Grant stared at Felix, who was sitting across from him, waiting for the name of the person who could take over the position of Secretary of the Treasury.
Felix didn't answer.
Instead, he reached out, picked up the water glass on the table, took a sip, and then placed the glass back in its original spot.
"Ulysses, you're thinking about this far too simply." Felix's voice was steady, offering no specific candidate.
"Do you think this is just about changing the owner of a desk in the cabinet?"
Grant frowned, somewhat puzzled.
"Of course I know this isn't just about replacing a clerk, Felix. But you said it yourself just now—this fund will likely involve the pension money of hundreds of thousands of federal employees. If we don't have a Secretary of the Treasury whom both sides trust to lead it, the initial legislative drafting and capital flow simply won't move forward. I agree with that point."
"Precisely because it involves hundreds of thousands of federal public servants, we cannot afford to rush this matter." Felix leaned back in his chair.
"If you just appoint someone at random to replace George Boutwell right now, those old foxes on Capitol Hill will smell blood immediately. They'll use endless hearings to block the nomination, and they'll likely even interrogate this new Secretary about his relationship with Wall Street."
Felix raised his hand and pointed toward the window.
"You are holding a trump card in your hand capable of changing the American political landscape. Don't play it like a common administrative order. You must turn it into your political leverage."
"Leverage?" Grant looked at Felix strangely.
"The congressional midterm elections are approaching," Felix reminded the soldier-turned-president.
"Your current approval rating isn't optimistic. Reconstruction in the South is meeting resistance, and Northern factory owners are complaining about tariffs. You need a campaign topic that will make everyone shut up and willingly vote for you."
Grant's eyes suddenly lit up.
"You mean... using the pension fund bill as a bargaining chip for the midterm elections?"
"Exactly." Felix nodded.
"You can have Ackerman and Horace build the framework of the bill internally first, but don't submit it to Congress yet. Wait until the election reaches a fever pitch, then throw out this 'Federal Public Servants Retirement Security Act'."
Felix's tone was laced with calculation.
"At that time, you tell every mailman, policeman, tax collector, and judge in America: as long as they vote for you and your cabinet candidates, and as long as the Republican Party can hold a majority in Congress, this bill will pass immediately. They will be able to receive their own pension security every month."
"Guess who those employees and their families will cast their votes for? Anyone who dares to jump out and oppose this bill at that time will be seen as destroying the livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of families. They will be driven right out of Washington by angry voters."
Grant was shaken internally. He looked at Felix as if he were looking at a monster.
"This is practically political blackmail," Grant muttered to himself.
"No, no, no... this is called cashing in votes, buddy." Felix stood up.
"So, there's no rush for the Secretary of the Treasury candidate. You can first arrange for a low-profile Undersecretary to temporarily act in the role and let Boutwell leave gracefully."
Felix walked toward the office door.
"You and Horace should think over this campaign strategy carefully first. As for the candidate, I need to head back to the manor to meet with Thomas. After all, this Secretary of the Treasury doesn't just need to understand the ledgers; he also needs to be able to hold his own on Capitol Hill. Someone like that isn't easy to find."
Grant didn't try to make him stay.
His mind was completely occupied by the midterm election plan Felix had proposed.
"Alright, I'll have Horace handle Boutwell's resignation procedures," Grant said behind Felix.
Felix pushed open the door and walked out of the Oval Office.
The carriage drove smoothly through the streets of Washington.
Felix leaned back in the corner of the carriage, resting with his eyes closed.
With The White House crisis resolved, the bank run war on Wall Street should become a one-sided slaughter.
He now had enough time to digest the fruits of victory.
The carriage drove into the Clark Manor.
Felix hopped down from the carriage and walked into the hall. The manor was very quiet, with servants performing their daily cleaning.
"Where is Caesar?"
Felix casually asked a passing servant.
"The young master is in the sunroom on the second floor, sir," the servant replied respectfully.
Felix took off his coat and walked up the stairs to the second floor.
Natural light flooded in through the glass roof of the sunroom, where two-year-old Caesar was sitting on the carpet. Around him were scattered over a hundred smooth, square wooden blocks.
The child wasn't throwing the toys around.
He was extremely focused on stacking the blocks one by one, attempting to build a structure resembling a castle.
The nanny sat on a chair nearby, watching him quietly.
Felix walked in. Just as the nanny was about to stand and bow, Felix waved his hand, signaling for her to leave.
The nanny withdrew, closing the glass door behind her.
Felix walked to the edge of the carpet and sat cross-legged. He didn't make a sound, watching as Caesar carefully placed the last block at the highest point.
The castle was formed, though it was somewhat crooked.
Caesar let out a long breath, a proud smile appearing on his face. He turned his head and saw Felix sitting beside him.
"Godfather! I built a house."
Caesar pointed at the pile of blocks, his voice loud.
"Not bad, but the foundation isn't very stable, and the walls are too thin," Felix critiqued.
He reached out and gave the side of the wooden castle a light push with his index finger.
Clatter.
The castle collapsed instantly, blocks scattering everywhere.
Caesar was stunned. His eyes instantly turned red as he stared at the ruins on the floor, then he looked up and glared intensely at Felix.
"Godfather! You pushed down my house!" Caesar shouted.
"Because your house couldn't withstand anything."
Felix didn't try to comfort him; instead, his tone was flat.
"If I were your competitor, I wouldn't need much force. I'd just need to find your weakness and give it a push, and what you spent all morning building would turn into trash."
Caesar gritted his teeth and didn't cry.
He crawled over and grabbed a piece of wood.
"This is the Clark Family manor. Anna said all of this will be mine later. No one dares to push down my house!"
Caesar argued with a child's stubbornness.
"She's wrong."
Felix looked at this child whose future he had sworn to protect.
"Even though your surname is Clark, and you will inherit your grandfather's connections on Capitol Hill and even know many politicians in top hats, you must remember one thing."
Felix reached out and grabbed Caesar's wrist.
"The power in a politician's hands is hollow. They are on the stage today, but tomorrow they might be driven back to the farm by votes. What can truly protect you isn't your surname, but whether you have enough gold behind you and whether you have factories that can produce steel."
Felix let go, picked up two pieces of wood, and knocked them heavily together.
"You have the blood of the Clark Family in your veins. You have allies. They might be in New York, or they might be in Chicago. You all control different resources. When the politics in your hands run into trouble, you need their money. When their money needs policy protection, they need your signature in Washington."
"If you think you can survive in this country relying solely on a surname, then your end will be just like this pile of wooden blocks."
Though Felix knew he shouldn't be lecturing a two-year-old with such heavy truths—they likely wouldn't understand and would forget later—he had to speak of the world's cruelty early on, so it would be deeply etched into their hearts.
Caesar stared at the wooden blocks on the floor, his small head seemingly trying to digest these words that were far too heavy for him.
He was silent for a moment, then began to gather the wooden blocks together again.
"Hmph~ I'm going to build one that you can't push down," Caesar muttered in a low, adorable voice.
Felix watched him, a faint, imperceptible smile touching the corners of his mouth.
He made time to visit his godson not merely out of sentimental obligation.
After all, he was the founder of a commercial empire.
Felix knew very well that this empire would need extremely strong alliances in the future to resist external erosion.
Caesar was to be the anchor in Washington.
That anchor had to be welded firmly to the iron ship Felix was building — and that work began now, two blocks at a time.
The afternoon sun began to slant.
Anna pushed open the door to the sunroom, having just returned from an afternoon tea party with several cabinet members' wives.
Then she saw Felix sitting on the carpet, a piece of wood in his hand, teaching Caesar how to cross-stack the blocks to increase their load-bearing capacity.
This scene made her pause for a moment.
After all, in her impression, Felix rarely wasted time playing with a child — even one he had sworn before God to look after.
Hearing the door open, Felix dropped the wooden block and stood up.
"You're back." Felix brushed the dust off his hands.
"Yes, let's talk in the study."
Anna glanced at Caesar with a fond smile, then turned and walked toward the hallway.
In the second-floor study, Anna sat on the sofa.
Felix gave a full account of today's negotiations at The White House with Grant, as well as his concept for the retirement fund.
After listening, Anna's brows were tightly furrowed.
She didn't feel happy about resolving the monopoly crisis; instead, she appeared deeply worried.
"What! Establish a retirement fund for public officials? That idea is crazy, Felix."
Anna leaned against the arm of the sofa, her tone carrying strong disapproval.
"How many years has it been since the Civil War ended? Taxes in the South can't be collected at all, and tariffs in the North are at odds. According to what I know, there is simply no extra money in the treasury for some welfare program. You're asking the Department of the Treasury to match that three percent every month—that will directly drain the government's daily liquidity."
"What makes me even more uncomfortable is that you actually agreed to provide the Department of the Treasury with millions of dollars in low-interest loans to fill the initial funding gap. The key is, what happens after three years?"
Anna looked at Felix, her eyes full of confusion.
She didn't believe he was unaware of the country's current financial situation.
Immediately, Anna stood up and walked to the desk, casually flipping open an account book.
"I don't understand!"
"Felix, even if Caesar doesn't inherit the Clark estate in the future, those are still the assets of this family. You're giving away millions of dollars for nothing in the form of low-interest loans to a government that's ready to turn its back at any moment?"
Turning around, Anna looked Felix straight in the eye.
"What couldn't that money be used for? Use it to build ten new freighters for the Metropolitan Trading Company, or lay another three hundred miles of railroad in the West. The profits generated would be doubled. Now you're taking it to pay pensions to those clerks—this isn't doing business, you're doing charity. I really don't understand."
Felix sat on the sofa, watching Anna vent her grievances.
He knew Anna's thinking was still limited to direct returns on the balance sheet.
"Take a longer view, Anna," Felix said in a flat tone.
"That's not millions of dollars in charity; it's a protective talisman I've bought with my money."
Felix held up one finger.
"This money is given over three years, less than two million a year. For the cash flow of the Imperial Bank, there's absolutely no pressure. But the returns it brings are incomparable to any freighter or railroad."
"Once this fund is established, General Electric and the Telephone Company become part of the federal system. In the future, anyone who dares to audit my accounts is auditing the retirement money of the United States public officials. Moreover, once this is announced, the prestige of the Argyle Family among the public and the lower levels of government will reach its peak. They will believe it is we who spent the money to secure their later years."
Felix stood up and walked toward the window, hands clasped behind his back.
"A few million in low-interest loans in exchange for near-permanent monopoly immunity and hundreds of thousands of votes. This is a bargain with a return rate of over ten thousand percent. You've miscalculated the accounts."
Anna bit her lip.
She knew Felix's macro logic was correct, but as a member of the Clark Family who was used to clutching every penny, lending money to politicians still felt like cutting her own flesh.
"Even if you think it's a bargain, what about the candidate for Secretary of the Treasury?" Anna simply changed the subject.
"You've kicked Boutwell out. Although he told you to nominate someone, Grant will certainly need that person to be loyal to the country. So, if this person cannot cooperate with our accounting manipulations, that fund will become an empty shell."
"That's why I'm waiting for Thomas to return." Felix turned from the window.
"This candidate must come from within the Republican Party, must understand finance, and most importantly, must have no history of contact with Old Morgan or other British capital."
Felix didn't want to be backstabbed again. He currently had no way to deal with the turtle Old Morgan in London, so he could only deal with things as they came.
After all...
The United States was currently no match for Great Britain.
At dusk.
Thomas Clark, dragging a somewhat weary body, pushed open the door to the study.
"Felix, Boutwell has resigned."
Thomas walked in and immediately dropped a bombshell.
"The White House just released the announcement; the reason is a severe stomach ailment requiring him to return home for rest. It seems Ulysses is moving fast."
Thomas sat down in a single sofa chair and picked up the teacup Anna handed him.
"Frost told me the results of your negotiations at The White House, and Ulysses also told me about the retirement fund. Felix, you're truly a genius. This move directly ties Ulysses to our chariot. It's just a pity to let him take this advantage."
"The key now is the next person to sit in that seat." Felix looked at Thomas.
Thomas set down his teacup.
"I went through the list in the Senate lounge this afternoon. Someone who meets your requirements: understands finance, has no foreign capital background, and can be accepted by Ulysses."
Thomas took a small slip of paper out of his pocket.
"I only found one suitable person. Richard Morrison, he is the Tax Commissioner of Ohio."
Felix had no impression of this name; it seemed he wasn't any kind of high-profile figure.
"What's his background?"
"No background to speak of, just a pure numerical bureaucrat. He served in the Civil War and managed accounts in the Quartermaster Corps. After the war, he returned to Ohio to handle tax settlements," Thomas explained.
"Furthermore, he has no roots on Wall Street, which means he doesn't belong to any financial faction. Ulysses has deep sentimental ties to Ohio and won't reject a tax official from his own home state."
Thomas paused and revealed a slight, old-fox-like smile.
"Most importantly, two years ago, he was almost prosecuted because of a bad debt from the state government. I used my connections on the Judiciary Committee to help him suppress the case. He owes me a huge favor."
Felix nodded, beginning to understand.
"A bureaucrat who knows how to count, has no backer, and owes us a favor. Not bad," Felix decided.
"Then you go and arrange it. Have Ulysses nominate Richard Morrison as soon as possible. He needs to take over the Department of the Treasury before next month."
"Since the back door in Washington is now locked, I must also return to New York as soon as possible."
A cruel, cold light flashed in Felix's eyes.
"The old turtle thinks he can establish a foothold on Wall Street relying on a few gold bars from the treasury. I'll show him how the United Trust Bank turns into a pile of ruins once his hole card is pulled away."