Crossing the vast Atlantic Ocean.
United States of America, New York.
Inside Felix's office on the top floor of the Empire State Building, it was warm as spring.
The heavy velvet curtains were half-drawn, and the morning sunlight of Manhattan slanted across the massive mahogany desk.
Felix held a cup of black coffee, his eyes calmly scrutinizing the encrypted telegram that had just been dispatched from Washington, D.C.
The telegram was sent personally by the Chief of Staff to President Ulysses S. Grant.
"...Regarding the proposal for the 'Federal Public Servant Retirement Guarantee Fund,' the legal assessment has passed behind closed doors within Congress. Two conservative justices of the Supreme Court have privately indicated that entrusting this fund to a private financial institution with national credibility does not violate the Constitution of the United States. The obstacles to the capital pool structure have been cleared."
Felix looked at these lines, a satisfied smirk curling the corners of his mouth.
"It's done."
He muttered to himself, flicking the telegram paper lightly.
This was a major strategic move he had been planning for a long time.
In 1871, a time when there was not even a minimum wage guarantee for workers, he had proactively pitched this massive plan, which appeared to be filled with "humanistic care" and "progressivism," to President Grant.
It was ostensibly to ensure that postmen, customs officials, clerks, and police officers who had served the country their entire lives would not starve on the streets in their old age.
But in reality?
This was an incredibly terrifying financial lever.
Hundreds of thousands of federal public servants across America would be forced to have a portion of their monthly salary deducted and deposited into this fund, and the government would also contribute funds proportionally.
This money was absolutely not allowed to be touched before the public servants retired.
What did this mean? It meant that tens of millions of dollars in interest-free capital would continuously flow into this capital pool every year.
And as for the sole designated custodian institution for this capital pool, besides the Imperial Bank that he controlled, who else in the entire United States had the capacity to handle it?
This money would also be used to invest in his own publicly listed railway companies, used to increase his own influence.
"Old Morgan is racking his brains in London to scrape together millions of pounds to fight a war of attrition with me."
Felix took a sip from his coffee cup, his eyes revealing absolute dominance.
"Once this bill is enacted, the entire payroll of the Federal Government of America will become an endless ATM in my hands. What does he have to fight me with?"
The latter half of the telegram contained President Grant's extremely pragmatic political demands.
"...With the midterm elections approaching, the Democratic Party is launching fierce offensives in the southern states, accusing the cabinet of corruption. Mr. President urgently needs a major political achievement that can stabilize the Union Army veterans and the federal civil service system. We hope you, Felix, will utilize your media resources to build momentum in advance and guide public opinion."
Felix put down the telegram and reached out to ring the brass bell on the desk.
This was a quid pro quo.
Grant handed the treasury's cash flow to him for custody, so he had to be responsible for helping Grant get re-elected and securing the Republican Party's majority in the Capitol Building.
The door was pushed open.
Secretary Edward Frost walked in.
"Boss, what are your orders?"
"Go notify Fowler, the general manager of the News Media Company."
"Tell him to drop those trivial paper mill acquisitions on hand and rush back to New York immediately. Have him utilize our twelve core major newspapers in Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia, and New York within a week. At the same time, open a column on the front page."
Felix began to orchestrate a nationwide media storm.
"The main tone of the articles must be unified; do not talk about finance or funds. Just talk about 'the nation's gratitude to its contributors.' Go interview those destitute old postmen, write about the miserable state of those who were injured in the Civil War and are now working as lame clerks in customs after retiring. Maximize the emotional impact."
"Then, roll out President Grant's 'Retirement Guarantee Plan.' We must portray the President as a great leader who would rather bear the infamy of a treasury deficit than fail to protect the bedrock of America. We must let all public servants in America know that only by voting for Grant will their bread and milk in their old age be guaranteed."
Frost quickly recorded these instructions in his notepad.
He could feel the terrifying control his boss displayed in this political maneuvering.
"Boss, this is equivalent to tying the votes of hundreds of thousands of public servants and their families directly to this fund. The Democratic Party will definitely attack it fiercely as a money-grabbing scam."
Frost reminded him kindly.
"Then let them attack."
Felix smiled disdainfully.
To be honest, the current Democratic Party is really just a stray dog on the side of the road.
"What are those newspapers Fowler runs in the South for? Have the southern newspapers publish articles accusing the northern government of abusing taxes to support idlers."
Stir up North-South conflict.
As long as the Democratic Party dares to oppose it, they are smashing the rice bowls of hundreds of thousands of federal employees. When the time comes, we won't need to lift a finger; those who fear losing their pensions will drown the Democratic Party candidates with their votes.
Felix leaned back in his leather chair, as if he could already see those desperate Democratic congressmen in the Capitol Building a few months later.
"That is the beauty of democracy, Edward. Voters never care about the truth; they only care about the promissory notes that put a few more dollars in their pockets every month."
"I understand, Boss. I will immediately send an urgent telegram to Mr. Fowler, and the news network will be fully operational soon."
Frost closed his notepad and prepared to turn and leave.
"Go." Felix waved his hand.
Just as Frost's hand touched the doorknob.
A low, rhythmic sound of footsteps suddenly came from outside the office door.
The security personnel outside seemed to have encountered a situation that was difficult to handle.
Frost opened the door and poked his head out.
A few seconds later, Frost's expression became extremely subtle.
He turned around to face Felix again, his tone carrying a rare solemnity.
"Boss."
Felix frowned.
On the top floor of the Empire State Building, rarely could anyone make Frost show such an expression.
"What is it? Who is causing trouble outside?"
Felix asked displeasedly.
"No one is causing trouble, Boss."
Frost stepped slightly to the side.
"It is the family's special advisor... Mr. Lincoln. He did not have an appointment and passed directly through the highest-level security channel downstairs. He is outside the door now and must have something urgent to discuss with you."
Felix's hand holding the coffee cup froze in mid-air.
Family advisor Lincoln.
In this era, the person who could be kept by the Argyle Family with such status and have the privilege of entering the top floor of the Empire State Building directly.
There was only one.
Abraham Lincoln.
"Why is he here? Never mind, please show him in."
The heavy oak door of the office was pushed open.
A tall, thin man with a signature short beard walked in.
Although he was only wearing an extremely ordinary dark suit, those deep eyes still radiated wisdom.
Abraham Lincoln.
The former President of the United States of America, now an advisor to the Argyle Family.
Felix immediately strode out from behind his desk, his face full of undisguised enthusiasm.
He walked quickly to Lincoln and gave the giant who had saved the Federal Government a solid hug.
"Abraham, I really didn't expect to see you here." Felix let go and looked Lincoln up and down.
"You should have sent a telegram in advance. If you had told me sooner, I would have at least prepared a proper welcome ceremony, and we would have had a banquet at the Long Island estate this evening."
Lincoln smiled, that smile carrying a touch of rustic, easy-going charm.
"Oh, my friend Felix. You know I hate those occasions where people wear wigs and hold wine glasses while talking nonsense in a banquet hall. Coming to New York this time was purely because I suddenly wanted to see you and, by the way, say thank you in person."
Lincoln sat down on the leather sofa in the reception area, placing his somewhat worn top hat on his knees.
"Thanks? We don't need that word between us."
Felix walked over to the opposite sofa and sat down.
"No, I must say it."
Lincoln waved his hand, his tone becoming somewhat sentimental.
"I've been recuperating at my old home in Illinois for the past two years. To be honest, you know about Mary's spending habits. She still thinks we live in The White House in Washington and doesn't even blink when buying things. If it weren't for the tens of thousands of dollars in consulting fees you deposit into my account on time every year, this retired old man would have been forced by creditors to sell newspapers on the street long ago."
Felix laughed.
Mary Todd Lincoln's extravagance was legendary in Washington.
"That is what you deserve, Abraham. Your brain is worth more than all of Wall Street combined."
"But taking money for nothing isn't my style."
Lincoln placed his top hat on the coffee table beside him, leaned forward slightly, and his eyes became serious.
"I've been fishing in the countryside for two years, and my health has recovered quite well. Since I've taken your money, I must fulfill my duties as Chief Advisor."
The two began to chat like old friends.
The conversation naturally turned to family and children.
"Finn is six years old this year, right?" Lincoln asked.
"Yes, he just celebrated his birthday in Long Island a few days ago."
Felix nodded, his brows slightly furrowed.
"Speaking of which, I was just looking for your advice. He's reached the age where he should start studying seriously. I previously found three private tutors for him in New York. One teaches basic mathematics, one teaches history, and there is a retired officer responsible for teaching him fighting and horseback riding."
Felix poured two glasses of water and handed one to Lincoln.
"But I always feel it's not enough. These three teachers only teach dead knowledge, and they don't even dare to speak too harshly in front of Finn. Damn it, I don't want to raise my heir into a hothouse flower who only knows how to recite books."
Lincoln took the glass, took a sip, and nodded thoughtfully.
"Your concern is valid, Felix. Books cannot teach someone how to lead a business empire. When I was a lawyer in Illinois, I saw too many young masters fresh out of prestigious schools. They were full of Latin and legal jargon, but when they got to court, facing those foul-mouthed farmers and cunning businessmen, they couldn't even complete a sentence."
Lincoln put down the glass and offered his advice.
"Dismiss that history teacher. History is written by the victors; just let Finn read European history books himself. You need to find him a teacher who truly understands 'people'."
"Understands people?"
"Yes. Let him learn how to see through others' lies, and how to judge a person's greed and fear."
"Don't lock him up in the Long Island estate. When he's a bit older, take him to the factories and let him see how workers sweat in front of the furnaces for a few dollars. You can also take him to the trading floor of Wall Street and let him see how those people in suits bite each other like wild beasts. Those are the true textbooks of America."
Felix listened to Lincoln's words and inwardly agreed.
This President, who started from the bottom splitting rail fences, truly had an extremely profound understanding of human nature and society.
"I will seriously consider it. Let him encounter the real world you speak of as early as possible."
Felix took these words to heart.
The two chatted for a few more minutes about the recent situation of Lincoln's eldest son, Robert, working as a lawyer in Chicago.
Suddenly, Lincoln changed the subject.
The easy-going, relaxed look on his face vanished, replaced by a sharp political acumen.
"Felix. Besides thanking you, there is actually one more thing I came to New York for." Lincoln looked straight into Felix's eyes.
"A few days ago, some of my old subordinates from Washington came to Illinois to see me. They mentioned a bill that Congress is secretly pushing forward."
"It seems to be the 'Federal Public Servant Retirement Security Fund' bill."
Felix's eyes shifted slightly.
He knew the main event had arrived.
"Are they complaining about something?" Felix asked.
"You could say that. They say the politicians in Washington are reaching into their already thin wallets." Lincoln leaned back against the sofa.
"Let me ask you directly, Felix. This plan to forcibly centralize the pensions of hundreds of thousands of public servants and hand them over to financial institutions for custody—was it proposed by you to President Ulysses S. Grant?"
Felix did not hide it and nodded readily.
"It was proposed by me. You know, President Ulysses S. Grant needs a political achievement that can win votes in the midterm elections."
Lincoln let out a deep sigh.
He looked at this young and ambitious oligarch in front of him.
"Felix, you are too impatient."
Lincoln's tone became extremely serious.
"Have you ever considered that the foundation of this plan is unstable? You and President Ulysses S. Grant think this is a benefit, but the people below might not necessarily think so."
Lincoln began to analyze the fatal flaws of this plan layer by layer.
"I know the Imperial Bank has promised to provide the Federal Government with a three-million-dollar interest-free loan as the starting capital for the fund. But how many years can this three million last? For this fund to continue operating, the core is that a portion of money must be forcibly deducted from the salaries of public servants every month."
Lincoln stared at Felix.
"Go ask those low-level clerks who deliver mail at the post office or stamp documents at the customs office. Are they willing to have money deducted every month?"
"They are currently earning meager salaries and still have to support a whole family. You tell them that this money is being deducted and will be paid to them when they retire at sixty. Will they believe it? In America, money promised by this administration might be reneged on by the next administration at any time. They only trust the greenbacks they can actually hold in their hands every month."
Felix frowned and retorted.
"Abraham. If there is no forced savings, when they are old and can no longer work, they won't even have money to buy bread. The Federal Government is helping them find a way out."
"A way out?" Lincoln shook his head.
"But you are mistaken about one thing. In Washington, the high-ranking officials who truly have power don't worry about life after retirement at all. While in office, they have long used their power to open companies and run factories for their families, or become lobbyists for big enterprises to secure their own way out. They don't need this fund."
"And the low-level clerks who really need this fund cannot afford to have this money deducted to maintain their current lives. If they are pushed too hard, this won't be a political achievement to win votes; it will be a powder keg that forces them to revolt."
But this was not the ultimate purpose of Lincoln's visit to New York this time.
A brief silence fell over the office.
Lincoln watched Felix's slightly furrowed brow, knowing that he had taken his words to heart.
"That is not even the most fatal part."
Lincoln's voice grew deeper, carrying the resignation of one who had seen through the political quagmire of Washington.
"Felix, you treat this as a business deal. But Grant treats it as a political bargaining chip; I know him too well."
Lincoln mentioned the general who had once won the Civil War under his command, his tone somewhat complex.
"He is a soldier. On the battlefield, sacrificing a few regiments of soldiers to hold a defensive line to protect the commander's position was a daily routine for him. Now that he is in the political arena, this habit of his has not changed at all."
Lincoln leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on his knees.
"If this retirement fund turns into a mess, if low-level public servants erupt in protests because their wages are withheld, or if it even leads to the Republican Party losing votes in the midterm elections—guess what Grant will do?"
Felix shrugged, "Perhaps... he will push all the responsibility onto the Imperial Bank. He will say that I, a greedy capitalist from Wall Street, deceived the cabinet."
"Exactly." Lincoln nodded.
"He will not hesitate to throw you out to bear the wrath of tens of thousands of people. He will publicly condemn you in the newspapers, and even use the Department of Justice to raid the accounts of the Imperial Bank, all to appease public anger and preserve his own reputation."
Lincoln's gaze became extremely sharp.
"You must understand your situation, Felix. The Argyle Family is indeed a behemoth now, but your foundation is too concentrated. You can certainly command the wind and rain in your stronghold of New York, and in major cities like Philadelphia and Chicago. But in the vast South and the agricultural states of the Midwest, your reputation is not very good. I fear the Democratic Party will seize the opportunity to stir up trouble."
"Once Washington splashes dirty water on you, you won't even have enough media ground to refute it. You will be drowned by the spittle of all of America."
Lincoln said earnestly.
"So you must be careful in handling this retirement fund, and more importantly, you must be careful with Grant."
Lincoln lowered his voice.
"Do you really think Grant is comfortable in The White House watching you grow stronger day by day? He lets you take arms contracts and build railroads only because he cannot do without your money for the time being. But no president wants to see an uncontrollable 'invisible emperor' emerge in their country."
Lincoln mentioned the commercial war that had been raging fiercely recently.
"You see it very clearly; Old Morgan has united with British capital to wage a total war against you in steel and military industry. Cavendish and his ilk are buying up bankrupt factories all over America. With such large-scale foreign capital movement, would the Department of the Treasury in Washington not know? Would Grant not know?"
Lincoln let out a mocking chuckle.
"But he plays deaf and dumb, even giving the green light to the approval of certain acquisitions. What does this mean? It means that deep down, Grant hopes to see you bitten by British capital. He hopes to see you both suffer mutual destruction. He needs a strong Argyle to boost the economy, but he does not need a Argyle that can stand above Washington."
This extremely insightful political analysis tore away the veil of the hypocritical alliance between Washington and the Argyle Family.
Felix sat on the sofa, his fingers gently rubbing the rim of his water glass.
Of course, he knew that Grant could not be relied upon.
This could be seen from the previous United Credit Bank.
He also knew of the deep-seated fear Grant held for the Argyle Family.
The fact that Old Morgan's funds could enter America so smoothly clearly had the tacit permission of The White House.
"I understand these things, Abraham." Felix nodded.
"But as long as the retirement fund money enters the Imperial Bank's accounts, I can guarantee that it will absolutely not suffer losses in investments. As long as we can conjure up more money on the books, those protesting voices can be suppressed with dividends."
Felix looked at Lincoln, his face showing gratitude.
"But your warning is correct. Grant is a politician, and a politician's alliance is cheaper than a whore's vow. I will rearrange the lobbying network in Washington and keep a close watch on the people around him. If he wants to stab me in the back, I will ensure he doesn't even get the chance to walk out of The White House."
Lincoln saw the ruthlessness in Felix's eyes and knew that this young man had completely sorted out the stakes.
His purpose for coming today had been achieved.
The two sat in silence for a while.
Felix suddenly spoke up, throwing out a proposal.
"Abraham. Since you see things so clearly, I wonder if you would be interested in managing this retirement fund?"
Felix looked at Lincoln extremely seriously.
"I would like to invite you to come out of retirement and replace the previous candidate to serve as the first chairman of the 'Federal Public Servants Retirement Security Fund'."
"With your prestige as a former president and your reputation among the common people, as long as you sit in that position, no public servant in all of America would dare to question the legitimacy of this fund."
"This way, even if Grant wants to pass the buck, he wouldn't dare splash dirty water on you. The Imperial Bank's capital pool, combined with your absolute prestige—this is an impregnable defense."
As he spoke, Felix laid out the terms.
"The salary will be absolutely satisfactory. As long as you nod, this appointment letter will be sent to Congress tomorrow."
This was a condition sufficient to tempt any politician.
Controlling one of the largest cash pools in all of America.
But Lincoln did not even hesitate for a second, simply waving his hand to refuse.
"Forget it, Felix. Don't put my old bones on the fire to roast."
Lincoln picked up his top hat from the coffee table, stood up, and smiled.
"I already feel that the tens of thousands in consulting fees you give me every year are too hot to handle; you still want me to manage the pensions of hundreds of thousands of public servants? If Mary knew I was sitting next to a mountain of gold, she would immediately run to New York and buy an entire street."
"Besides, I am a former president after all. To go and be a chairman in a foundation established under the Department of the Treasury, and to work for the current president? That is politically too unsightly. Those who don't know might think I have gone bankrupt and am begging Grant for a handout."
Lincoln looked at Felix, revealing an elder's smile.
"I will not participate in this muddy water. Since you have already decided to take on this task, the previous candidate will do just fine."
Seeing that Lincoln's attitude was firm, Felix did not press further, stood up, extended his hand, and shook hands with Lincoln firmly once again.
"Regardless, today's words have been very valuable for reference."
"The door is always open for you, Abraham. If you get tired of staying in Illinois, come to New York anytime."
"I will. You be careful yourself, especially when dealing with those British folks. Don't let them think America has soft bones. I'll be going now, see you next time."
Lincoln put on his top hat, turned around, and walked toward the office door.
Felix walked to the door personally and instructed the security captain outside.
"Send two carriages and select ten of the most capable men to safely escort Mr. Lincoln to the train station. If any mishaps occur on the way, you need not come back."
"Yes, boss." The security captain immediately accepted the order.
Lincoln waved his hand and disappeared at the end of the corridor with the security personnel.
Felix returned to his desk.
Lincoln's warning circled in his mind.
It seems that the line in Washington indeed needs to be reinforced.
But the urgent priority right now is not the politicians in Washington. It is to chop off the tentacles that Old Morgan has extended into America, one by one.
The blocking war for steel and military industry has fully begun.
And on the pharmaceutical front, that hunting ground belonging to Catherine should also see some blood.
Inside the president's office on the top floor of the Umbrella Pharmaceutical Company headquarters building.
Catherine sat behind a massive semi-circular desk.
Today, she wore a dark blue silk suit, free of any superfluous lace decorations, and her hair was pinned up meticulously.
Standing in front of the desk were three men in suits.
They were the procurement director, the chief lawyer of the Legal Department, and the head of the marketing department of Umbrella.
"Have you found out about the situation over there?"
Catherine's voice carried not a hint of emotion.
Hoffman, the procurement director, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and hurriedly opened the briefing in his hand.
"We have, President. In the past three days, the accounts of both the 'Sterling Chemical Brotherhood' in Boston and 'Apotech United Pharmaceuticals' in New Jersey have suddenly seen an influx of massive liquid capital, with sources pointing to some shell investment companies in Philadelphia."
"Yesterday, they already bought out full pages in local newspapers, announcing that their new anti-inflammatory drugs and painkillers will be launched next month in the Midwest and Southern markets at a price twenty-five percent lower than ours."
The head of the marketing department added from the side.
"Furthermore, they have already rented large tracts of idle factory buildings in the suburbs and ordered dozens of large cast-iron reaction kettles. By the looks of it, they are prepared to drown us with production capacity and pricing."
Hearing these reports, Catherine did not get angry.
Instead, a sneer of extreme mockery curled at the corner of her mouth.
"Drown us with production capacity? Do they think that just because they have the money to buy reaction kettles, they can brew medicine?"
Catherine slammed the fountain pen in her hand onto the desk.
"Smith. How is the matter of dropping the lawsuit that I asked you to handle going?" She looked at the lawyer from the Legal Department.
"It has all been taken care of, President. We have submitted the withdrawal applications to the local courts in Boston and New Jersey and have ceased all accusations regarding their infringement of our formula patents."
The lawyer said, somewhat unwillingly.
"But now the newspapers outside are mocking us. They say Umbrella is afraid, and that we have admitted defeat in court."
"Hmph~ let them write."
Catherine did not care at all about what the newspapers said.
She stood up and walked to the massive supply chain blackboard on one side of the office.
It was covered with complex import and export shipping routes and raw material distribution centers.
"Lawsuits take three years, and I don't have the patience to play with them. I want them to surrender on their own within three weeks."
Catherine turned around and stared at the procurement director, Hoffman.
"Hoffman, how much of the three million dollars in emergency funds I allocated to you the day before yesterday have you spent?"
Hoffman immediately straightened his back, his eyes revealing an excitement akin to participating in a frenzied slaughter.
"Reporting to the President, not a single cent is left. It has all been thrown in."
Hoffman began to report on his frenzied sweeping of goods over the past few days.
"We maxed out the margins directly at the futures exchanges in New York and Chicago. We bought out all coal tar futures contracts in the American market for the next eight months. This stuff is the only basic raw material for refining carbolic acid disinfectant. Now, even the scraps used for street lamps are all in our hands."
"Regarding the raw paste for manufacturing laudanum and high-purity painkillers, the ocean-going fleet of the Metropolitan Trading Company has intercepted all cargo ships bound for the East Coast from Asia and Turkey. Using a premium thirty percent above market price, we directly bought out their entire ship's cargo with cash on the high seas."
Hoffman pointed to the South American shipping routes on the blackboard.
"The most ruthless part is the cinchona bark, the lifeline for producing quinine. We directly used agents in South America to buy out the entire harvest for the next year from the two largest plantations in Peru. We didn't even leave them the leaves on the trees."
Catherine listened to these reports and nodded with satisfaction.
This is true commercial monopoly.
Formulas can be stolen, machines can be bought, but the amount of raw materials that grow on earth is fixed every year.
At least for now, that is the case.
As long as you tighten the faucet, the downstream pool will soon dry up.
"Well done." Catherine walked back to her desk.
"Don't they like building factories? Didn't they take money from the British and prepare to make a big move?"
Catherine's eyes flashed with excitement.
"Starting this afternoon, I want you to drive the prices of the remaining scattered raw materials on the market through the roof. Increase the price of coal tar fivefold for me! Increase the price of cinchona bark tenfold!"
"I want the bosses of the Sterling Brotherhood and Apotech to hold the checks sent from Philadelphia, walk through every dock in all of America, and not be able to buy even a single gram of raw material that can be used to make medicine."
"Also, have the logistics network of the Metropolitan Trading Company completely blockade the pharmaceutical transport lines to Boston and New Jersey. Whoever dares to secretly sell them a barrel of raw material, Umbrella will permanently revoke their medical procurement qualifications."
"But President, what if they go to the black market to buy high-priced raw materials?" The head of the marketing department asked.
"Then let them buy."
Catherine rolled her beautiful eyes, expressing speechlessness.
"After all, didn't they claim to the newspapers that they would lower prices by twenty-five percent? If they use raw materials that have increased tenfold in price to manufacture medicine, and then sell it at a discount, they will lose dozens of dollars for every bottle of medicine sold. The money given to them by the people backing them won't even be enough to buy them a month's worth of raw materials!"
This is the way big enterprises do things.
Either your factories shut down due to a lack of raw materials, your machines turn into scrap iron, and you go completely bankrupt.
Or you go buy the sky-high priced raw materials yourself, fulfill your promise of lowering prices, and have every last drop of your blood drained by the massive losses.
Catherine had no intention of leaving any path of survival for these two generic drug factories.
"Alright, that's it. Go do it, and keep a close watch on the cargo manifests of all major ports. Not a single wooden barrel containing raw materials is allowed to slip into Boston." Catherine issued the order to leave.
The three directors responded in unison and exited the office, filled with murderous intent.
Catherine walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the bustling streets of Manhattan.
She knew that this all-out attack by Old Morgan was extremely fierce. Felix was handling things with ease in steel and military industry.
And as the mistress of the Argyle Family, she also had to cut off all the reaching tentacles on this pharmaceutical battlefield for her partner.
"Want to steal Umbrella's market?"
Catherine picked up the cold coffee from the desk and poured it into the potted plant next to her.
"I will let you know what true despair is."