Chương 31: Rising Horizons

Arc III — Rising Horizons Monday, February 1, 1971 A fresh layer of snow covered Manhattan during the early hours of Monday morning. The streets were already alive despite the cold. Delivery trucks crawled through traffic while pedestrians hurried along sidewalks with collars raised against the February wind. The city never truly slept, and winter did little to slow it down. Inside Apartment 4B on East Street, the aroma of fresh coffee drifted from the kitchen.

Enzo stood over the stove, humming an old Italian tune as bacon sizzled in a cast-iron skillet. Eggs cooked beside it while slices of bread browned in the toaster. James entered, dressed in his familiar school uniform—a white shirt beneath a dark blue sweater and neatly pressed gray trousers.

"Good morning, Grandpa." Enzo looked over his shoulder.

"Morning." He placed a warm plate on the table.

"Eat while it's hot." James smiled.

"I don't think I'll ever complain about your cooking."

"You'd better not," Enzo replied with a grin.

"I've had thirty years to practice." The two shared breakfast while reading different sections of the morning edition of the New York Herald. James naturally gravitated toward the Wall Street column, while Enzo skimmed national headlines before moving to business and local news. Nothing immediately caught James's attention. That was perfectly fine. Not every day in history contained a golden opportunity. Sometimes... The important work happened quietly.

School passed much as it usually did. Mrs. Eleanor Parker led mathematics during the morning before moving into reading comprehension after lunch. During recess, James joined Michael Henderson, Robert Miller, and Sarah Collins on the playground. A baseball appeared within minutes.

"James!" Michael tossed it toward him.

"You've been gone so much lately that you're probably out of practice." James caught it cleanly.

"We'll find out." The game quickly became competitive. For nearly half an hour... James wasn't a businessman. He wasn't a strategist. He wasn't someone carrying decades of future knowledge. He was simply a ten-year-old enjoying recess with his classmates.

The familiar crimson Maranello Cavallo V12 waited outside Public School 87 when classes ended. James climbed into the passenger seat.

"Good afternoon." Enzo smiled as he shifted into gear.

"Ready for another meeting?" James laughed.

"I had a feeling today wouldn't end after school."

"It rarely does anymore." The sports car crossed Manhattan before entering Brooklyn's industrial district. Soon, the familiar brick façade of Thompson Manufacturing came into view. Employees greeted Enzo respectfully as he entered.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lombardi."

"Afternoon." Frank, the security guard, opened the main entrance with his usual smile.

"Welcome back, Mr. Lombardi."

"James."

"Frank." The three exchanged brief greetings before the grandfather and grandson walked toward the executive offices.

Leslie was already waiting outside Enzo's office with several folders pressed neatly against her chest.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lombardi."

"James."

"Good afternoon, Leslie." Anthony arrived moments later carrying his leather briefcase. Marcus followed shortly after, still wearing his factory supervisor's jacket over his shirt and tie. Once everyone had taken a seat, Enzo rested his hands on the polished oak desk.

"All right."

"Let's hear where we stand." Marcus opened the first folder.

"The first item concerns staffing." He looked around the room before continuing.

"Our production forecasts for the rest of the year make one thing clear."

"We need more people." He pointed toward a typed hiring schedule.

"Beginning today, we'll officially start expanding our workforce."

"For February, we'll recruit between twenty and thirty new employees." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. James nodded quietly. Exactly as planned. Marcus continued.

"Some experienced workers already inside Thompson Manufacturing will receive promotions to supervise the expanded production lines."

"We've identified several candidates with excellent leadership potential." Enzo smiled.

"I'd rather promote from within whenever possible." Marcus agreed.

"They've earned the opportunity." Anthony added, "It also sends a positive message to everyone on the factory floor. Good work is rewarded."

"I couldn't agree more," Enzo replied.

Marcus reached for the next report.

"Production." A faint smile appeared on his face.

"I'm happy to report that January exceeded our expectations." He slid a production summary across the desk.

"Instead of forty-seven hundred civilian products like our December launch..."

"We manufactured six thousand eight hundred units during January." James looked over the figures. The improvements in workflow were already paying dividends. Marcus continued.

"For February..."

"I recommend increasing output again." He tapped another sheet.

"Our target should be seven thousand five hundred civilian products."

"An increase of six hundred units." Enzo looked toward Peter Collins' production estimates included in the report.

"The assembly lines can handle it?" Marcus nodded confidently.

"They can."

"The additional hires will help."

"So will the workflow improvements James suggested." Anthony smiled.

"It seems our young consultant has been earning his chair after all." James laughed softly but remained silent. Enzo looked around the table.

"Any objections?" None came.

"Then it's approved." Marcus made a note.

"Seven thousand five hundred units for February."

Leslie opened the final folder.

"Our advertising campaign." She spread several newspaper layouts, magazine mock-ups, and retailer display sketches across the conference table.

"The first advertisements begin running this week." She looked toward James.

"I'd like your opinion before we finalize everything." James leaned forward, studying each design carefully. He remained quiet for several moments. Finally...

"I think we're emphasizing the products." Leslie blinked.

"... Which isn't necessarily wrong."

"But?" James smiled.

"But people rarely buy products first."

"They buy the idea of what those products let them become." The room grew quiet. He picked up the newspaper advertisement showing a construction worker wearing a Thompson work jacket.

"The photograph is excellent."

"But instead of simply saying our jacket is durable..."

"We should show what that durability means." He reached for another sheet of paper.

"Construction workers."

"Warehouse employees."

"Farmers."

"Campers."

"Families hiking together."

"They should see themselves in our advertisements." Leslie's pencil immediately began moving across her notebook. James continued.

"Our mountain logo should always appear in the same place."

"So people begin recognizing it instantly."

"The Thompson name should become familiar before they ever walk into a store." He looked toward Enzo.

"Brand recognition."

"It takes time."

"But once customers trust a name..."

"They'll come back." Anthony slowly smiled.

"I believe we've just hired ourselves another advertising executive." Everyone laughed. Even Leslie.

"I think James and I are going to be spending quite a few afternoons together." James smiled.

"I don't mind." Neither did Enzo. He quietly looked around the table. January had proven the civilian division could survive. February... Would determine whether it could truly grow.

Tuesday, February 2, 1971 — Groundhog Day The next morning began like any other. School. Lessons. Homework. Recess. Yet, throughout the day, James's thoughts repeatedly drifted toward the notebook tucked safely inside his school bag. Several pages still contained unfinished plans. Future investments. Business ideas. Opportunities waiting for the right moment. The pieces were slowly coming together. He simply needed patience.

That evening, instead of cooking at home, Enzo turned onto a familiar street in Little Italy. A warm sign hung above the entrance. Luigi Romano's Bakery The scent of freshly baked bread escaped each time the door opened. As soon as Luigi spotted them, his weathered face broke into a broad smile.

"Enzo!"

"My old friend!" He stepped around the counter and embraced him warmly before turning toward James.

"And there's my favorite young customer." James laughed.

"You tell everyone that." Luigi winked.

"Only the ones I like." The three men laughed together as another quiet February evening settled over Manhattan, unaware that the month had only just begun—and with it, another chapter in the future James intended to rewrite. ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Arc III — Rising Horizons Wednesday, February 3, 1971 The snow had finally stopped falling overnight. Although Manhattan remained cold, the morning sky was surprisingly clear, allowing sunlight to reflect off the rooftops lining East Street.

Inside Apartment 4B, Enzo was already preparing breakfast. The smell of toasted bread, bacon, and freshly brewed coffee filled the apartment. James sat across from his grandfather, quietly stirring his orange juice. Unlike most mornings... His mind was elsewhere. Enzo noticed almost immediately.

He smiled.

"That look again." James looked up.

"What look?"

"The one that tells me you've already started planning three months ahead." James couldn't help laughing.

"Maybe." Enzo folded his newspaper.

"All right."

"What is it this time?" James rested both elbows on the table.

"I've been thinking about money." Enzo raised an eyebrow.

"I thought we settled that."

"You've got your twenty-two thousand dollars." James nodded.

"I do."

"But it isn't enough."

"For what I want to accomplish..."

"I'll eventually need millions." Enzo leaned back.

"I suppose that's true."

"So?" James took a deep breath.

"The fastest legal way I know to build capital..."

"... is still sports betting." Enzo sighed.

"I knew this conversation would come sooner or later."

"But this time..." James continued.

"... I'm not asking us to travel every time." That immediately caught Enzo's attention.

"What do you mean?"

"If we keep personally showing up in Las Vegas..."

"... or London..."

"... and continue winning extraordinary bets..."

"People will eventually remember us."

"The sportsbooks may become suspicious."

"The banks might start asking unnecessary questions."

"And sooner or later..."

"We'll attract attention we don't want." Enzo slowly nodded.

"I can't argue with that."

"So..."

"What's your solution?" James smiled slightly.

"I'd rather explain everything with Anthony present." Enzo looked at him for several moments.

"This involves legal work?"

"It definitely does." Enzo laughed softly.

"Then we'll wait until this afternoon."

School passed quietly. James spent the day listening to Mrs. Eleanor Parker explains fractions before joining his classmates during recess. Although he laughed with Michael Henderson and Robert Miller... Part of his mind remained focused on the meeting, waiting later that afternoon.

By three o'clock... The familiar Maranello Cavallo V12 entered Brooklyn's industrial district. Less than fifteen minutes later... James followed Enzo upstairs toward the executive offices. Leslie greeted them with her usual warm smile.

"Good afternoon."

"Anthony is already here." Enzo nodded.

"Perfect." Inside the office... Anthony Russo closed the legal folder he had been reviewing.

"I had a feeling this wasn't an ordinary meeting." James smiled.

"It isn't." Anthony chuckled.

"I suspected as much." Everyone took their seats. Enzo folded his hands atop the desk.

"All right, James."

"You've had us waiting all day."

"What have you come up with?" James stood and slowly walked toward the large map hanging on the office wall.

"I've been thinking about the future."

"Specifically..."

"How we continue building private capital." Anthony crossed one leg over the other.

"You mean Vendetta Investments."

"Exactly." James nodded.

"My betting strategy still works."

"The problem isn't accuracy."

"The problem..."

"... is repetition." He turned toward them.

"If Grandpa and I keep traveling around the country collecting unusually large sportsbook winnings..."

"We'll eventually become recognizable." Anthony nodded immediately.

"A fair concern." James continued.

"So instead of repeating ourselves..."

"We build a system." Anthony adjusted his glasses.

"I'm listening." James picked up a pencil.

"Thompson Manufacturing already has employees traveling across the country." He wrote three headings. Quality Control Inspectors Regional Sales Representatives Procurement Agents Marcus wasn't present, but his recent reports had provided the information James needed.

"Our quality control inspectors routinely visit textile mills."

"Our sales representatives already travel to meet retailers."

"Our procurement agents negotiate with suppliers."

"They're already moving around the country."

"No one questions why." Anthony leaned forward.

"So..."

"You want one of them to place bets?"

"Occasionally." James answered calmly.

"Never frequently."

"Never the same employee."

"We rotate."

"Three."

"Perhaps four trusted individuals."

"No more." Anthony immediately interrupted.

"No." James blinked.

"No?" Anthony nodded firmly.

"Not like that."

"If you're thinking of simply handing someone cash and asking him to gamble..."

"I won't approve it."

"Too much liability."

"If something goes wrong..."

"The law is against us." James smiled.

"I agree." Anthony stopped.

"You... agree?"

"I wasn't finished." Anthony leaned back.

"Go on." James continued.

"The employee isn't gambling for himself."

"He's acting as an authorized private agent." Anthony remained silent. James continued.

"You draft an Agency Representation Agreement." Anthony's eyebrows rose slightly.

"It establishes that the employee is voluntarily representing a private investment company."

"Not Thompson Manufacturing."

"Not Grandpa personally."

"Vendetta Investments." Anthony slowly nodded. James continued.

"The agreement explains exactly why he's traveling."

"It defines his compensation."

"It limits his responsibilities."

"And once the assignment is completed..."

"So is the contract." Anthony quietly folded his arms.

"Continue."

"The employee receives a fixed three-thousand-dollar performance bonus."

"Regardless of whether he wins or loses."

"He's being paid for his time."

"Not because he gambled." Anthony looked genuinely impressed.

"Interesting." James continued.

"If the wager loses..."

"Vendetta records it as a failed speculative investment."

"If it wins..."

"The employee legally owns the check." Anthony interrupted again.

"And that's the next problem."

"He can't simply endorse that check to Vendetta."

"The bank won't allow it." James nodded.

"Correct."

"So we don't." Anthony waited. James walked toward the window before turning back.

"The employee opens his own personal checking account at Empire National Bank."

"Richard Bennett already knows Grandpa."

"He trusts him."

"Once the sportsbook check clears..."

"The employee transfers the money to Vendetta Investments under a Private Capital Participation Agreement." Anthony narrowed his eyes.

"A capital contribution."

"Exactly." Anthony remained quiet. James continued.

"The employee isn't hiding income."

"He's already received his contractual compensation."

"The remaining funds become a documented private investment into Vendetta." Anthony slowly rubbed his chin.

"The taxes?"

"The sportsbook already withholds what's legally required." James replied.

"The employee reports the transaction."

"Vendetta records the incoming capital."

"Everything is documented." Anthony looked thoughtful.

"And Thompson Manufacturing?"

"It never touches the money." James answered immediately.

"I don't want the factory anywhere near gambling proceeds."

"If anything ever happens..."

"I refuse to expose six hundred families because of my investments." The room became completely silent. Even Enzo hadn't expected that answer. Anthony finally smiled.

"There it is." James looked at him.

"What?"

"The answer I was hoping you'd give." Anthony closed his briefcase.

"I've been looking for the flaw in your proposal for the last fifteen minutes."

"Every time I found one..."

"... you solved it." He shook his head with a faint laugh.

"I honestly didn't expect that." Enzo smiled proudly.

"So?" Anthony looked toward him.

"I'll draft every document."

"But only under one condition." James raised an eyebrow.

"What condition?" Anthony smiled.

"We test it once."

"One employee."

"One transaction."

"If every bank record..."

"Every tax record..."

"And every legal document survives scrutiny..."

"Then..."

"We'll know we've built something sustainable." James extended his hand across the desk.

"I couldn't agree more." Anthony shook it firmly.

"Then we have a deal." Enzo looked at the two of them before smiling.

"Every week..."

"You two somehow manage to convince me that the impossible is becoming ordinary." James grinned.

"We're only getting started." Outside the office windows... The factory whistles announced the end of another workday. Inside... A new system had just been born. One that, if it worked exactly as intended... Would quietly finance James's future—without ever placing Thompson Manufacturing itself in danger.