Long Island, Argyle Manor.
The autumn sunlight spilled over the surface of the sea, shimmering with light.
This recently completed castle appeared exceptionally solemn and tranquil under the golden sunlight.
In the master bedroom, the heavy velvet curtains were half-drawn, blocking out the somewhat piercing light.
Catherine lay on the large four-poster bed, her face a bit pale, but her eyes shone with a soft light.
Felix sat by the bedside, tightly holding her hand. His breathing was still a bit hurried, a result of rushing all the way back from Manhattan.
"I'm fine, Felix."
Catherine said softly, her other hand stroking her husband's somewhat messy hair.
"It's just a bit of low blood sugar; the doctor is making too much of a fuss."
"No, darling, you scared me to death." Felix's voice was a bit hoarse.
In the business world, he could be ruthless, driving his opponents to jump off buildings. But here, in this room, he was just an ordinary husband.
"What's going on exactly?"
Felix turned his head to look at the family doctor standing nearby.
"Congratulations, Mr. Argyle." The doctor smiled and bowed.
"The Madam is three months pregnant. The reason she fainted was due to some anemia, combined with the exhaustion of managing the manor's renovations recently."
"Pregnant..."
Felix froze for a moment, and then a surge of immense joy welled up in his heart.
He hadn't expected Catherine to become pregnant again, following Anna; it seemed the Argyle Family would be adding two new members next year. His son or daughter and his godson/goddaughter
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but look at Catherine's lower abdomen.
Although it was still flat, it was nurturing a new life.
"Will it be a little sister?"
A tender voice came from the doorway.
Four-year-old Finn was leaning against the doorframe, only half his little head showing. He wanted to come in but was afraid of disturbing his father and mother, looking a bit timid.
"Come in, Finn." Catherine beckoned him.
The little fellow immediately ran over, laboriously climbed onto the high bed, and carefully leaned toward his mother's belly.
"Mommy, is it really a sister?" Finn asked curiously. "The butler said you're going to give me a little brother or sister."
"Maybe a sister, maybe a brother." Felix took his son into his arms. "Whichever it is, you're going to be a big brother."
"What does a big brother have to do?" Finn blinked his big eyes.
"A big brother has to protect them," Felix said seriously.
"Just like Daddy protects this family. Later, you'll teach them how to walk and read. If anyone bullies them, you have to stand in front of them."
"Of course, Daddy, I will!" Finn waved his little fist.
"I have the little gun Daddy gave me!" showing off his toy gun.
Warm laughter filled the room.
This laughter dissipated the aura of hostility Felix had brought home from Wall Street.
"Catherine, perhaps you need to rest for a while," Felix said to Catherine. "Leave the manor's affairs to the butler. Leave Umbrella Corporation's matters to your deputy. From today on, your tasks are to sleep, eat, and bask in the sun."
"But I'll turn into a pig like that," Catherine protested.
"Then you'll be the most beautiful pig in the world."
Felix kissed the back of her hand..
. After coaxing Catherine and Finn to sleep, Felix walked out of the master bedroom.
He walked through the thick-carpeted corridor to the study located in the east wing of the castle.
The style here was completely different. Dark oak bookshelves reached up to the ceiling, and a world map hung on the wall. The air was thick with the scent of cigars and leather.
Hayes, who had arrived later, was already waiting there.
"Boss, congratulations."
Hayes stood up; clearly, as a confidant, he also knew that Catherine was pregnant again.
"Thank you." Felix walked to the liquor cabinet and poured two glasses of wine. "To new life."
The two clinked glasses.
"Now that family matters are settled, let's get back to business."
Felix sat in the massive leather chair, instantly transforming back into the fearsome business godfather.
"We didn't finish earlier; how are you handling things over at Union Pacific?"
"As you know, it's a complete mess."
Hayes set down his glass and took out a report.
"After Durant was indicted, the sell-off spiraled out of control. Yesterday's closing price was $12. That's an all-time low."
"Before coming here, I contacted some institutions; some of them really can't hold on anymore. A few funds in Boston are privately looking for buyers, wanting to dump their holdings. However, they're asking for $15."
"$15?" Felix sneered. "They're dreaming; it's a buyer's market now."
"Offer them $10. Take it or leave it."
"But Boss, if we squeeze them too hard, what if Vanderbilt or Gould intercepts them?"
Hayes was a bit worried; after all, although both were busy buying back their own companies' stocks, who knew if they would intervene.
"Vanderbilt only wants to protect his New York Central Railroad right now; he's been scared witless by the Crédit Mobilier case, fearing Congress will come after him. As for Gould... he's out of money. All his funds are tied up in the Erie Railroad and gold."
Felix stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the sea outside the manor.
"So Tom, it's like having a baby."
"Huh? What?"
Hayes couldn't keep up with his Boss's jumping logic; what on earth did this have to do with having a baby?
"Ahem... I mean Catherine's pregnancy is about creating new life. And we on Wall Street are acquiring those 'dead' lives and then injecting them with new souls."
"And Union Pacific is like a dying person right now; only we can save it."
"Pass on my orders." Felix turned around, his eyes blazing.
"As I said before, initiate the 'Scavenger Plan.' Use our reserves in Europe. No matter how many sell orders are on the market, swallow them all. But do it in batches and through different accounts."
"For every dollar it drops, add another million dollars to the position."
"I want to have 51% of the voting rights in Union Pacific before the child is born."
"That is a gift for this unborn child."
Hayes looked at Felix, feeling a bit helpless. The Boss's fatherly love was truly a bit unique.
On one side was a loving father welcoming a new life, and on the other was a giant crocodile devouring enterprises.
These two personas blended perfectly in Felix.
"Alright, I think I understand. You're the Boss, after all."
Hayes put away the documents, his face full of seriousness.
"I'll make those Boston fund managers beg us to buy in tears."
"Go on."
After Hayes left, Felix sat alone in the study.
He took a photograph out of a drawer. It was sent by Anna Clark. There was only a scene of the South on the photo, with no writing.
He knew what that meant.
Anna was also in that manor, nurturing another life that would be part of the family.
Two children, two foundations.
In Felix's plan, the public business empire of the Argyle Family would be inherited by Catherine's child.
While the child born in the shadows, in the vortex of power, might have a different path.
Felix picked up a pen and wrote a line in his diary:
"September 1869. New bloodlines, new territories. This year I planted the seeds and also harvested the crops."
Outside the window, the sun slowly set, staining the sea blood-red.
That was the color of wealth.
The Grand Opera House of New York stood at the intersection of Twenty-Third Street and Eighth Avenue.
But in reality, this building was not just a theater; it was also the headquarters of the Erie Railroad Company and the lair of two men whom Wall Street called "robbers."
Jay Gould sat behind the massive mahogany desk.
He wasn't holding a pen in his hand; instead, he was tearing a piece of paper, a habit of his when thinking.
On the other side of the room, Jim Fisk lay on a velvet sofa.
Everyone knew he was a fat man, weighing over two hundred pounds, wearing a blue admiral's uniform trimmed with gold, even though he didn't even know how to row a boat.
Hanging on his chest was a massive diamond, a trophy he had won from Vanderbilt in the previous railroad war.
Fisk was devouring a plate of oysters.
"Jay, we're bleeding."
Fisk swallowed an oyster and wiped the juices from the corner of his mouth.
"To keep the Erie Railroad from that old man Vanderbilt, we bought back his shares and issued far too many watered stocks. Now the stock price is falling, and our cash flow is nearly dry. If we can't get five million dollars by next month, we'll go bankrupt."
"Of course, I know that."
Gould's voice was soft, yet it carried a chill.
"And if we go bankrupt, those investors we swindled will tear us to pieces. Prison would be the best outcome for us."
"So, what do we do?"
Fisk sat up, the sofa creaking in protest. "Print more stock? The current market can't take any more."
"No, no, I have a better idea."
Gould stood up and walked to the window.
Outside the window was the bustling scene of Manhattan, with countless people scurrying about for a few dollars.
"Let's play big; let's play with gold."
"Gold?" Fisk was taken aback.
"That's something the government controls. You know the Treasury Department's vaults are piled with a hundred million dollars in gold. If they sell, the price of gold will plummet. Didn't that happen once before? That Argyle fellow."
"It's precisely because everyone thinks that way that there's an opportunity."
Gould turned around, his eyes flashing with the look of a gambler.
"Listen, Jim. In the current circulation market, the total amount of gold is only fifteen to twenty million dollars. The rest is locked in the vaults of the Treasury Department or banks. Current export trade requires gold for settlement, and the agricultural harvest season also needs gold. If..."
Gould paused and walked over to Fisk.
"What if we find a way to swallow up that fifteen million in circulation?"
Fisk's mouth hung open.
"You want to corner the entire market? Monopolize gold?"
"Exactly. As long as we buy up all the gold on the market, those merchants who need gold to pay customs duties and those speculators shorting gold will have no choice but to come to us. Then, the price will be set by us. If we want one hundred and sixty, they'll have to pay one hundred and sixty. If we want two hundred, they'll have to pay that too."
"But the government..." Fisk hesitated.
"President Grant won't just stand by and watch. If Boutwell (the Secretary of the Treasury) orders a gold sell-off, we'll die a miserable death."
"We'll deal with that later. I have a way to handle the people around the President." Gould waved his hand. "Right now, the biggest problem isn't the government; it's another person."
"Who?"
"Felix Argyle."
Hearing that name, Fisk shuddered, and even the oysters in his hand lost their appeal.
"That guy..." Fisk muttered.
"He holds twenty percent of the Erie Railroad's shares. Moreover, it's said he has stockpiled a massive amount of physical gold in the Argyle Bank's vaults. If he suddenly sells while we're driving up the gold price... just like that time a while ago."
"Then we'd just be filling a bottomless pit," Gould finished the thought.
"His gold reserves are a mystery. Some say five million, others say ten million. If he dumps his holdings, we're finished."
"So what should we do? Get rid of him?"
Fisk helplessly made a throat-slitting gesture.
"Oh shit, you son of a bitch Fisk, don't talk nonsense; people will actually die. You know Argyle has his own intelligence and Action Departments. Don't just say anything out loud, okay? Besides, he's a donor to the Republican Party and a friend of the President. Touching him is asking for death."
Gould vented excitedly, then sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the tabletop.
"We need to make him an ally. Or at least, keep him neutral."
Gould picked up a piece of stationery and began to write.
"Invite him, tonight. The usual place, your box."
"What are you going to say to him?"
"Tell him we're bullish on gold. Test his attitude. If he's bullish too, we'll bring him in. If he's not..." Gould's pen tip tore through the paper.
"Then we'll just have to find another way."
...That evening, in a private box at the Grand Opera House.
On stage, Offenbach's operetta "La Vie Parisienne" was being performed.
The audience below was laughing at the comical plot, but in the second-floor box, the atmosphere was a bit heavy.
Felix, wearing a well-tailored black tailcoat and carrying an ivory cane, arrived on time for the appointment.
"Good evening, Mr. Argyle!"
Fisk greeted him warmly, his fat face wreathed in smiles.
"A glass of champagne? This is good stuff smuggled in from France."
"I'm not drinking lately, thank you," Felix declined flatly.
He found a seat and sat down. His gaze swept over the luxurious decorations in the box: gilded railings, silk wallpaper, and the massive leather sofa in the corner.
"This place is nice; much more comfortable than those cramped offices on Wall Street."
"If you like it, you can come anytime."
Gould sat across from him, wasting no time.
"Felix, let's not beat around the bush. You know the situation with the Erie Railroad; we currently need money to maintain stability."
"I know."
Felix nodded, his fingers rubbing the top of his cane.
"To buy back the shares from Vanderbilt, you drained your cash flow. Now the market is rumored that Erie is going to default."
"So we intend to make up for it in the gold market." Gould stared into Felix's eyes.
"We believe the current gold price is undervalued. One hundred and thirty-five dollars? No, it should be worth one hundred and forty-five, or even more."
"Oh?" Felix raised an eyebrow.
"And the reason? The government is withdrawing Greenbacks; theoretically, the gold price should fall."
"That's just theory." Gould leaned forward.
"The peak season for agricultural exports is almost here. Europe needs wheat, and we need to ship it out. But this requires gold for settlement. There isn't enough gold on the market."
"Felix, you hold a lot of gold. We want to know, in this upcoming 'bull market,' which side will you be on?"
Fisk stopped chewing, his small eyes quietly watching Felix's expression.
If Felix said he was going to sell, their plan for tonight would have to be completely scrapped.
Felix was silent for a moment; it seemed they really wanted to make a move on gold.
The soprano on stage was singing an aria, her voice sharp and high-pitched.
Felix turned to look at Gould, the man known as the "Mephistopheles of Wall Street."
"An interesting perspective," Felix finally spoke.
A faint, imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"Perhaps the future we see is the same."
The air in the box seemed to freeze for a second before it began to flow again.
"The same?"
Fisk couldn't help but repeat the words, as if he had just understood Felix's meaning; the fat on his face quivered with excitement.
"Are you saying that you're bullish too?"
Felix leaned back in his chair, appearing calm and unhurried. However, he didn't give a direct answer, instead pointing toward the stage.
"Look at that play; it seems to have been written by a Frenchman. And right now, the situation in Europe is quite chaotic."
"Bismarck is sharpening his blades in Prussia, and that old fellow Napoleon III is sitting restless in Paris. The scent of war has already drifted across the Atlantic Ocean, so... you understand, right?"
Felix's voice was steady, carrying a confidence that suggested he was in total control of the situation.
"Once war breaks out, paper currency becomes worthless scrap. Only gold is hard currency. European bankers will frantically hoard gold, which will drain liquidity from London and Paris, and in turn, affect New York."
Gould's eyes lit up; this was a macro perspective he hadn't considered.
Originally, he had only been staring at the import and export of American agricultural products, while Felix was actually watching world wars.
"So..." Gould asked tentatively.
"So, selling gold at a time like this would be a foolish move."
Felix reached his conclusion, intending to first give them a peace of mind.
"As for the gold I currently hold, I won't sell a single ounce before it reaches my target price. I won't move until the price of gold breaks one hundred and fifty at the very least."
"In fact..." Felix paused, lowering his voice.
"If the price is right, I might even buy in a little more."
"Ha!" Fisk slapped his thigh hard.
"I knew it! Mr. Argyle is the smartest man around! That means we're in the same boat!"
Gould also revealed a rare smile.
Since the biggest short-seller had turned into a potential bull, there was no one left in the market who could stop them.
"A pleasure doing business with you, Felix." Gould raised his glass. "To gold. To the Erie Railroad."
"To profit."
Felix raised his soda water and clinked glasses... Half an hour later, Felix walked out of the Grand Opera House.
The night wind outside was a bit chilly. A black carriage was parked in the shadows of the street corner.
Felix climbed into the carriage. Tom Hayes was sitting inside with a shorthand notebook on his lap.
"How did it go, Boss?" Hayes asked. "What are those two lunatics up to?"
"Just as I expected, they want to engineer a short squeeze."
Felix unbuttoned his collar, the smile on his face vanishing, replaced by cold calculation.
"They want to drive the gold price up and harvest all the short-sellers in the market. Gould actually thinks he can control everything."
"Then we..."
"They asked if I would sell." Felix sneered. "I told them I'm bullish. I said Europe is going to war."
"You were lying to them?" Hayes was somewhat surprised.
"No, I didn't lie to them at all."
Felix watched the streetlights flowing past the window.
"Europe indeed will be at war soon, and gold is indeed bullish in the long term. But I never said what would happen in the short term."
"Boss, you mean..."
"The Erie Railroad." Felix uttered the words.
"It's the throat leading to the East. Vanderbilt failed to take it because he only knew how to use brute force. Gould and Fisk control it now, turning it into their private ATM. This is obstructing my layout."
"To gain control of the Erie Railroad, we have to make them go bankrupt—completely bankrupt. They don't have enough money for their current play, so they can only borrow from banks. Their most valuable collateral is their shares in the Erie Railroad, so..."
Felix turned to Hayes, his gaze as sharp as a blade.
"Hayes, prepare the accounts. Use our offshore companies in London and Amsterdam to first buy enough gold at low levels."
"I expect that in a few days, after the loans come through, Gould will start buying gold. Let him buy then; let him drive the price up."
"When the price breaks one hundred and forty-five, I want you to start building short positions. Not just a little, but massive short positions."
Hayes was a bit worried—not for Gould's side, of course.
"But Boss, if the government doesn't sell gold, and Gould and the others manage to ignite market sentiment with their long positions, the gold price really will be pulled up to the heavens. Our margins will be wiped out."
"Trust me, the government will sell," Felix said with certainty.
"President Grant may not understand finance, but he hates speculators. Moreover, I have a channel to confirm exactly when that will happen."
"This is a two-sided game, Hayes. On the surface, I am their ally, helping them lock in supply. In reality, I am their gravedigger."
"When they've turned all their money into gold and are reveling on the edge of the cliff, we'll give them a push from behind."
"When the time comes, they'll have no choice but to cough up their Erie Railroad stocks to pay their debts. And we'll be right there at the bottom to catch them."
Hayes felt his heart racing. This was far more exciting than simply making money.
This was hunting the most vicious wolves on Wall Street.
"I think I understand." Hayes closed his notebook.
"I'll prepare the ammunition. This battle, we're going to make them spit out every bone they've swallowed."
The carriage drove toward the Argyle Building.
In this sleeping city, a massive trap had already been dug. Gould thought he had found a ladder to heaven, unaware it was a slide to hell... A few days later, the New York Gold Exchange.
This was a sanctuary for speculators, but also a graveyard. In the center of the room was a circular trading pit, surrounded by iron railings.
"Buy! 135!"
Gould's brokers were sweeping up goods like madmen.
The gold price began to move abnormally. From 132 dollars, it slowly climbed to 135 dollars.
Retail investors in the market began to follow suit. Since Gould was buying, and since the legendary Argyle hadn't sold either, it meant gold was going to rise!
Gould sat in his office, watching the ticker tape machine.
"Argyle kept his promise," Gould said to Fisk. "There haven't been any large sell orders in the market these past few days. He's helping us lock in supply."
"He's a good man!" Fisk said happily as he ate some ham. "Once we've made our money, I'm going to invite him onto my yacht."
Gould sat there without speaking.
His intuition told him things were going a bit too smoothly. So smoothly it felt like a carefully designed trap, but then he shook his head.
There was no stopping now.
His entire net worth in shares had been turned into loans, which, combined with the embezzled Erie Railroad funds, had all been converted into gold in the vaults.
He could only charge forward.
"Keep buying," Gould ordered.
"Push the price to 140 for me. I want to make those short-sellers jump off buildings."
A few blocks away, Hayes was staring at the same numbers.
"It's at 138."
Hayes spoke to the traders.
"Remember to stay quiet; don't alert them. Let this pig get a little fatter first."