As Arthur's footsteps faded in the corridor, the office door was pushed open once again.
Frost walked in carrying a cup of freshly brewed black coffee and placed it by Felix's hand.
"Boss, Manager Gable from Universal Department Store has been waiting outside for twenty minutes," Frost reported.
"OK, please invite him in."
Felix picked up the coffee and took a sip.
Uncle Gable walked in.
Today, he wore a well-made but unpretentious gray suit and a neatly trimmed gray beard.
As the helmsman of Universal Department Store, he carried the steady and approachable air characteristic of a retail veteran.
"Good afternoon, Boss."
Gable sat down in front of the desk and took out the sales reports.
"These are the operating figures for the last quarter. The inventory turnover rates for the Universal Department Store branches in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia have reached record highs. The European clearance goods and Western agricultural products shipped by the Metropolitan Trading Company are snatched up within three days of hitting the shelves."
Felix glanced at the total profit at the bottom of the report.
"The cash flow is healthy, but the scale is still too small, Uncle Gable."
"Too small? Boss, we have the largest department store buildings in each of the three major East Coast cities. Tens of thousands of customers visit every day. Aside from Stewart and Lord & Taylor, we are already the third-largest retail terminal in America."
"Not enough, far from enough."
Felix's fingers tapped on the desk.
"With economic development, the purchasing power of big cities is exploding; one store cannot cover an entire major city. I want you to first open three in New York and two in Chicago. Open two each in Philadelphia and Boston."
Gable frowned and raised a practical difficulty.
"But... opening branches isn't hard; we have the money. However, the logistics costs are unbearable. All our goods are currently centralized by the Metropolitan Trading Company at the main warehouse in New Jersey and then distributed to the department stores in various cities."
"If we open a branch in Chicago, we'd be loading pots and pans onto trains from New Jersey and shipping them hundreds of miles to Illinois. Although the freight rates on the rail lines have internal discounts, the time cost and loss are too high. Our retail prices would be undercut by the local shops."
Felix looked at Uncle Gable.
This was exactly the core problem he wanted to solve.
"So you need to change the procurement model," Felix presented his business logic.
"Don't source all your goods on the East Coast and then ship them west. Except for the overseas bulk goods from the Metropolitan Trading Company, all other daily consumables should be sourced locally."
"For example, if Chicago needs iron pots and farm tools, don't look for blacksmiths in Pennsylvania. Go directly to Chicago and find local iron foundries. Sign ten-year exclusive distribution contracts with them."
Felix's voice became extremely authoritative.
"Tell those factory directors that Universal Department Store will buy every pot on their assembly lines. But the condition is that the quality must pass inspection, they must use the Universal Department Store trademark, and they are not allowed to supply any other shops in Chicago."
"Sell pots made in Chicago in the Chicago Universal Department Store. Put canned meat from Detroit slaughterhouses directly on the shelves of the Detroit branch. Use local supply chains to fill local department stores."
Gable understood immediately.
"Boss, you want to... completely tie those local producers to us? If they only supply us, they will go bankrupt immediately if we cancel an order. They will have completely become OEM factories for Universal Department Store."
"Exactly, this is the absolute hegemony of the retail terminal," Felix nodded.
"As long as we control the sales channels, we can reverse-control the manufacturing end. I want every factory owner in America's cities to understand that if they want to sell their products, they must go through the doors of Universal Department Store."
"Go do it. Send people early to incorporate those local factories. Plant the banner of Universal Department Store in every state capital."
Gable swallowed hard and packed up the reports.
"I understand, Boss. I'll have the procurement department head to the West and South to scout the markets immediately upon my return."
Gable stood up and left the office.
Not long after he left, Victor Fowler, the manager of the News Media Company, walked in.
Fowler looked a bit tired but was in high spirits.
The previous media war against Westinghouse Electric and Old Morgan had brought a lot of attention to the News Media Company.
"Boss."
Fowler stood respectfully in front of the desk.
"The fires of public opinion have temporarily died down. News of United Trust Bank's bankruptcy has dominated the front pages of all the newspapers these past few days. Old Morgan's reputation on Wall Street is ruined."
"Well done, Fowler," Felix said, looking at him.
"But the task of the news company isn't just temporary work. I've looked at the asset list you submitted. Our share of newspapers on the East Coast and in the Midwest is only twenty percent. That's far from enough."
Felix picked up a fountain pen and twirled it in his hand.
"You have to realize that the West is currently expanding and the South's reconstruction has entered a stable phase. So, I want you to take the money and go to Atlanta, Charleston, San Francisco, and Denver. It would be best to buy up all those local independent newspapers."
Hearing this, Fowler frowned.
"Boss, those southern newspaper offices are very stubborn. They have a strong sense of local protectionism and might not be willing to sell to New York capital. Besides, San Francisco has its own media circle."
"If they don't want to sell, then don't buy the newspaper offices," Felix stopped twirling the pen.
"Go directly and buy the upstream printing and paper mills. Acquire all the timberlands in the South and West that can produce newsprint. Take control of the ink factories."
Felix's eyes reflected a monopolistic mindset.
"After all, a newspaper office needs paper and ink to print words. Once you control the wood pulp and ink, no matter how much integrity those local newspapers have, they will have to come to you for supplies."
"Then, you'll have the final say on the price of paper. Whoever dares to criticize the Argyle Family in their newspaper will have their paper supply cut off the next day. If they are obedient, you can take a stake in them in exchange for extremely low paper prices. In a few years, the printing landscape will only have the voice of the News Media Company."
Hearing this, Fowler felt a chill down his spine, followed by a surge of ecstasy.
Fuck! This is true control.
Don't control the pen; control the paper used for writing.
"By the way—it's not just newspapers," Felix continued.
"There are also those publishing houses. Go buy out the printing rights for textbooks. Print the positive image of the Argyle Family and the scientific achievements of General Electric into those school textbooks. I want the children of this country, from the first day they learn to read, to know who is powering this nation and who is responsible for its development."
Fowler took a breath.
"This will require a massive amount of capital to throw at those timberlands and paper mills, Boss."
"Don't worry about the money. The Imperial Bank will cooperate with you. If you're short on cash, go to Templeton to withdraw it," Felix waved his hand.
"Go do it. Choke off those disobedient throats."
The hands of the brass clock pointed to five o'clock in the afternoon.
The pendulum let out five dull booms.
Felix leaned back in his chair.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his throbbing temples.
From the morning's development reports of various companies and his conversation with Carnegie, to the continuous internal strategic deployments in the afternoon.
His brain had been running at high speed.
To be honest, Felix felt exhausted.
Not physically, but an extreme mental tension.
After all, as the various enterprises under his banner grew, each side had its own difficulties and problems that needed to be handled.
This was a great test of his energy and thinking as the person at the helm.
Opening his eyes, Felix pressed the intercom.
"Frost."
A few seconds later, the secretary pushed the door open and entered.
"Boss, are there any more documents to approve?"
"No more, that's it for today."
Felix stood up and walked to the coat rack, took down his overcoat, put it on, and straightened his collar.
"Prepare the carriage and tell the security operations team to follow."
"Boss, where to? To inspect the factory or the docks?"
"To the Broadway Opera House."
Felix walked toward the door.
"I need to hear some sounds that don't require thinking."
As twilight descended upon Manhattan.
On Broadway, gas streetlights lit up one by one, casting dim yellow spots of light on the water-slicked cobblestone pavement.
The streets were heavy with traffic, the bells of horse-drawn trams intermingling with the sound of horse hooves.
This was New York's entertainment center.
Theaters, restaurants, and upscale taverns lined the streets.
A luxury four-wheeled carriage painted in dark colors stopped in front of a grand theater on Broadway.
Around the carriage, fifteen security team members in long black trench coats quickly fanned out, forming a tight security perimeter.
The hems of their trench coats bulged slightly, and their hands were always pressed against the grips of the revolvers at their waists.
Passing pedestrians and street vendors saw this display and avoided them in a panic.
Frost jumped off the carriage and pulled the door open.
Felix stepped down the steps and onto the red carpet at the theater entrance.
The theater's fat manager had received the news long ago.
He led several waiters out at a trot, sweat pouring down his face.
"Mr. Argyle, welcome to the Starlight Theater! This is our greatest honor!"
The fat manager almost bent his waist to the ground, his face covered in a fawning smile.
Felix didn't look at him and walked straight toward the theater doors.
"Is the best box on the second floor reserved?"
Frost asked from the side.
"Of course! Of course! The VIP box in the center of the second floor. It has been completely cleared, and tickets for the two adjacent boxes are not being sold to ensure Mr. Argyle' peace and quiet!"
The fat manager wiped his sweat continuously while leading the way.
Felix walked up the stairs covered in red velvet carpet.
Four security members followed behind him, while the remaining eleven were scattered throughout the theater's first-floor lobby and various exits.
Entering the VIP box on the second floor.
The interior of the box was somewhat luxuriously decorated.
Brass carved railings, deep red velvet seats, and iced champagne in the corner.
Felix sat in the main seat at the front, with Frost standing behind and to his side.
Two more security members stood guard outside the box door.
The fat manager stood at the box entrance, rubbing his hands.
"Mr. Argyle, tonight's performance is a brand new opera. From a Parisian troupe. I don't know if you need a program..."
"Get out and close the door. No one is allowed in without my permission."
Felix waved his hand, interrupting the manager's babbling.
"Yes! Yes! Please enjoy the show!"
The manager retreated as if granted a pardon and tightly closed the wooden door of the box.
The box became quiet.
Felix leaned back in the comfortable chair, his gaze fixed on the stage below.
The first-floor hall was filled with spectators.
New York's wealthy merchants, politicians, and those ladies who affected an air of culture.
They sat in the seats below, unaware that the man who controlled the city's lifeblood was sitting in the box above their heads.
The lights in the theater slowly dimmed, and the symphony orchestra in the pit began to play the overture.
The heavy red curtain slowly pulled open to both sides.
The stage was set with exquisite scenery, and specially commissioned electric lights shone on the center of the stage.
As the plot unfolded, Felix didn't pay much attention to the tenors or the lyrics of the chorus.
He only came here to empty his head and let his nerves temporarily escape from those cold numbers and contracts.
The first act ended.
The curtain fell, and the orchestra's music became soft and melodious.
A few minutes later, the curtain opened again.
The entire theater instantly fell into a dead silence; every spectator held their breath.
Felix's originally indifferent gaze also suddenly froze at this moment.
In the center of the stage stood a woman.
Amidst the gorgeous backup dancers and complex props, the spotlight was focused on her.
It was a beauty that could not be quantified with words.
Her features carried an extremely strong aggression, yet they were blended with classical elegance. Between the shifts of her gaze, all the light on the stage seemed to be absorbed by her alone.
When she opened her mouth to sing the first line of the aria.
Her voice was ethereal and pure, penetrating every corner of the theater. It was like an extremely soft knife, cutting directly into everyone's senses.
Felix sat in the box, looking at the woman standing in the halo.
Whether in his past life or this one, he had seen countless beauties.
Whether it was those beauties on TikTok, the wives of Washington politicians, or those socialites on Wall Street who tried to climb into his bed.
But the woman on the stage was definitely at the forefront.
She stood there like a pure piece of art without any impurities.
Every movement and every line of song was wantonly releasing an amazing vitality.
The audience below went completely wild.
Men stood up to applaud desperately, and women bit their handkerchiefs in jealousy.
The song ended.
The woman slightly lifted her skirt and bowed to the audience.
Her gaze inadvertently swept over that dark central box on the second floor. Although she could see nothing, she still maintained a perfect smile.
The curtain fell.
The applause was thunderous and did not stop for a long time.
In the box.
Felix still sat in the same spot.
But his finger unconsciously rubbed the armrest of the seat.
That mental fatigue from earlier had actually been dissipated quite a bit by those few minutes of singing.
Frost noticed his boss's unusual focus.
"Boss, do you need me to go backstage and have her bring the troupe's contract over?"
Frost lowered his voice and made a suggestion.
In the eyes of people like them, there was nothing that couldn't be bought.
Felix didn't answer.
He looked at the curtain that had already closed, replaying the look in the woman's eyes when she took her bow. He picked up the champagne glass on the side table, drained the cold liquid inside, and put it back.
"Truly a masterpiece..."