The Agreement

Well, now things have really taken a turn. Originally, the group had come to Columbia University full of excitement, but after everything that happened, no one was in the mood to even think about the school anymore. They took a brief look around, barely paying attention, and then each went off on their own, lost in thought.

Wilkie left to take care of business affairs, as well as to gather more information about the discount supermarket concept. Niall had originally planned to tour Columbia today and return home with Frederick tomorrow, but now it didn't seem appropriate to leave right away.

Lying on the bed, Niall pondered. Wilkie's proposal—if viewed purely from Wilkie's perspective—was understandable. Lacking a political team, Wilkie needed to secure some early support in the fast-approaching presidential election.

The Republican president Hoover's support base had crumbled, and there was no chance he would win re-election. Once the votes were in, a major internal split in the Republican Party was inevitable.

In this impending collapse and fragmentation, Wilkie lacked the experience to build a solid foundation for himself. While Niall wasn't exactly experienced either, he could at least offer advice from the sidelines.

At present, Wilkie was just a well-known lawyer in New York—but there were dozens, if not hundreds, of lawyers like him in the city. Everyone wanted to find a strategist of the caliber of Zhuge Liang or Sima Yi, but how realistic was that? You've got to start with a ragtag team of nobodies before building something serious.

As the saying goes, "In turbulent times, heroes emerge; whoever has the guns gets to be king." First form a team, then slowly expand. That's how the road begins.

So what benefit would Niall gain from backing Wilkie?

As the proverb goes: "A wise bird chooses the right tree; a loyal subject chooses the right master." Even if Niall were to align with someone powerful, he had to choose carefully.

If he truly didn't want to pick a side, Charles "Lucky" Luciano had already expressed interest in bringing Niall into the Italian Mafia—at the very least in the role of a trusted advisor. Tagging along with either Luciano or Meyer Lansky could easily build a million-dollar fortune within ten or twenty years.

The evolution of the Italian Mafia was well known—by later years, it could hardly be called a "gang" in the traditional sense. It had gradually transformed into a sort of extended family-run corporate empire, where internal hierarchy and kinship ties bound everyone together in both legitimate and not-so-legitimate ventures.

It could be considered "whitewashed," at least from their own perspective. It was certainly cleaner than running around murdering people and dealing in illegal liquor.

Following the Italian Mafia would make money and women easily accessible. And once they were properly "cleaned up" after World War II, it wouldn't be such a bad life.

The reason Niall ultimately didn't go with Charles Luciano or Lansky was mainly psychological. He'd been raised with strong moral values and always found this kind of life repulsive. Plus, he was still young—he had the luxury of making mistakes, of exploring different paths.

He wanted to take his chances, see the world. He'd come all the way to America—why not try to live the "American Dream"?

So he had politely declined Luciano's offer, which only made Luciano respect him more. He assumed Niall was aiming for a legitimate, political path—and for the Mafia, that was actually more valuable.

Now, a legitimate opportunity was right in front of Niall. Shouldn't he take it?

From past observation and whispers from the future, Wilkie was known to be an emotional man. There were rumors he once ditched an important meeting with Chiang Kai-shek just to be with a certain someone—for hours, nearly an entire night. That same person later even flew to America just to see him.

In their brief time together, Niall had also noticed Wilkie wasn't the arrogant or overbearing type. He was conservative, cautious even, but also personable. He was diligent and meticulous in professional matters.

More importantly, compared to the aloof Republican elites, Wilkie was more down-to-earth—more in touch with everyday voters. He didn't look down on ordinary folks. To him, they were all just people—no better or worse than anyone else.

The key was, he listened to advice.

"You're thinking about Wilkie, aren't you?" Frederick had taken off his jacket and tie. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and he casually walked over with a glass of Coke in hand.

The newly built Astoria Hotel had central air conditioning. It was scorching hot outside, but inside the room, it felt like spring all year round. There was even a refrigerator, of course. Knowing Niall loved this kind of thing, Frederick had grabbed a Coke and came over to talk.

"Yeah," Niall replied, taking the icy Coke and chugging a big gulp.

With Coke, the first sip is always the most satisfying. After that, the pleasure quickly fades. It's kind of like something a womanizer would say... crack...

"College can be pursued anytime. But opportunities like this don't come around often," Frederick said frankly. He and Niall had gone to school together since they were kids, so naturally their bond ran deeper than most.

"That's how you see it?" Niall knew exactly what he meant.

Wilkie wanted Niall's help. But Niall could also use Wilkie as a stepping stone to climb higher. Everyone talked about the "American Dream," but social mobility in America was becoming harder and harder. For someone like Niall—an Irish immigrant from a small farming family—there really wasn't much of a future.

Unless you went down a shady path, made your first fortune, and then cleaned yourself up. Not that this was necessarily a bad path—but it wasn't as good as the opportunity right in front of him.

"If you ever run for governor of West Virginia, I'll be your campaign sponsor."

Frederick stood up and walked to the window. The afternoon sun of New York State cast a golden glow on his face, highlighting his flowing blond hair and handsome features. For a moment, he looked absolutely radiant—the way a protagonist in a story should. That was the decisiveness of a true lead character.

"Hahahahahaha… You said it!" Niall jumped up and hugged Frederick.

His brother was showing such strong support—how could he not accept it? Maybe this was the chance that could change his life. No one knows what the future holds, but you have to at least try to cut through the fog.

Niall called Wilkie and agreed to assist him until the next year's presidential election. But first, he had to go back to Brooklyn. His family thought he was just out visiting colleges. If he didn't explain himself, Aunt Ginny would definitely be upset that he wasn't planning to go to school.

Once everything at home was sorted, Niall could then throw himself fully into the turbulent waters of New York.