedly at the three-page long overseas telegram that had just arrived on his desk.
"Hoo... hoo..."
A wheezing sound like an old bellows came from Old Morgan's throat.
His chest heaved violently, his right hand gripping the fabric over his heart tightly, and his gray hair, usually combed meticulously, was now somewhat disheveled.
And that face, which had maintained the rigid dignity of a banker for years, had turned iron-blue with extreme anger and shock.
The butler, Oliver, walked up quickly with brandy mixed with warm water.
"Sir, your medicine. Please take a deep breath."
Oliver's tone was filled with unconcealable worry.
Morgan shoved away the glass the butler handed him, and the glass hit the edge of the mahogany desk, splashing a few drops of brown liquor onto the telegrams printed with cipher translations.
"Look at this, Oliver. Look at what that Irish bastard from America has done!"
Morgan's voice became hoarse with anger, and he slapped the telegram paper.
"Three factories! In the same morning, all turned into ruins! The converter spindle in Ohio snapped, the chemical warehouse in Boston caught fire and exploded, and the reactor in New Jersey was blown straight to the sky! Cavendish said in the telegram that at least a dozen workers were injured at the scene, and a few people haven't even been dug out of the ruins yet!"
Morgan stood up, his vision going black for a moment due to rising too quickly, and he had to brace his hands on the desk to steady himself.
He had never expected that the Argyle Family's retaliation would come so quickly, and that the methods would be so primitive and violent.
In the financial district of London, even among the fiercest competitors, everyone resolved disputes in stock exchanges and parliamentary halls using pounds and bills.
Hiring thugs to directly destroy the other party's physical assets?
This barbaric practice was a blatant trampling on the rules of capital.
"Is he crazy?"
Morgan gritted his teeth, disbelief flashing in his eyes.
"Over a dozen casualties! With such blatant, intentional sabotage, isn't he afraid of being held accountable by the Federal Government in Washington after the matter is exposed? Does he really think America is a slaughterhouse owned by his Argyle Family?"
When Old Morgan cursed Felix for disregarding the rules, he completely and deliberately ignored one fact.
It was he himself who had first used that one million dollars in the name of the Argyle Family to support the Democratic Party, attempting to use political poison to destroy Felix's foundation in Washington.
In this war without a bottom line, it was he who had first ripped off the fig leaf.
But he didn't care.
In Old Morgan's logic, he could use any means to deal with Felix, after all, the other party had killed his heir.
But Felix must never use such barbaric methods to harm his interests.
Old Morgan walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the gray London streets outside. Before his eyes, the cold corpse of his son on that cruise ship in the Atlantic Ocean appeared once again.
John Pierpont Morgan.
The future hope of the Morgan Family, the heir he had poured all his heart's blood into cultivating. He had just died silently at the hands of an assassin sent by the Argyle Family.
"He has cut off my roots."
Morgan muttered to himself, the fury in his eyes gradually fading, replaced by a deathly silence bordering on madness.
For the past few months, he had been frantically mobilizing funds, courting European families, and launching acquisition wars in America.
He had thought that by cutting off the Argyle Family's industrial chain, he could make that young man kneel before him and beg for mercy.
But now it seemed that when dealing with a man-eating wolf, using commercial means to choke its neck would only make it bite back even more fiercely.
"Since you like to play games that involve blood, fine."
Morgan turned around and looked at the butler, Oliver.
He had nothing left to fear.
The family had no male heirs, and he had already arranged everything for his three daughters, Juliet, Mary, and Flora.
Even if Morgan Bank went bankrupt tomorrow, those secret trusts set up in Switzerland and France would be enough for them to live the rest of their lives in extreme luxury.
An old man with no worries and only the instinct for revenge left is terrifying.
"Oliver, go prepare the encrypted telegram machine."
Morgan's voice became unusually calm, so calm it was frightening.
"How much of that four million pounds in our secret account in Philadelphia remains now?"
"Back to you, Sir." Oliver swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
"After deducting the previous purchase of factories, ordering equipment, and that one million dollars in political expenses, the currently available cash on the books is about 1.2 million pounds."
"1.2 million, which is six million dollars." Morgan sneered.
"Six million dollars is enough to buy an army in America."
He walked to the desk and picked up a dip pen.
"Send a telegram to Cavendish. Since the physical assets are finished, stop worrying about those ruins. Tell him to use this money to go to Texas and the western wilderness. Go hire those desperadoes who survived the Civil War, hire those cold-blooded killers dismissed by Pinkerton."
Morgan's pen tip scratched heavily across the paper.
"Put out a bounty; I want Felix Argyle's head! Whoever can bring that bastard's head to Philadelphia can take one million pounds. I want to make him so he doesn't even dare to step out of the house in New York!"
"Sir..."
Oliver shuddered upon hearing this order.
"If an assassination against a top tycoon is launched on American soil, once it is traced back to us, the British government and Downing Street won't be able to protect us."
"Go send the telegram!" Morgan snapped, cutting off the butler.
"I don't care!"
Just as Oliver was holding the drafted telegram, preparing to leave the study and go to the basement to send it.
A noisy neighing of horses and urgent knocking on the door suddenly came from downstairs.
A few minutes later, the door of the study was pushed open unceremoniously from the outside.
Lord Richard Grosvenor, Jan Vanderbilt, and Lyons Valois.
These three partners of the European Syndicate Alliance, carrying the chill and anger from outside, broke directly into Old Morgan's private domain.
In their hands, they also held several urgent telegrams that had just been sent by their respective intelligence channels.
"Junius!"
Lyons Valois slammed the telegram in his hand directly onto Morgan's desk; the French nobleman's cultivation had vanished in the face of huge financial losses.
"Are you crazy! What kind of stupid thing have you done in America!"
The atmosphere in the study instantly became tense and ready for a confrontation.
Old Morgan looked at the three uninvited partners, waved his hand to signal the butler, Oliver, to leave first, and closed the heavy oak door behind him.
"Gentlemen, if you have come here to vent your anger over the factory shutdowns, there is no need."
Morgan walked over to the liquor cabinet, attempting to ease this oppressive standoff by pouring a drink.
"I have already received a telegram from Cavendish. Argyle' people destroyed our machines; this is an unexpected act of commercial violence."
"Ha... what the fuck kind of 'commercial violence' is that!"
Jan Vanderbilt stepped forward, snatched the bottle from Morgan's hand, and slammed it heavily onto the liquor cabinet.
The muscles on the face of this calculating Dutchman were twitching at this moment.
"Junius, we aren't idiots who have just started out in the business world! Three companies located in different states all suffering fatal 'accidents' on the very same morning? Do you think this is God, that bitch, rolling the dice?"
Jan stared into Morgan's eyes, his tone filled with the fury of having been deceived.
"Our informants in America have already sent back news. The reason Argyle suddenly went insane and resorted to such mutually destructive physical annihilation is because'someone from the Argyle Family' went to a club in Washington a few days ago, holding a one-million-dollar Imperial Bank cashier's check, and slammed the money onto the table of the Democratic National Committee!"
Jan was practically roaring.
"And that lobbyist who went to deliver the money was personally arranged by Cavendish in Philadelphia! Junius, you actually went behind our backs to use the alliance's funds to stir up political trouble between Grant and Argyle!"
Lord Richard Grosvenor also walked over, leaning on his cane, his expression terrifyingly grim.
"Junius, we agreed to keep the funds in America to capture market share in physical industry. We never agreed to let you meddle in Washington's political struggles! Don't you know how deep Argyle' roots in the Republican Party go? This clumsy political poisoning has no purpose other than to thoroughly enrage him and make him flip the entire chessboard!"
Facing the barrage of questions from the three, Old Morgan knew this matter could no longer be hidden.
The account for that one million dollars was too massive; the partners only needed to check the Philadelphia cash flow to reconcile the books.
He turned around to face these three angry allies.
"Yes, I admit it."
Morgan did not deny it, his tone remaining firm.
"I was the one who had Cavendish send that one million dollars; I wanted to make Grant suspicious of that arrogant brat. If we don't dismantle him politically, it is impossible for us to defeat a tycoon who monopolizes a small half of the country commercially."
"Fuck you motherfucker~ You are simply an unreasonable lunatic!"
Jan Vanderbilt laughed in extreme anger, pointing at his own nose.
"I just came back from America a couple of days ago! I even personally ran to Washington Square to see that stubborn distant uncle. How many good things did I say, trying to convince the Vanderbilt Family in America to join our alliance? I've been out in front gathering allies for you like an idiot!"
Jan slammed his fist onto the back of the sofa.
"And what was the result? You actually went behind my back, using funds that included my share, to do such a stupid thing that thoroughly enraged the enemy. Without even a word of warning, how much do you distrust us? Are you treating us like an ATM to provide you with ammunition!"
Jan's grievance and anger were real.
He had been playing the humble subordinate in New York, while Morgan was setting fires in Washington, which directly caused all his diplomatic efforts to become a joke. If that old brigadier general knew the Europeans were acting so recklessly, he would surely despise him to the extreme in his heart.
"Regarding this matter, the Morgan Family must give us a reasonable explanation. And absolute compensation."
Lord Richard Grosvenor tapped his cane, setting the final tone.
"Otherwise, we will apply to freeze the remaining accounts of the alliance in the London courts today."
Old Morgan took a deep breath, knowing he wouldn't get through today without bleeding a little.
"Fine. This one-million-dollar political expense will be charged to the Morgan Family personally; I will replenish the difference into the public account."
Morgan gritted his teeth and offered compensation.
"As for compensation, regarding the shares of Westinghouse Electric in Pittsburgh, I will personally concede an additional 15% of the shares I promised to your four joint ventures, to be split equally among you three."
He had thought this extremely generous condition would appease the anger of the three, but Lord Richard and Lyons exchanged glances and both shook their heads.
"Junius, do you still not understand?"
Lyons Valois spoke up.
"We don't want the Pittsburgh shares. Or rather, we do not support you continuing to run that Westinghouse Electric in America."
Morgan was stunned.
"What do you mean?"
Lord Richard walked to the desk, looking directly at Morgan.
"The meaning is simple. After this incident, we have completely seen Argyle' dominance in America. That is his home turf; he can do anything there. Today he can blow up our steel furnaces, and tomorrow he could send people to burn down the laboratory in Pittsburgh."
Lord Richard's tone was extremely firm.
"The reason he didn't touch Westinghouse Electric before is probably because Alternating Current is still stuck on blueprints and crude models, without even generating a single bit of commercial profit. He looked down on such a weak laboratory. But, we are all businessmen. We know very well that once George Westinghouse and Thomas Edison truly develop the Alternating Current motor..."
"Do you think Argyle will allow such technology, which can change the world's energy landscape, to remain in the hands of the Morgan Family?"
At this point, Lord Richard let out a cold laugh.
"I dare swear to God that on the very first day Alternating Current leaves the laboratory, he will use every means at his disposal to swallow up the entire Westinghouse Electric! Any shares we hold there will eventually turn into waste paper."
Jan Vanderbilt took over, throwing out the ultimatum the three of them had agreed upon.
"Therefore, we strongly demand that all core assets of Westinghouse Electric, including the two people, George Westinghouse and Thomas Edison, as well as all their experimental data, blueprints, and equipment, be moved immediately."
"Move them all to London!"
Jan stared at Morgan's rigid face.
"The previously agreed-upon share compensation must be changed to shares in this brand-new Westinghouse Electric company that is about to be registered in London. Furthermore, because your arbitrary actions in America led to the destruction of our industries, the Morgan Family's stake in the new London company cannot exceed 30%. This is our bottom line."
Old Morgan grabbed the edge of the desk tightly with both hands.
Move Westinghouse Electric to London?
This meant he completely abandoned the hope of making a comeback in America using the new technology.
He would be handing this brightest technological pearl of the future over to the territory of these old European nobles, allowing them to manipulate it as they pleased.
"Westinghouse and Edison are both Americans; they won't be willing to cross the Atlantic to come to a place like this."
Morgan attempted a final struggle.
"There is no scientist in this world that money cannot solve. If there is, then double it," Lyons answered coldly.
"Offer them five times the salary and build them the largest laboratory in all of Europe on the outskirts of London. If they don't come, we will withdraw our capital. Junius, you choose for yourself."
Morgan looked at these three partners with their resolute attitudes.
He knew he had no choice.
He had already lost all his chips, except for that little bit of cash in his hands. If he didn't agree, once these three families turned against him, his reputation in the City of London would also go completely bankrupt.
"Fine..."
Morgan squeezed this word out from between his teeth, as if it had drained all the strength from his body.
"I agree to move Westinghouse Electric to London; the shares will be handled as you say."
Seeing Morgan yield, the anger on the three men's faces eased slightly.
After all, compared to those bulky steel mills, technology like Alternating Current that could monopolize the future was the real fat meat they truly craved.
Moving it to London, under the patent protection of the British government and right under their noses, was the safest option.
With Old Morgan's compromise, the tension in the study temporarily subsided now that the relocation agreement for Westinghouse Electric had been reached.
Richard and the others walked over to the sofa area, sat down, and each lit a cigar, settling into silence.
Having secured the greatest benefits, they didn't mind leaving some dignity for this old friend who had just suffered a heavy blow.
Old Morgan walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself another glass of brandy.
With his back to the three partners, a gleam of extreme malice flickered in his downcast eyes.
These three fellows had taken advantage of his plight to forcibly carve away more than half of Westinghouse Electric from his hands.
He noted this debt; he would absolutely pay it back when he had the chance in the future.
But for now, he still needed to utilize them.
"Very well, gentlemen, since the matter of compensation has been settled."
Old Morgan turned around with his glass, his face adopting an expression of shared hatred against a common enemy.
"The three of you. Westinghouse Electric moving to London is a matter for the future. But are we really going to just let the humiliation we suffered in America slide?"
Old Morgan walked slowly in front of them, beginning to employ the instigation tactics he was extremely skilled at.
"The pharmaceutical plant in Boston, the blast furnaces in Ohio. Those didn't just contain the money of my Morgan Family. On those stock certificates, the names of Grosvenor, Valois, and Vanderbilt are clearly written."
Old Morgan stared at Lyons.
"Lyons, how noble your Valois family is in France. Now, an upstart from New York, without even a word of greeting, directly sent a few thugs to blow your invested factories into ruins. He is slapping your family in the face; he simply does not hold you, with your ancient European bloodlines, in any regard!"
Immediately, Morgan looked at Richard.
"And you, Richard. When have British gentlemen ever suffered such humiliation across the ocean? If he dares to bomb our factories today, he will dare to intercept your merchant ships in international trade tomorrow. If we do nothing in the face of such blatant armed destruction, then who, in foreign lands, will ever take the capital of the British Empire seriously?"
These highly inflammatory words did indeed stir a ripple in the hearts of the three men.
They were, after all, the high-and-mighty helmsmen of financial conglomerates.
They could accept losing money, but having the table flipped on them while they were playing, and being slapped in the face to boot...
This bitter pill was hard for any dignified family to swallow.
However... then again, was Old Morgan not at fault?
The three exchanged glances, engaging in an extremely subtle exchange of looks.
Everyone present was a seasoned old fox.
They certainly understood the intention behind Old Morgan saying these things at this time.
It was obvious that Old Morgan had lost his composure; this old fellow who had lost his heir was now filled with nothing but thoughts of how to kill Felix Argyle.
This old thing was currently using this matter to try and drag their three families into this life-or-death blood feud.
Richard gently tapped his cane, calculating silently in his heart.
"Is that madman Junius trying to get us to support him in carrying out assassinations in America? But the risk is too great. I am not like him; I still have a pile of sons and grandsons in the family. Since that monster Argyle dared to bomb the factories, if he is truly pushed to the edge, what if he sends hitmen to London to deal with our families? Cannot get involved!"
Jan Vanderbilt was also rapidly weighing the pros and cons in his heart.
"I have already lost money, but fortunately, I obtained Westinghouse Electric as compensation. The mess in America was something the family never intended to continue investing in anyway. But admitting defeat so ignominiously is truly shameful. However... if Junius is willing to come forward himself to play the villain and give that arrogant American kid some trouble, it seems it wouldn't be impossible to let him do it? In any case, I definitely cannot follow."
Lyons Valois's eyes were also flickering, clearly harboring similar thoughts.
"As long as the fire doesn't burn to Paris, how Old Morgan wants to go crazy is his own business. The funds are in his hands anyway; when the time comes, I'll just say it was his own idea and it has nothing to do with me."
After a few seconds of silent confrontation, the three reached a tacit understanding without needing words.
Richard coughed, breaking the silence.
"My dear Junius, we fully understand your anger. The actions of the Argyle Family have indeed broken the commercial bottom line of the civilized world. Such barbaric behavior deserves to be punished."
Richard's words sounded like support for Morgan's revenge, but then the tone shifted, extremely smoothly distancing his own family from the matter.
"However... you also know that we are, after all, legitimate businessmen. The reputation of the Grosvenor family does not allow us to be involved in any illegal... violent retaliation. Since the industries in America have already ceased operations, I have decided to temporarily freeze all public activities on that continent."
Old Morgan's brow furrowed.
Fuck, these cowards.
At this moment, Jan Vanderbilt stood up.
He straightened his suit and looked at Old Morgan. He delivered the final summary in a flat but murderous tone.
"Junius, our three families never had much of a foundation in America to begin with. Let this matter be treated as a lesson bought with money."
Jan walked to the study door, gripped the doorknob, and turned back.
"As for that remaining sum of funds we left in the secret account in Philadelphia. It is about over a million pounds, right?"
Jan looked at Old Morgan's bloodshot eyes.
"Since our cooperation has already shifted to Westinghouse Electric in London, then that sum of funds in America shall be considered a sunk cost that we have unilaterally abandoned in this strategic misstep."
A subtle, sinister smile curled the corners of Jan's mouth.
He had openly handed the murder weapon to Old Morgan, but the hilt was wiped clean, leaving none of their three families' fingerprints.
"As for how you wish to handle that money, that is an internal decision for the Morgan Family."
Jan Vanderbilt, acting as the representative of the three, delivered the final verdict.
"In any case, that money has nothing to do with us anymore."
Having said this, Jan pushed open the door.
Richard and Lyons also stood up one after another, nodded slightly to Morgan, and then filed out of the study.
The study fell silent once again.
Old Morgan stared at the closed door.
He knew that these three allies were indulging him in creating trouble while simultaneously severing any connection to the responsibility.
But Old Morgan did not care.
He turned, strode to the desk, pressed the electric bell on the table, and roared loudly.
"Oliver, come in and send the telegram. Tell Cavendish to spend all of that one million pounds; I want Argyle dead!"
The whistle of the steamships on the Hudson River was gradually left far behind.
The black bulletproof carriage drove along the flat gravel road and entered the Argyle Manor on Long Island.
The oak trees on both sides were left with only bare branches in the cold wind of early winter, but the gas lamps lit one by one along the main road of the estate illuminated this vast private territory, making it warm and tranquil.
The carriage stopped steadily in front of the steps of the main building.
Felix pushed open the carriage door and, without waiting for the manservant to come forward to assist him, stepped out himself.
He handed the document bag filled with railway freight reports from all states across America to the butler who came to greet him, and took a deep breath of the cold air on Long Island, which carried the salty tang of the sea.
There was no suffocating stench of money like on Wall Street, nor the scent of powder and perfume found in that villa on Fifth Avenue.
This was his home, the only place where he could completely shed his disguise.
Pushing open the heavy oak doors, the high-quality anthracite burning in the fireplace toasted the entire spacious foyer as if it were spring.
"Daddy!"
A crisp shout interrupted Felix as he was changing his shoes.
Six-year-old finn ran quickly down the stairs from the second floor.
The little guy had perfectly inherited Felix's well-defined jawline, and although he was still young, his eyes already revealed an unyielding wildness.
Felix laughed heartily, opened his arms to catch his son who had pounced on him, and then lifted him high above his head.
"Hey, young man! Did you give your fighting instructor any trouble at home today?"
Felix weighed finn in his hands and nodded with satisfaction.
"Not bad, very sturdy."
"I didn't cause any trouble! Lieutenant Smith praised my punches today for being very powerful, and even said that I would be able to shatter a cow's jaw with one punch in the future!"
finn waved his little fists in mid-air, his face full of pride.
"Don't listen to that old soldier's bragging; shattering a cow's jaw is a butcher's job, not something the heir to the Argyle Family should be doing."
Felix put his son down and ruffled his hair.
At this moment, the double doors were pushed open.
Catherine walked out.
She was wearing only an extremely casual, dark-colored long dress today, her hair was casually tied back, and she was holding their daughter Elizabeth, who had just turned one year old.
Seeing her lover and son playing in the foyer, this decisive female CEO of the Umbrella Pharmaceutical Company revealed an extremely soft smile on her face.
"If you keep spoiling him like this, he'll dare to tear apart Lieutenant Smith's punching bag by tomorrow."
Catherine walked forward and handed Elizabeth, who was babbling and blowing bubbles in her arms, to Felix.
Felix carefully took his daughter.
Little Elizabeth stared at her father with her large, azure blue eyes, reached out her chubby little hands, grabbed Felix's tie, and giggled.
"My little princess, you are much gentler than your brother." Felix lowered his head, kissed his daughter on her pink, tender cheek, and then turned to look at Catherine.
"The old fogies on Wall Street have calmed down a bit lately, so I had Frost cancel all my social engagements for the evening."
Felix carried his daughter toward the dining room.
"Is dinner ready? I'm hungry enough to eat a whole roasted pig."
"It's been ready for a long time."
Catherine followed beside him, casually patting finn, who was about to tug at his sister's socks.
"Go wash your hands, you little troublemaker. If I see any mud under your fingernails, don't even think about having apple pie tonight."
The family of four sat down at the long dining table.
Without those outsiders who cared about pageantry, the atmosphere of the dinner was extremely warm and casual.
On the dining table, there were sizzling ribeye steaks, creamy mashed potatoes, and fresh oysters.
Felix skillfully cut the steak, listening to finn excitedly recount his "adventure" in the manor today.
"Daddy, I found a mouse hole behind the stables today! I wanted to flush it out with water, but the groom, Junior, wouldn't let me do it; he said it would get the fodder wet." finn complained indistinctly while stuffing mashed potatoes into his mouth.
Felix swallowed the beef in his mouth, put down his knife and fork, and looked at his son.
"Junior is right, finn. You can't just look at the immediate situation when doing things. Ruining the fodder for several good horses just to catch a mouse is a very bad deal."
Felix took the opportunity to impart his business education.
"Remember, in America, if you want to deal with an enemy, you must first calculate the cost. Flushing it with water is too stupid; you could go to the kitchen and ask for a piece of spoiled cheese to place at the hole entrance. That is called solving the biggest problem with the least cost."
Catherine rolled her eyes.
"Felix, he's only six! If you teach him how to kill mice now, he might go and poison the wild cats in the manor tomorrow."
"When I was his age, I had already learned how to protect the pennies in my pocket on the streets."
Felix smiled dismissively; when he first came to this world, everywhere was dangerous.
"By the way, finn, Abraham came to see me a few days ago. He suggested that I fire those rigid tutors as soon as possible. He said that books cannot teach someone to lead a family. In a couple of years, I'll take you to see the steel mills and Wall Street, and let you see the real world where people eat people."
"Really? To the steel mills?"
finn's eyes lit up, completely ignoring his mother's warning.
"There are machines as tall as buildings there, right?"
"Taller than buildings."
Felix winked at his son.
The dinner ended in laughter.
Felix took off his suit jacket, wearing only his shirt and vest, and carrying Elizabeth, brought finn to the glass greenhouse garden at the back of the manor.
Outside, the cold wind of early winter was howling, but inside the greenhouse, it was as warm as spring, with various precious flowers blooming in competition under the warmth of the gas heating pipes.
Felix placed Elizabeth on the lawn, which was covered with a thick wool blanket, and let her crawl around using her hands and feet.
He sat in a rattan chair nearby, watching finn holding a small wooden sword, fighting with imaginary enemies among the flowers.
"Take that! You evil Englishman!"
finn slashed at a blooming rose with his sword and shouted loudly.
Felix laughed heartily; the kid must have learned these insults from listening to the guards at the manor chat.
"Well done, finn! But next time, if you aim more accurately and strike the opponent's neck directly, you can save the effort of drawing your sword."
Felix gave "tactical guidance" without hesitation.
Time passed unconsciously amidst the father and son's playing and the little daughter's babbling.
It wasn't until the wall clock struck nine that Catherine came over to announce bedtime.
"Alright, game over."
Catherine picked up the somewhat sleepy Elizabeth.
"finn, go upstairs with your maid to take a bath. If I find you've thrown wet towels on the floor again tomorrow morning, I'll deduct a week's worth of your pocket money."
"Alright, Mom."
finn reluctantly put down the wooden sword and followed the maid away, looking dejected.
Felix stood up and stretched.
He looked at Catherine's back as she carried their daughter toward the second floor, a softness revealing itself in his eyes.
In the master bedroom's fireplace, oak logs were burning brightly.
The master bedroom of Argyleburg was filled with a faint scent of cedar.
Felix leaned against the large headboard, holding half a glass of his nightcap whiskey.
Catherine had finished washing up and, wearing a dark silk robe, naturally lifted the blanket to snuggle against Felix's broad chest.
Without the pretenses of the socialite ladies outside, on this bed, they were simply partners snuggling together.
"Elizabeth slept very soundly today."
Catherine's fingers traced unconscious circles on Felix's firm chest muscles, her tone rapidly switching from her mother mode to that of the female CEO of Umbrella.
"Let's talk business." Catherine looked up.
"This afternoon, I went to the laboratory. Dr. Thorne finalized the last stabilizer formula for that new antipyretic and analgesic. I immediately had the Legal Department draft the basic patent application, which will be submitted to the patent office in Washington first thing tomorrow morning."
Felix took a sip of whiskey, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
"Has the patent office been taken care of? Once this thing is released, the profits will be large enough to make every quack in America green with envy. We cannot leave any loopholes for anyone."
"Rest assured."
A cold sneer curled the corners of Catherine's mouth.
"The director in charge of reviewing chemical and pharmaceutical patents—I had Imperial Bank approve his son's mortgage for a house in New York interest-free. He knows whose seal on this patent will secure his family's livelihood. We are not just applying for the synthesis method of salicylic acid; we have blocked all of its clinical application ratios as well."
"Well done," Felix praised.
"What about the subsequent clinical trials? If this is to be pushed to the civilian market, we cannot just rely on boasting in the newspapers; we need solid, real-life data. Just like the Iodine Glycerin in the underground boxing ring before, but it must be more formal."
At this point, Catherine's expression became serious.
"This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. Dr. Thorne needs a large number of fever and arthritis patients to conduct safety tests at different dosages. If we conduct these tests in public hospitals, not only are the procedures cumbersome, but if any side effects occur, it would be easy for competitors to seize on them and attack us in the newspapers."
Catherine straightened up and looked at Felix seriously.
"Therefore, I have decided to accelerate the construction progress of those three 'St. Vincent-Argyle United Hospital' locations. Hamilton has already secured two plots of land in Brooklyn and Queens. I have also looked at the one in Uptown Manhattan; it's not far from Central Park, and the location is excellent."
"I have already approved the funds. What about the blueprints?" Felix asked.
"For the blueprints, I found a designer who returned from Germany. After all, we are not building the kind of almshouse filled with stench and fleas. We are going to build the first batch of modern hospitals in America that implement absolute sterile isolation standards."
Ambition flashed in Catherine's eyes.
"I plan to equip each hospital with five hundred beds, separate sterilization rooms, surgical operating rooms, and our own dedicated medicine supply channels for Umbrella. Once these three hospitals are built, they will be the best clinical testing grounds for our new drugs. As for the poor people who come for treatment, as long as we waive part of their medical expenses, I think they will be very happy to sign the drug trial agreements."
"I completely agree."
Felix was very satisfied with his wife's coldness and efficiency.
"As long as you control the mortality rate and don't cause a large-scale scandal, this model will allow our new drugs to sweep the market within a few months."
The two clinked their glasses together on the bed in tacit understanding.
"The hospital matter is settled, but what comes next is the real bottomless pit for money."
Catherine placed her empty glass on the nightstand and leaned back into Felix's arms.
"Regarding the Argyle Family Charitable Foundation, the orphanages and primary/middle school system we proposed earlier. I have already had people prepare a preliminary budget."
Catherine took out a briefing paper tucked under the pillow.
"If we are to establish a dozen orphanages in various districts of New York, along with supporting primary and intermediate schools, providing free room, board, and vocational skills training, the initial investment just for buying land, building schoolhouses, and hiring teachers will require nearly 1.5 million dollars. And the subsequent annual maintenance costs will be at least around 300,000."
"The charity fund can afford this money, right?" Felix didn't even frown.
"Catherine, we must take the long view. The 1.5 million now buys us a steady stream of absolute loyalists for the next twenty years. Those children who grow up eating our bread, when they enter the family's steel mills and shipyards later, they won't easily go on strike or become machines incited by unions."
"I understand." Catherine nodded.
"I am already pushing forward with the orphanages and schools. But what gives me the biggest headache is the site selection and preparation for that 'comprehensive university' you mentioned."
Catherine sighed.
"If we build the university in downtown Manhattan, the land price is too expensive. And the environment is too noisy, not suitable for research. But if we build it in a place that is too remote, those arrogant professors probably won't want to go. Moreover, the hardware of a university is easy to handle; just spend money to buy the best microscopes and build the largest library. But academic atmosphere is not something that can be built with bricks."
Felix was silent in the darkness for a moment.
He scanned the locations of top universities from later generations in his mind.
"The site selection is not difficult," Felix spoke up.
"It doesn't need to be built in Manhattan. Go a little south of Cornell University, or near Ithaca in upstate New York. Buy up the entire plot of land with lakes and forests. Build the university like an isolated academic castle. Those who are truly engaged in scientific research actually prefer to be away from the hustle and bustle of the city."
"As for the academic atmosphere…"
A cunning smile suddenly appeared at the corners of Felix's mouth.
"This is the trump card I told you about on the phone earlier. The most important task of the foundation is not to build schools, but to establish that prize for me."
Felix turned over to lie on his side, facing Catherine, his eyes flashing with a sharp glint in the dim firelight of the fireplace.
"Those five prizes. Physics, Chemistry, Medicine, Mathematics, Peace. How is the draft of the charter coming along?"
Catherine looked at her husband's expression and couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"I've already had the Legal Department write the charter, but… Felix. Are you really sure you want to do this?"
There was a rare hint of hesitation in Catherine's voice.
"According to what you said, fifty thousand dollars for each prize. That is already an extremely exaggerated number. But the most critical thing is, you said on the phone that you want to put up five million dollars at once as a reserve fund!"
Catherine held up five fingers, her voice rising slightly.
"That is five million in cash! Not stocks or promissory notes. You are asking me to inject this money into an independent foundation committee account. Even on Wall Street, this amount of money is enough to buy two sizable railway companies."
Felix chuckled at Catherine's shocked expression and reached out to tuck a strand of hair from her forehead behind her ear.
"Listen, my dear. In this world, there is no such thing as establishing absolute authority without investment."
Felix began to patiently analyze for his wife this financial closed loop capable of hijacking the wisdom of all humanity.
"If you only put out 250,000 to award a prize for one year, those European academic titans will think you are just an upstart with a passing interest, and you might go bankrupt next year. They won't care about this prize at all."
"But, if we slam five million dollars in cash on the table."
Felix's tone became extremely overbearing.
"You tell the whole world: these five million will be used entirely to purchase the most stable United States government bonds and high-rated railway bonds from Imperial Bank. The annual risk-free interest income will be at least six percent. That is 300,000 dollars."
"We will use this 300,000 in interest to pay for the 250,000 in prize money, and the remaining 50,000 will be used to maintain the operations of the selection committee. The principal will never be touched."
Felix stared into Catherine's eyes.
"What does this mean? It means that as long as America does not fall, the Argyle Science and Peace Prize will exist forever. It will be a perpetual motion machine that lasts longer than the lifespan of any king. Those self-righteous scholars, when faced with this well-planned financial backing, will all lower their arrogant heads."
The master bedroom was deathly quiet.
Catherine stared blankly at her husband, Felix, her mind frantically calculating the figures.
A principal of five million, with interest dividends that would never be touched.
This kind of capital maneuver was unprecedented at the time.
"A bounty that never expires…" Catherine murmured to herself.
"This would certainly cause a sensation throughout the Western world very quickly."
But she quickly regained her composure from the shock and pointed out the most difficult execution hurdle in this plan.
"But Felix, we can afford the money. But how are we going to promote it? The professors at those ancient European universities don't even read American newspapers. In their eyes, America is just a cultural desert with nothing but cowboys in the West and factory smoke. If they don't even know about it, or can't be bothered to learn about this award, even if we double the prize money, it won't make a splash."
Catherine rubbed her temples, looking somewhat distressed.
"And the selection committee. You said we must invite the most authoritative figures in the cultural and scientific worlds to serve as judges to ensure the absolute impartiality and high prestige of the award. But those academicians of the Royal Society, those old men who are tenured professors at Cambridge and Oxford—why would they listen to the Argyle Family's invitation and come all this way to be our judges?"
Watching his wife's furrowed brow, Felix felt no concern; instead, he smiled dotingly.
He reached out and pulled Catherine closer, resting his chin on her hair.
"That requires some unique promotional tactics."
Felix's voice carried the ease of someone who held the world in the palm of his hand.
"We don't need to advertise in their newspapers; that's too beneath us. We need to take the high-level route."
"In the next two days, you can have the foundation commission a batch of extremely luxurious invitations. We can use pure gold for the casing, calfskin for the paper inside, and hire the best calligrapher in New York to write it in Latin. The content of the letter doesn't need any commercial jargon."
Felix's eyes glinted with cunning in the darkness.
"Just write: 'To the highest pinnacle of human wisdom. The Argyle Family, with a perpetual fund of five million dollars, hereby establishes the Crown of Science and Peace. We cordially invite you to serve as a judge to determine the future of human civilization together.'"
Catherine couldn't help but chuckle at this flowery wording.
"This sounds like you're writing to the Pope."
"Ha… that's exactly the effect I want."
Felix patted her shoulder.
"Not only that. Just sending letters isn't enough. We must utilize the Metropolitan Trading Company's channels in Europe. Have 'Echo' and those business managers take these high-profile invitations directly to the kings and prime ministers of European nations, or even to those penniless, down-and-out dukes."
"Let these politicians and nobles serve as our honorary endorsers and deliver these invitations to the desks of those scientists. In Europe, those old pedants still have to give face to the nobility."
After hearing about this massive public relations network, most of Catherine's doubts vanished.
"Then… what if they think it's too far and are unwilling to come to New York for the meeting?"
Catherine was still a bit worried about the stubbornness of those old men.
Hearing this question, Felix let out a slightly wicked laugh.
"My dear. You are a qualified businesswoman, but you still don't understand the greed of human nature well enough."
Felix's fingers tapped lightly on Catherine's shoulder.
"In this world, there is no one who cannot be bought with money. If there is, it's only because the stakes aren't high enough."
"You attach an itinerary to the invitation."
Felix delivered his unbeatable capital trump card.
"Tell those academicians of the Royal Society that as long as they agree to serve as judges, from the moment they step out of their homes, carriages, first-class ship tickets, and the most luxurious hotels along the way will all be covered by the Argyle Family foundation."
"When they arrive in New York, we will arrange for them to stay in the most top-tier estates. Not only that…"
Felix paused.
"We can also explicitly tell them that every judge who comes to New York for the final selection meeting, regardless of who wins the award, as long as they sit at that judging table, each person will receive a'selection committee travel allowance' of ten thousand dollars."
"Ten thousand dollars…"
Catherine was completely speechless.
In an era where the annual salary of an ordinary university professor might not even be one or two thousand dollars, a ten-thousand-dollar errand fee was practically smashing gold bars against their knees, forcing them to kneel.
"Those old men are human, too; they have families, and they need to buy reagents and eat high-end steaks."
Felix bluntly tore away the fig leaf of academic pretension.
"When they find out that all they have to do is come to New York for a vacation and sign a name to get money they couldn't earn in a lifetime of work, do you believe they will fight to get their names on the list of judges? They might even trample the thresholds of Cambridge and Oxford to get here!"
Felix's eyes were full of confidence.
"As soon as they take our allowance and sit in our judging seats, the authority of the Argyle Science and Peace Prize will be firmly established. After we give out the first two awards, we can then go with the flow and slowly poach those young geniuses who received our prize money, as well as those old masters who took our allowances, one by one into the Argyle University we are building."
"This is using the world's money to buy the world's talent. This is the cornerstone for a century."
The lengthy business and strategic layout concluded in Felix's highly infectious tone.
Catherine was completely won over by Felix's big-picture perspective and his audacity to throw money around.
As long as this plan is implemented, the Argyle Family's status in America will ascend directly from a mere business tycoon to a totem of civilization.
She let out a long breath, feeling the heavy burdens about the orphanage and the university that had been pressing on her heart all dissipate into thin air.
The night was already deep.
The oak log in the fireplace made a faint cracking sound.
The serious business was finished.
The tense, business-like atmosphere in the bedroom instantly faded away.
Catherine shifted to a more comfortable position in Felix's arms. She lifted her head slightly, and a look of extreme allure suddenly appeared on her beautiful face, which was usually stern and serious at the company.
Her aggressive eyes stared straight at Felix in the dim light.
Her fingers slid slowly down along Felix's pectoral muscles in a highly provocative motion.
"The five-million-dollar plan sounds truly grandiose, Felix."
Catherine's voice became husky and lazy, carrying the composure and playfulness of the true mistress of the house.
She leaned slightly toward Felix's ear, her warm breath hitting his neck, and gave him a look of great seduction.
"But…"
A dangerous curve appeared at the corner of Catherine's mouth.
"These days, as soon as you leave the Empire State Building, you run straight to that villa on Fifth Avenue."
Her fingers stopped at a certain dangerous area.
"Spending all day mixed up with those Eastern women sent by the Great Qing Empire, I really want to know…"
Catherine rolled over and pinned Felix down, looking down at him from above.
"After experiencing the exploitation of those exotic charms, my tyrant, I wonder if you still have the strength to fulfill your duties now?"