If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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However, Javier, Karen, Sean, Sadie, Molly, and Tilly all expressed a strong desire to have their own houses. They wanted a taste of true independence, eager to explore the city and build their own lives while remaining firmly under the protective umbrella of the syndicate. Hearing the division, Karen leaned forward, a mischievous, highly humorous grin crossing her face. She looked directly at John.
"You know, John," Karen suggested, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Rather than renting those extra floors out to complete strangers who might complain about the noise... you could just rent them out to us. Better yet, you could just give them to us for free!"
The table erupted into a fresh round of genuine, uproarious laughter.
"Don't push your luck, Karen!" John laughed, shaking his head in good spirits, while Abigail smiled brightly, immediately agreeing that having their friends living in the same building would be wonderful.
The entire scene played out flawlessly, feeling like a completely natural, deeply human family discussion about the future, home, and belonging. Caleb sat back, his arm resting on the back of Mary-Beth's chair, watching the people he cared about talked about the next path of their futures.
As the dinner finally concluded and the gang dispersed to the parlors and their respective rooms, the warmth of the evening began to fade from Caleb's mind, instantly replaced by the cold, calculating, and ruthlessly ambitious gears of the Thorne Holding Company.
Caleb kissed Mary-Beth's cheek, excusing himself, and walked purposefully up the grand staircase to his private study on the second floor.
The room was quiet, smelling of leather bindings and expensive cigars. He walked over to his massive mahogany desk, pouring himself a single finger of aged bourbon. He pulled the bell cord on the wall.
Less than a minute later, a soft knock sounded at the door, and Antonio stepped into the study.
"You requested my presence, Don Thorne?" Antonio asked, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.
"I did," Caleb murmured, turning to face his butler, the amber liquid swirling in his crystal glass. He leaned against the edge of the desk, his blue eyes sharp and focused. "Tell me, Antonio... have you ever heard of the inventor, Edison? Alva Edison, perhaps?"
Caleb intentionally used the slightly incorrect name, testing the butler's knowledge of the northern industrialists.
Antonio paused, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. "Do you mean Thomas Edison, sir? The man in the newspapers from New Jersey?"
"Thomas. Yes, precisely," Caleb nodded, gently correcting the flow of the conversation without missing a beat.
"I have, of course, heard of him," Antonio responded smoothly. "It is thanks to Mr. Edison's commercialization efforts that electricity has become much easier to access, and that the electric lamps illuminating this very mansion exist today. A brilliant businessman, by all accounts."
"He is a businessman," Caleb agreed, his tone hinting at a deep, underlying disdain for Edison's ruthless monopolistic practices. "But tell me, Antonio... have you ever heard of a man named Nikola Tesla?"
Antonio frowned, genuinely drawing a blank. He slowly shook his head. "I cannot say that I have, sir. The name does not ring familiar in the societal circles of Saint Denis. Why do you ask?"
Caleb set his glass down on the mahogany desk, his posture straightening as he began to outline a vision that would fundamentally alter the technological trajectory of the American continent.
"I want to meet this man," Caleb explained, his voice a low, vibrating hum of pure ambition. "He is currently operating in New York. And I have been thinking... Mary-Beth and I have not yet taken our official honeymoon. I believe a trip to New York would be incredibly fitting. And during that trip, I will use the opportunity to meet Tesla personally and invite him to come south, to work exclusively for me."
Antonio's eyes widened slightly, thoroughly surprised by the sudden, massive scope of the idea.
"New York, Don Thorne?" Antonio asked, his professional mask slipping just enough to reveal his genuine concern. He stepped forward, lowering his voice. "Sir, if I may... that journey is incredibly long. It takes several days by train to reach New York from Lemoyne. But more importantly, New York is not like Saint Denis. It is a labyrinth."
Antonio's mind raced with the intelligence reports he routinely gathered.
"The city is practically overrun with numerous, deeply entrenched crime syndicates," Antonio warned him earnestly. "Tammany Hall controls the politics, and the remnants of the Five Points gangs, the Eastman Gang, and the waterfront mobs control the streets. It is an incredibly dangerous environment. If you travel there, you must bring a veritable army of men with you. We would absolutely not want you and Madam Thorne to be targeted by any of those factions, especially considering the possibility of your rising national profile."
Caleb listened to the warning, his expression remaining completely, terrifyingly calm. He gave a slow, deliberate nod, assuring Antonio that he completely understood the risks.
"I am well aware of the rats that run New York, Antonio," Caleb said, his voice cold and uncompromising. "I will bring Vincenzo, Silvio, Arthur, John, Javier, Bill, and enough heavily armed capos to level a city block if necessary. No one will dare touch Mary-Beth."
Caleb turned his gaze toward the massive window, looking out at the distant, glittering electric lights of Saint Denis.
"But I will not just be bringing protection," Caleb revealed, his visionary ambition bleeding into his words. "I may use this opportunity to establish a permanent foothold there. I want to expand our influence beyond the South."
Caleb turned back to Antonio, his eyes burning with the knowledge of a past life, a terrifying intuition for the decades to come.
"I have a feeling, Antonio, that New York is going to become a very, very important focal point in this country's future," Caleb declared, his voice carrying the weight of prophecy. "It is the gateway for capital and industry. If I move early enough, if I establish a presence there now, I can position the Thorne Holding Company leagues ahead of absolutely everyone else."
He tapped his finger against the mahogany desk, emphasizing the true prize.
"And Tesla is the key," Caleb stated. "Edison wants to sell lightbulbs. Tesla wants to wirelessly power the entire globe. He is chronically underfunded, brilliant, and desperate. If I bring him to Saint Denis, give him a blank check, and let Pierre patent his genius... we will not just participate in the coming of a new century, Antonio. We will own it."
The butler stared at the billionaire Don, a profound, chilling sense of awe washing over him. The ambition of Caleb Thorne was not limited by borders, by laws, or by rival gangs. It was an insatiable, visionary drive for total, absolute control.
"I will begin making the travel arrangements immediately, Don Thorne," Antonio bowed deeply, fully understanding that the empire was about to take its greatest leap forward. "New York will not know what hit them."
The heavy oak door clicked shut as Antonio took his leave, the soft sound echoing in the cavernous quiet of the study. Caleb remained standing by the massive window for a long moment, staring out at the distant, glittering electric lights of Saint Denis.
The gears in his intelligent mind were already turning at a blinding speed. New York was not merely a city, it was the financial beating heart of the world, a colossal, concrete labyrinth where fortunes were forged and broken before breakfast.
Caleb turned away from the glass, walking back to his mahogany desk. He set his bourbon aside and pulled open the heavy center drawer, withdrawing a fresh, leather bound ledger and a silver fountain pen.
He sat down, uncapping the pen, and began making a highly detailed, methodical list of everything he needed to prepare for the monumental trip north.
This was not a passing thought or a whimsical vacation, this was a serious, deeply calculated corporate invasion. He needed to think through the practical matters one by one, anticipating every possible friction point before they ever crossed the Mason-Dixon line.
First, he listed the personnel. He wrote down the names with sharp, precise strokes, Vincenzo, Silvio, Arthur, John, Javier, Bill. It was a perfect blend of the syndicate's absolute best. Vincenzo and Silvio understood the complex, ruthless etiquette of urban mafia warfare, while Arthur, John, Javier, and Bill possessed the raw, untamed lethality required if things devolved into a shooting war.
He would also need a dozen of his most elite, heavily armed capos to form an impenetrable perimeter around Mary-Beth and himself.
Next, he considered the logistics. He noted the need to charter a reinforced, private Pullman train, completely restocked with medical supplies, high grade ammunition, and cases of the new Thorne-Marlin 'Apex' Scout rifles. He also wrote down a staggering figure for liquid capital, he would need hundreds of thousands of dollars in untraceable bearer bonds and unmarked cash. In New York, money didn't just talk, it commanded armies.
But Caleb knew that if he truly wanted to establish a permanent, unshakable foothold in New York, he could not rely entirely on money and armed confidence. The situation there was vastly different from the Southern charm and blatant corruption of Saint Denis.
New York was run by Tammany Hall, a deeply entrenched, highly organized political machine that possessed its own ruthless ecosystem. If he went in blind and started throwing money at Nikola Tesla, he would instantly be targeted by Thomas Edison's corporate thugs, the local aldermen, and the Five Points gangs.
He needed high level political connections to smooth the waters before his arrival.
Caleb's pen hovered over the parchment. He wrote the name Senator Pendleton.
Pendleton now become a big shot in Washington, all owed thanks Caleb's financial backing and the systematic dismantling of his rivals. Caleb decided he would summon the Senator back to Saint Denis.
He needed Pendleton to reach out to his federal counterparts, a sympathetic senator or a highly placed Tammany official in New York, someone who could be quietly bought to ensure the Thorne Holding Company was granted immediate, unhindered access to the city's industrial zones.
Because of the knowledge he possessed from his past life, Caleb had a terrifyingly clear understanding of what New York was about to become. He knew which districts would boom, which industries would fail, and precisely how dangerous the sprawling metropolis could be. This strategic, deliberate planning session was the work of a man who was inherently several steps ahead of his contemporaries.
Satisfied that the initial logistical framework was locked in place, Caleb closed the ledger. He wiped the ink from his pen, turned off the brass desk lamp, and quietly exited the study.
He walked through the silent, carpeted hallways of the mansion, the heavy burden of his corporate ambitions slowly beginning to lift from his shoulders as he approached the master suite.
When he gently pushed the bedroom door open, the room was bathed in the soft, dying amber glow of the stone fireplace. Caleb stepped inside, his eyes immediately finding Mary-Beth. She was already asleep, lying peacefully amidst the heavy white down quilts, her dark hair spilling like spilled ink across the silk pillowcases.
Seeing her like that, so incredibly beautiful, serene, and entirely safe, softened his mood immediately. The cold, calculating CEO of the underworld vanished, entirely replaced by a man hopelessly, profoundly in love. He stood at the edge of the bed for a moment, looking down at his wife with a gentle, incredibly warm smile.
Careful not to wake her, Caleb retreated to the attached washroom. He washed the soot and the lingering cigar smoke from his skin with warm water, changing into clean, comfortable sleepwear.
When he finally slid into the massive bed beside her, Mary-Beth stirred slightly in her sleep, instinctively gravitating toward his warmth. She rested her head against his chest, letting out a soft, contented sigh. Caleb wrapped his arm securely around her waist, pulling her close. The scene was quiet, deeply tender, and incredibly intimate. Surrounded by the absolute safety of the empire he had built for her, Caleb closed his eyes and fell into a restful, dreamless sleep.
When Caleb woke the next morning, the room was still shrouded in the cool, grey light of the pre dawn hour. The sun had not yet crested the horizon, but as he reached his arm across the mattress, he found the space beside him empty.
He blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and sat up.
A soft, scratching sound caught his attention. He looked across the room. Mary-Beth was awake, sitting in a plush velvet chair beside the large bay windows.
She had wrapped herself in a thick, woolen shawl to ward off the early morning chill, a single candle burning steadily on the small table beside her. She was bent over a thick, leather-bound notebook, her pen flying across the pages with a frantic, beautiful intensity.
The moment felt incredibly natural and deeply lovely. It was a perfect glimpse into her creativity and the rich, private world she cultivated within her own mind.
Caleb smiled, throwing the quilts aside and stepping quietly across the thick Persian rug. He came up behind her chair, wrapping his strong arms gently around her shoulders from behind. He pressed a warm, lingering kiss to the top of her head.
"Good morning, Mrs. Thorne," Caleb murmured, his voice a low, sleep rough rumble.
Mary-Beth gasped softly, startled for a fraction of a second, before she leaned her head back against his chest, a bright, radiant smile breaking across her face.
"Good morning, my love," Mary-Beth returned the greeting warmly, reaching up to cover his hands with her own.
"You are up awfully early," Caleb noted, looking over her shoulder at the pages filled with her elegant, flowing script. "Couldn't sleep?"
"I had the most incredible surge of inspiration the moment I woke up," Mary-Beth explained, her eyes shining with genuine excitement as she looked down at her work. "I am charting out something massive, Caleb. A sprawling, historical epic. I've been researching the old European nobility, the complex socioeconomic systems they used to govern, even the specific agricultural practices of the commoners. I want it to feel entirely real, a world that people can completely lose themselves in. I'm structuring it to be published serially, chapter by chapter, in the newspapers. I feel like I could write a thousand parts to it before the story is truly finished."
Caleb chuckled, his heart swelling with pride at her brilliant, boundless ambition. "A thousand chapters? I pity the poor printing presses in Saint Denis. They won't be able to keep up with you."
Mary-Beth laughed, a sweet, melodic sound in the quiet room. "I just didn't want to lose the thread of the story before breakfast."
"Write as much as you desire, sweetheart," Caleb promised softly, kissing her cheek. He gently pulled up another chair, sitting beside her. "But speaking of grand, sprawling adventures... I wanted to talk to you about our honeymoon."
Mary-Beth stopped writing, carefully capping her pen and placing it on the table. She turned her full attention to him, her dark eyes reflecting the candlelight. "Our honeymoon?"
"I have a plan," Caleb began, taking her hands in his. "I want to take you to New York."
Mary-Beth's eyes widened slightly in surprise. New York was the absolute epicenter of the modern world, a glittering, chaotic metropolis of soaring steel and endless possibilities.
"However," Caleb continued, wanting to be entirely transparent with her from the very beginning, "I must confess that the trip is not solely for our honeymoon. There are some highly specific important matters I need to attend to while we are there. But I want to make an absolute, unbreakable promise to you right now, the business and our personal time will be strictly, entirely separated. When we are enjoying our honeymoon, when I am with you, I will not let a single piece of business, or a single associate, interfere with us."
Mary-Beth looked at him, her expression calm, observant, and filled with a profound, unwavering trust. She didn't look upset in the slightest, she knew exactly the kind of man she had married. The empire never truly slept, but his devotion to her was absolute.
"What kind of business do you have in New York, Caleb?" she asked softly, making it clear that she was more than happy to follow his lead.
Caleb took a breath, explaining the broader, visionary reason behind the trip.
"There is a man currently living in the city," Caleb told her, his voice vibrating with quiet intensity. "His name is Nikola Tesla. He is one of the most brilliant but misunderstood inventors in current time in my opinion He understands electricity in a way that no one else on this planet does. Right now, he is underfunded, struggling, and being actively suppressed by his rivals. I want to meet him. I want to bring him into our family, completely fund his research, and give him the freedom to change the world. Because if I can secure his mind, Mary-Beth... we won't just be wealthy. We will dictate the technological future of this entire country."
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 2,772 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 283,392 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -