It was a night of torrential rain in Philadelphia on May 18th.
In the city, inside a private box at a club named "Franklin," the fire in the fireplace flickered.
Lamotte Dupont sat on the sofa, soaked to the bone. At his feet lay a slightly worn leather suitcase containing several notebooks he had secretly taken from the Dupont Laboratory.
At this moment, the hands of this chemical genius from the Dupont Family were shaking, both from the cold and from fear.
That's right, he had betrayed his family.
Since running away, thoughts of regret had flickered in his mind.
For a family like the Duponts, which placed extreme importance on blood ties and loyalty, betraying the family was practically a capital offense.
"Hey buddy... maybe you should try some of this. It'll do a lot to warm you up."
Flynn handed him a glass of hot brandy.
"Thank you."
Lamotte took the glass and downed it in one go. The spicy liquid flowing down his throat calmed him down a bit.
"Can you really help me?"
Lamotte looked up, his bloodshot eyes staring at Flynn.
"I assume since you contacted me, you must know that Henry's influence in Delaware is immense. Even if I've fled here, he might still send people to drag me back."
"Hahaha, please relax, Mr. Lamotte. You must realize this isn't Delaware; it's not the Dupont Family's place to come here and snatch people."
A low, powerful voice came from the doorway.
Felix walked in first, wearing a long black trench coat, rainwater dripping from the hem onto the carpet.
Behind him, over a dozen members of the security department entered one by one, taking control of every corner of the room.
"You are... Mr. Argyle?"
Obviously, as the lights brightened, Lamotte recognized the man who frequently appeared in the newspapers.
"That's right, it's me."
Felix walked over and sat opposite Lamotte, while Flynn tactfully refrained from interrupting.
"Lamotte, I know what you're worried about."
Felix looked directly at Lamotte, knowing the man feared the Dupont Family would track him down, and spoke to reassure him.
"I know you're worried about lawsuits, your reputation, and being disowned by your family. But I can tell you, none of that is worth mentioning in the face of the coming future."
Felix took a document from his coat and placed it on the table.
"These are the registration papers for a new company. The name is 'Argyle-Dupont United Chemical Company'."
Lamotte was stunned for a moment: "My name... is on there?"
"Yes, exactly. In this company, you are a technical partner with a 10% stake. I am the investor, responsible for funding and handling all the trouble."
"I've seen the intelligence on you."
Felix leaned forward, his gaze turning sharp.
"As you know, the Laughlin Company is already producing Nitroglycerin. We use it in the oil fields of Pennsylvania to blast through rock layers."
"I know," Lamotte gave a bitter smile.
"Liquid Nitroglycerin—that's the Grim Reaper. It's extremely unstable; the slightest vibration will set it off. You're playing with fire."
"Exactly, we are playing with fire," Felix admitted frankly.
"While the results are good, transportation is too difficult and far too dangerous. I need you to make it 'docile'."
Felix pointed to the suitcase beside Lamotte.
"I heard you're researching an absorbent that can turn liquid explosives into solids? What Mr. Nobel calls 'Dynamite'?"
"Yes." A flash of heat flickered in Lamotte's eyes.
"Just by adding Diatomaceous Earth, it becomes very stable and can be transported by train without losing its power. But Henry forbade me from continuing the experiments; he said it was the work of the devil."
"Henry is a zombie guarding a coffin of Black Powder," Felix sneered. "But I need more than just that."
Felix lowered his voice and stated his true objective.
"Lamotte, I know you're also researching something else—Smokeless Powder."
Those words rang in Lamotte's ears like a thunderclap, and he looked at Felix in shock.
"How do you know?"
"In this country, as long as I want to know, there are no secrets," Felix stared at him.
"Black Powder produces too much smoke when it burns, revealing a soldier's position, and the residue clogs the barrels. My Vanguard Arms is developing a new generation of repeating rifles and breech-loading cannons; Black Powder can no longer meet the demand."
"I need a new type of propellant that burns clean, is more powerful, and produces no smoke."
"Henry only wants to sell his Black Powder to the military, so he suppressed your research because your invention would dig his own grave."
"But I'm different." Felix reached out a hand to Lamotte. "I want you to dig that grave open. I want you to create Smokeless Powder and completely obsolete the products of the Dupont Family."
Lamotte looked silently at the man before him, who was even younger than himself, and felt an ambition that could consume everything.
Felix pointed at the document again.
"I will give you five hundred thousand dollars in startup capital. You can go to New Jersey or anywhere else to choose a site and build a factory. What equipment you buy and who you hire is entirely up to you. I won't interfere with the technology; I only want the final result."
"What result?"
"I want you to produce stable Nitroglycerin and Smokeless Powder." Felix's gaze became fanatical.
"But... the patents for those things are in the hands of the family," Lamotte hesitated.
"Then take them back," Felix sneered.
After all, Nitroglycerin wasn't something the Dupont Family came up with; their patents were questionable.
Moreover, the Laughlin Company also held related patents, so in this day and age, a patent lawsuit would be a messy account that no one could settle clearly.
Since everyone infringed upon each other in some way, it would eventually end in nothing more than a handshake and a compromise.
However, the actual patent for Smokeless Powder really was in the hands of the Dupont Family—or rather, in Lamotte's hands.
"Don't worry, my legal team is already drafting the complaint. We will prove that those patents are the crystallization of your personal wisdom, not the property of the Dupont Family."
"And, Lamotte. You must understand one thing."
Felix leaned forward, his voice like a demon's whisper.
"Henry's ways are obsolete. He's clutching Black Powder like he's clutching a corpse. You, on the other hand, represent the dawn of the chemical industry."
"So, do you want to be the nephew living in frustration under his uncle's shadow, or do you want to be the scientist who changes the world?"
This sentence hit Lamotte's weak spot.
As a genius, what he could least tolerate was not poverty, but having his opinions and requests ignored and suppressed.
He had been stifled under Henry for far too long.
He could only watch helplessly as his inspiration was locked in a cabinet to rot; that kind of pain was worse than death.
If no one could help him, he might have just had to comply with the family.
But now, with Mr. Argyle daring to fight the family for his sake, he desperately wanted to escape that cage.
"Alright, I'll do it."
Lamotte took a deep breath, his gaze becoming firm.
"I have the formula and data for the Smokeless Powder; it's all here." He patted the leather suitcase.
"Regarding that Smokeless Powder formula, I actually kept a trick up my sleeve. The version I gave to the family is incomplete. The true core catalyst—I am the only one in this world who knows it."
"Hahahaha! Truly a genius."
Felix laughed loudly and patted Lamotte on the shoulder.
"I knew it; a smart man always leaves himself a way out."
"Sign it, Lamotte. From this day on, you are no longer a traitor to the Dupont Family, but a hero of a new empire."
Lamotte took a deep breath, picked up the pen, summoned all his courage, and signed his name on the document.
At that moment, the sound of the pen tip gliding across the paper seemed like the first crack appearing in the century-old edifice of the Dupont Family.
Seeing this, Felix showed a satisfied smile.
He stood up after putting away the document.
"Lamotte, Flynn will arrange for you to go to New York in a moment. There's factory land there we're about to acquire. I imagine you can prepare to start work there immediately."
"As for Henry..."
Felix looked out at the dark, rainy night.
"You can rest assured; he doesn't dare reach his hand into my territory. Let the Dupont Family bicker with my lawyers. Perhaps by the time they win the argument, your new explosives, Lamotte, will have already blown the market wide open."
Early June, Broadway, New York.
Inside the offices of the Federal Real Estate Company, the air was thick with the scent of old paper and ink.
Arthur Hamilton sat behind his broad oak desk, but he wasn't processing sales contracts for Manhattan land. Before him was a pile of a different kind of document: thick legal files and several yellowed chemical experiment notebooks.
These notes were the "tribute" Lamotte Dupont had brought with him, and they were also the noose that was about to be tightened around the neck of that Delaware giant.
"Manager, the legal team is ready."
An assistant knocked and entered, holding a freshly printed complaint, the paper still warm from the ink.
"The Delaware court summons has also been issued through our channels. As you instructed, we didn't sue Henry Dupont personally, but rather the 'Dupont Family Trust Fund' and the 'Dupont Black Powder Company.'"
Hamilton took the complaint and skimmed through it quickly.
"Very good. The grounds for the lawsuit are clearly stated: 'Dispute over patent ownership regarding Smokeless Powder purification processes and Nitroglycerin stabilizers.'"
He closed the folder and tapped his fingers rhythmically on the cover.
"We don't need to win this lawsuit immediately. In the world of law, delay is death. We only need to convince the judge that the Dupont Family is using a 'disputed' technology to expand their new factory. That will be enough to apply for a temporary injunction."
"But, Manager," the assistant reminded him with some concern.
"The Dupont Family has immense influence in Delaware. That's their home turf, and many of the judges there are friends of Henry."
"Friendship is built on interests, but fear is more enduring than friendship."
Hamilton stood up and walked to the window, looking down at the bustling street below.
"Besides, this time we are suing in the Federal Circuit Court, citing the 'Interstate Commerce Clause' of the Constitution. Those local judges in Delaware have no jurisdiction. As long as it involves interstate commerce, it's a federal matter."
"Go. Have the marshals place the seals on the gates of the new Dupont factory. I want Henry to watch that expensive, newly purchased equipment rust in the warehouse."
...Three days later, Wilmington, Delaware.
At the Dupont Estate by the Brandywine River, the early morning mist had not yet dissipated.
In the dining room, the clatter of silver utensils sounded exceptionally sharp. Henry Dupont had just taken a sip of coffee when the butler walked in holding a document. His face looked troubled, and his footsteps had lost their usual steadiness.
"General, there are guests."
"Guests?"
Henry frowned and set down his newspaper.
"This early? Is it Parker from the bank? Tell him the cash flow is being arranged and not to go crying like a woman."
"No, sir. It's not someone from the bank." The butler swallowed hard.
"It's... it's marshals from the Federal Court. And two men in plain clothes who look like lawyers from New York."
Just as the butler finished speaking, two uniformed marshals entered the dining room. They didn't show much humility despite being in the century-old Dupont Estate; instead, they carried an air of businesslike indifference.
"Mr. Henry Dupont."
The lead marshal handed over a paper with an embossed seal.
"This is a temporary injunction issued by the United States Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit."
"According to the lawsuit filed by Mr. Lamotte Dupont, several chemical patents he invented during his employment were illegally appropriated by your family. Until the case is resolved, the court prohibits the Dupont company from using the relevant technology for production or expansion."
"Lamotte..."
Henry's hand trembled, and scalding coffee splashed onto the back of his hand, but he didn't seem to feel it.
"That traitor actually dares to sue me?"
Henry stood up abruptly and slammed the paper onto the table, making the plates rattle.
"This is a family matter! I am his uncle. He worked in the family laboratory, he ate my food and lived under my roof. The results naturally belong to the family. This has been the rule for hundreds of years!"
"The rules are set by you, but the laws are set by the States, sir," the marshal said expressionlessly.
"We are only here to execute the order. Your expansion project for the Brandywine Valley Factory No. 2 must stop immediately. All experimental records and equipment must be sealed."
"You wouldn't dare!"
Henry Algernon, who had been sitting silently nearby, rushed over and stood in front of his father, his face flushed red.
"This is private property; this is robbery. We want to see the Governor!"
"You can see the Governor, or even the President." The marshal pointed to the carriage outside.
"But if you resist the law, we have the right to arrest you. Additionally, the plaintiff's attorney has applied for asset preservation. Some of the Dupont company's accounts at the New York Bank will be frozen as a litigation bond."
"Frozen accounts?"
Hearing those words, Henry felt his vision go dark. His body swayed, and he had to steady himself against the corner of the table.
The family's cash flow had already dried up because they had previously bailed out the Brandywine Valley Bank during a run.
If the accounts were frozen now, what would happen to the ongoing raw material purchases? What about the wages for thousands of workers?
This was driving the Dupont Family into a corner.
"Get out!"
Henry roared, his voice like that of a wounded lion.
"I will have my lawyers find you! I will take this case all the way to the Supreme Court!"
The marshals gave a salute and turned to leave.
They didn't care about the old man's rage; they only cared about completing their mission.
A deathly silence fell over the dining room.
Henry slumped into his chair, staring at the court summons. He finally understood that the Argyle from New York had begun his counterattack. And it wasn't just about stealing business.
This was an execution.
It was a set of shackles woven from legal clauses, locking the hands and feet of the Dupont Family so they would be unable to move in the coming upheaval.
"Father, what do we do?" Henry Algernon was panicked.
"If Factory No. 2 stops production, we won't be able to deliver the batch of black powder we promised the Department of the Army on time. And the raw material suppliers are still waiting for payment."
"Find a lawyer!" Henry gritted his teeth.
"Find the best lawyer! I want to countersue. I'll sue Lamotte for stealing trade secrets, for stealing family property."
"But..."
Henry Algernon said in a low voice, his tone filled with despair.
"Our liquid capital is all in that frozen account. Hiring a top lawyer requires cash, and a lot of it."
Henry closed his eyes.
A penny can break a hero; in this game of capital, there is no justice without cash.
"Prepare the carriage."
Henry opened his eyes, a flash of determination in them.
"To New York."
"What are we going to New York for? That's Argyle' territory now," Henry Algernon said, puzzled.
"To find money."
Henry stood up and adjusted his collar, trying to regain his dignity as a general.
"I don't believe all of Wall Street listens to that Argyle. There are other bankers in New York. And those Jews—they only care about interest, not people."
"As long as I can borrow money, I can keep this lawsuit going until I bleed that arrogant Lamotte dry."