Chapter 106: The Very Top
Frank Donnelly leaned against the polished brass railing on the second-floor balcony of the Metropolitan Club, looking down at the grand lobby below. Dozens of men in dark, perfectly tailored tuxedos and women in shimmering silk gowns moved across the floor, socialising over crystal glasses of liquor.
"You recognize anyone down there, Pat?" Frank asked, taking a quiet sip from his glass.
Patrick O’Rourke leaned alongside him, resting his forearms on the balustrade. "By face? Not really. By name, sure. Most of the heavy hitters in Manhattan are standing on that marble floor."
"The absolute peak of high society," Frank murmured with a faint scoff. "And boring as hell, unless you’re looking to cut deals or kiss the right boots. At least for folks born into decent families like us."
"Being born into a wealthy family has its privileges, but it blinds people," Patrick said, holding up his glass. "Those folks down there only look up. They never look down."
"Yeah," Frank chuckled softly. "But guys like us can look both up and down and see the whole picture."
Patrick clinked his glass lightly against Frank’s. "We’ll be up at the top looking down on all of them soon enough."
"Well, technically, we’re looking down on them right now," Frank pointed out with a smirk.
Patrick laughed under his breath, taking a drink. "Fair enough. At least for tonight."
"Gentlemen," a voice called out from behind them.
Frank and Patrick turned to see a tall, well-built man in his early thirties stepping up to the balcony rail. He wore an expensive dark suit and carried himself with effortless confidence.
Frank extended a hand. "Frank Donnelly. This is Patrick O’Rourke."
The man shook both their hands with a firm grip. "Connor McLaughlin. Chief Executive Officer of McLaughlin Shipping."
Patrick raised an eyebrow in genuine interest. "McLaughlin Shipping? Your company is quite prominent along the entire East Coast."
"Oh, please," Connor said, waving a modest hand with a smooth smile. "My company is just a modest shipping operation. We only operate in the Atlantic, unlike you gentlemen."
"Nothing quite on that scale," Patrick admitted. "We’re just small trade houses. My company, O’Rourke Wholesale Liquor, supplies smaller businesses in Midtown and Lower Manhattan."
"And I’m the proud owner of the Donnelly Provision Shop," Frank added.
A subtle flicker of disappointment passed over Connor’s face. The polite smile remained glued to his mouth, but his eyes went cold as he realized he was talking to middle-class shopkeepers rather than major shipping magnates.
"Is that so?" Connor said, his tone instantly losing its warmth. "A wonderful venture indeed." He checked his pocket watch with a practiced motion. "Well, I mustn’t keep you gentlemen waiting. I’m sure you’re both terribly preoccupied. I apologize for my intrusion."
Before Patrick could even form a response, Connor turned on his heel and walked away quickly into the crowd.
Patrick stood stunned for a second, then let out a dry laugh. "Well. That was fast."
Frank chuckled, leaning back against the rail. "See? That right there is why Edwin’s idea of creating a union for small independent merchants is the only way we look equal in front of these guys. A single small fish can’t beat a big fish, but a school of small fish can easily take down a big fish."
"You’re right," Patrick agreed. "For now, we’ll tolerate their behavior. It’s understandable since we don’t pose a threat to them yet."
Frank’s eyes drifted back down to the lobby below, catching sight of a group near the grand entrance arches. He squinted. "Is that who I think it is?"
Patrick followed his gaze. "Yeah. That’s Marek Kowalski—the new owner of Harrison & Bell Limited."
"No, I mean the old person next to him," Frank said, gesturing slightly.
"To be honest with you, I don’t know who that is," Patrick admitted.
"Seriously?" Frank lowered his voice. "That’s George Callahan from the Callahan Family. Besides owning a large wine distillery, real estate, and a logistics firm, he runs most of his business on the underworld side of things—smuggling, gambling dens, armed robberies."
Patrick frowned. "Doesn’t Big Jim run Chicago’s underworld?"
"Rumors say he and Big Jim were partners," Frank replied quietly. "The Callahan family has a wide network of smuggling routes across many states."
"Why is he here?" Patrick asked.
"Marek Kowalski might be his future heir to his businesses since he doesn’t have a son," Frank explained. "It would make sense if he plans to introduce his future grandson to his vast network of connections."
"What do we have here?" Samuel Hargrove chimed in from behind them, adjusting his coat.
"Remember the new owner of Harrison & Bell Limited?" Frank asked, nodding toward the lobby.
Samuel nodded.
"Well, the family that he’s getting engaged with is the Callahan Family," Frank said.
Samuel looked down over the railing, confirming the sight. "Yeah, that’s George Callahan and his triplet granddaughters. If I’m right, he’s gonna marry the three sisters."
Samuel turned to walk away. Frank and Patrick looked at him, surprised.
"You can’t be serious, right?" Frank asked.
Samuel turned back, gesturing downward. "Look at the way those three are holding him."
Patrick shook his head, half-amused. "Other than having that charming, innocent smile, he’s the luckiest man alive."
Frank stared down in utter silence, unable to say a word.
"Come on," Samuel said, waving for them to follow. "Edwin just convinced a young man from an extremely wealthy family. We should introduce ourselves."
Frank and Patrick exchanged a glance and followed Samuel down the carpeted hallway.
They walked into a quiet private room where a club staff member was pouring drinks. Edwin Mercer sat across from a tall young man who possessed a firm, elegant posture and an expression of cool indifference. Edwin was in the middle of presenting his proposal to join the union of small independent businesses, but the young man didn’t even try to listen to the full pitch before cutting in. He casually agreed and stated he wanted to meet Edwin’s colleagues.
Edwin stood up as the three men entered. "Gentlemen! This is Mr. Laurence Veymont of the Veymont Family."
Frank, Patrick, and Samuel widened their eyes in surprise. Everyone had heard of the Veymont family—they owned massive factories outside New York, with contracts and distribution relationships extending into several states.
"This is Mr. Donnelly, Mr. O’Rourke, and Mr. Hargrove," Edwin continued. "Gentlemen, this is Mr. Laurence."
The three men offered their hands to shake. Laurence didn’t even move his hands, merely offering a faint smile and a slight nod. Awkwardly, the three pulled their hands back and sat down.
Laurence, looking completely satisfied with himself, spoke in a measured tone. "I hear your plea. I would be honored to join your union, in hopes that others will join our cause. I do wish you will be able to convince most independent businesses, and I would be glad to give my utmost support."
All four merchants smiled broadly.
"Thank you, Mr. Veymont," Samuel said. "We are forever grateful for your help."
"No, no, you don’t have to be," Laurence replied. "It is my duty to help small businesses rise up in the corporate world, for we strive toward one common goal."
"Not to worry, Mr. Laurence," Samuel said, grinning widely. "We will not waste your support and will do the utmost of our abilities to gather everyone to our cause."
Laurence slightly nodded. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out four business cards and slipped one to each man. "Please, don’t hesitate to call me. I will gladly support everyone in any way I can."
Frank picked up his card and blinked in shock. The card was made of actual, shining silver. Only a man of immense status and wealth could hand out items like that with such indifference.
Laurence stood up. "If you would be so kind, gentlemen, I have other matters to attend to."
"Oh, no problem, Mr. Laurence," Edwin said quickly, rising from his seat. "We are thankful for the valuable time you gave us."
Laurence smiled and nodded. "We will be seeing each other more often. Hopefully, our union will grow in numbers the next time we see each other again."
"You can look forward to it, Mr. Laurence," Edwin assured him.
The four men bowed respectfully and left the private room.
Outside in the corridor, Laurence walked with composed, confident strides. His staff member, Ellie, stepped up beside him.
"Is that a good idea, Mr. Laurence?" Ellie asked softly. "Mr. Eldridge might see this as another one of your circus stunts."
"Don’t worry, Ellie," Laurence said, his polite demeanor vanishing into cold contempt. "It was my first time interacting with a bunch of dirty pigs from the lower classes. I couldn’t stand them a second longer than necessary."
He adjusted his cuffs, a dark smirk touching his lips. "Although... the idea of building a union of small independent merchants is quite interesting. I get to have a bunch of small merchants under my control, and a bunch of small ants can take down an elephant. If I think about it, New York might not be so bad after all."
Ellie smiled faintly. "Maybe not, Mr. Laurence."