Chapter 78: Vanderbilt’s Apology

June 22, Tuesday morning.

Brilliant morning sunlight poured through the office window.

Lee Jun-hyuk was reviewing documents.

La Choy’s first Chicago shipment was just two days away.

He needed to check the final status of the preparations.

1,000 cans of canned goods, 50 wooden crates for packaging, and 2 long-distance transport trucks.

Numbers and images quickly flashed through his mind.

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

The door opened and Mary entered.

She held a memo in her hand, and her expression looked subtly tense.

“President, you just received a call.”

“Who was it?”

“He said he was William Vanderbilt III. He’ll call again soon…”

Vanderbilt?

Lee Jun-hyuk raised his head from the documents.

A director of the American Sugar Trading Company, and a giant of New York’s social circles.

What could this be about?

Usually, they only met at formal board meetings.

Just then, the phone rang sharply.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Lee, this is Vanderbilt.”

A dignified, powerful voice came through the receiver.

But unlike his usual hearty tone, something about it sounded subdued.

“Hello, Mr. Vanderbilt. It’s been a while.”

“I’ll get straight to the point. First, I must offer you an apology.”

An apology? Lee Jun-hyuk blinked in surprise.

“I heard that my nephew Jonathan was extremely rude last Saturday. Chloe called me last night and told me everything.”

Ah, so it was about that.

Jonathan Vanderbilt, thirty years old.

That arrogant young man Lee Jun-hyuk met at Chloe’s home turned out to be Vanderbilt’s nephew.

“It was nothing. Please don’t worry about it.”

“Nothing? I’ve heard how disgraceful and narrow-minded that foolish boy behaved.”

A deep sigh sounded over the line.

“I called that troublemaker nephew to my house yesterday and gave him a serious scolding, but still, as the adult, I thought it was right for me to apologize to you personally.”

“Really, it’s fine.”

Lee Jun-hyuk replied, but Vanderbilt ignored him.

“No, this concerns the honor of the Vanderbilt family. So tomorrow, let’s have lunch together. My treat, at Delmonico’s.”

There was no reason to refuse.

Rather, it was a golden opportunity to form a personal connection with the top tier of New York society.

“I’d be honored. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Then let’s meet at noon tomorrow. Ah, and…”

Vanderbilt paused for a moment.

“I hope things go very well with Miss Catherine. It seems Chloe is quite fond of you.”

The call ended.

Lee Jun-hyuk set down the receiver and fell into thought for a moment.

William Vanderbilt himself had called to apologize.

He must have given Jonathan a thorough dressing-down.

“Was it good news, President?”

Mary lingered at the door, asking cautiously with a face full of curiosity.

“In a way, yes.”

That afternoon, Yu Ilhan returned from the Brooklyn factory.

His shirt was soaked with sweat.

In June, the factory was like a furnace from the boiler’s heat.

But his face was bright.

“President, the 1,200 cans for Chicago are fully ready.”

“1,200 cans? I only asked for 1,000.”

“I prepared an extra 200 as a reserve, just in case of any unexpected accidents. Some could be damaged during transport.”

It was Yu Ilhan’s ever-meticulous foresight.

“And transportation?”

“Two trucks will depart at 6 a.m. tomorrow. Already secured, and with the most reputable transport company.”

“Excellent. Perfect.”

Lee Jun-hyuk nodded in satisfaction.

At precisely 3 p.m., Thomas Green appeared as always, carrying a thick ledger.

“This is the financial statement up to this month.”

Thomas opened the ledger.

The neatly organized numbers in elegant handwriting looked like works of art in themselves.

“La Choy Food’s monthly sales have already surpassed $220,000. We’ve exceeded our annual goal by 200%—an incredible achievement.”

“What about when the Chicago shipment is added?”

“Even conservatively, we can expect to break $350,000 in July.”

Numbers he couldn’t have dreamed of just three months ago.

“And the radio station?”

“Advertising revenue keeps growing. The deficit is down to $500 a month. By next month, we’re guaranteed to turn a profit.”

Lee Jun-hyuk looked out the window.

Fifth Avenue was still bustling as ever.

New York, 1920.

He stood at the very center of an era exploding with growth and change.

“And the stocks…”

Thomas continued.

“Since you began purchasing, the total portfolio yield has already exceeded 5%. Especially, RCA’s upward trend is remarkable.”

“As expected.”

RCA (Radio Corporation of America)—with the dawn of the Radio Era, it was the goose that would lay golden eggs for years to come.

That evening, Lee Jun-hyuk returned to the Plaza Hotel. As he passed through the lobby, the front desk clerk called him.

“Mr. Lee, there’s a message for you.”

It was from Catherine.

“Hope you had another safe and wonderful day. – CM”

It was a short message, but it melted away the day’s fatigue and warmed his heart.

He went up to his room and immediately made a call.

“Catherine?”

“Jun-hyuk! It’s good to hear your voice.”

Her tone was bright.

“I heard Mr. Vanderbilt called you—my aunt told me.”

“Yes, I’m having lunch with him tomorrow.”

“I’m so sorry about Jonathan… I should have warned you ahead of time.”

“It’s alright. Thanks to that, I now have a good chance to meet Mr. Vanderbilt personally.”

Catherine let out a relieved sigh.

“I’m glad. Uncle William is a truly wonderful man. Completely different from Jonathan.”

“You haven’t forgotten our Friday promise, have you?”

“Of course not. It’s the most important promise in my life.”

“Are you still keeping the destination a secret?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Alright. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

After hanging up, Lee Jun-hyuk soaked himself in hot water.

What sort of conversation would tomorrow’s meeting with Vanderbilt bring?

He tried opening a book, but his mind kept wandering. The first response from Chicago, the summer trip to Cuba, and the December visit to Pyongyang.

He turned off the lights and closed his eyes.

The sound of car horns from outside the window grew faint. New York was the city that never slept, but tonight, he wanted to fall into a deep slumber.

Tomorrow would be another important day.

The next morning.

He woke up early.

The eastern sky was stained crimson.

After shaving, he carefully chose his suit.

A black suit, and a blue tie that gave a sense of trust. He didn’t look bad in the mirror.

Breakfast was simple: toast and coffee.

The newspaper’s front page featured a massive headline: Warren Harding of the Republican Party had been nominated as presidential candidate.

He arrived at the office at 9.

“President, the two delivery trucks for Chicago departed safely just now.”

Robert reported.

His expression was as solemn as a general sending troops on their first campaign.

“Let’s hope they arrive safely.”

“Don’t worry. The drivers we hired are America’s best veterans.”

He spent the morning doing paperwork.

La Choy’s July production plans, new radio station advertising contracts, and a quarterly report from Cuba.

Jose had sent it, and the second quarter’s performance had far exceeded expectations.

At 11:30, it was time to leave for Delmonico’s.

When he arrived at the Delmonico’s Restaurant, Vanderbilt was already seated by the window, smoking a cigar.

“Mr. Lee!”

Vanderbilt stood and extended his hand.

His handshake was large, warm, and full of strength.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No, I just arrived early. Since today is for my apology, I certainly couldn’t be late.”

He carefully pressed out his cigar in the ashtray.

They sat.

“Bring the course menu. The best the restaurant has today,” Vanderbilt ordered the waiter.

“Now, once again, let me formally apologize. Because of my foolish nephew…”

He shook his head sincerely.

“Really, it’s alright. Just a youthful mistake.”

“Youth isn’t an excuse for everything. Especially prejudice and discrimination—those are evils our society must root out.”

Vanderbilt’s voice was firm.

“Honestly… when I heard about the Bancroft incident, I was delighted. That dreadful racist finally landed in jail!”

“I was just lucky.”

Lee Jun-hyuk answered modestly.

“Lucky? Ha!”

Vanderbilt laughed so loudly it filled the restaurant.

“People say that, but those who know, know the truth. Mr. Lee, you were meticulous and bold in bringing him down.”

As they ate oysters for the appetizer, Vanderbilt lowered his voice.

“In truth, my mother was a Sicilian immigrant.”

It was an unexpected confession.

“Outwardly, I am every bit a Vanderbilt, but half my blood is Italian. That’s why I was even more angry. Hearing Jonathan discriminate against you felt like someone was looking down on my younger self.”

With those words, Lee Jun-hyuk saw Vanderbilt in a new light.

Soup arrived.

Rich lobster bisque.

“By the way, do you have any good investment information lately? I’d like to trust your insight, Mr. Lee.”

The topic naturally shifted to business.

“I recommend RCA stock.”

“RCA? Hasn’t it already risen enough?”

“No. The Radio Era has only just begun. Within five years, every household in the United States will have a radio.”

Vanderbilt nodded, eyes serious.

“And please… share this information with George Howard and Frank Gould as well. Good information should be shared with trusted partners.”

“Excellent!”

Vanderbilt sincerely admired him.

“Most people are desperate to keep good tips to themselves, but Mr. Lee, you have a truly generous spirit.”

The main course steak arrived.

“Mr. Lee, you’re a truly special person. Not just a businessman who makes money, but a man who knows how to win hearts.”

“You flatter me.”

“No flattery at all. George and Frank both hold you in the highest regard. Especially during the Ponzi Scheme—if you hadn’t warned us, we all would have suffered huge losses.”

It was true. Thanks to Lee Jun-hyuk’s warning, all the American Sugar Trading Company board members had avoided the Ponzi Scheme disaster.

“It was just a businessman’s instinct.”

“That instinct saved us all.”

As they ate dessert, Vanderbilt asked,

“So, how are things with Miss Catherine? I hear Chloe’s taken quite a liking to you. I thought she’d oppose you to the bitter end at first.”

“I’m grateful.”

“It’s surely not just about money. Chloe is a very good judge of character.”

Lunch finished, they left the restaurant.

“I’ll tell George and Frank about RCA immediately,” Vanderbilt said, extending his hand.

“And someday, I’ll formally invite you to the Union Club. A man like you belongs among its members.”

Union Club.

New York’s finest and most exclusive social club. Becoming a member meant that an immigrant businessman was officially recognized as part of New York’s elite.

“That would be an incomparable honor.”

“Then, see you at the next board meeting.”

After Vanderbilt’s car departed, Lee Jun-hyuk returned to his office.

At 4 p.m., the phone rang.

It was Frank Gould.

“Mr. Lee! I just heard from William. About RCA. Are you really confident?”

“Radio will change the world. I’m certain of it.”

“Good! I’ll go in big on your word! Thank you so much for sharing such a good tip. We’re a team now.”

The call ended, and soon the phone rang again.

It was George Howard.

“Mr. Lee, I heard about RCA. During Ponzi, and now again… You’re truly the good fortune of our board.”

Evening fell.

Lee Jun-hyuk gazed out the window.

The sun slanted westward, drenching New York’s buildings in gold.

Everything was going well.

A firm bond of trust with the board members.

This would be his greatest asset, more precious than anything else, when the Great Depression struck in 1929.

The phone rang again.

It was Catherine.

“Jun-hyuk, how was lunch with Mr. Vanderbilt?”

“It was wonderful. He’s a truly outstanding man.”

“I’m so glad. He really is nothing like Jonathan.”

“I hope the Chicago shipment goes smoothly tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“And about Friday…”

“Yes, I’m counting the days.”

After hanging up, Lee Jun-hyuk organized his documents.

By tomorrow, he would receive Chicago’s first response to La Choy. And next week, he would leave for Cuba.

Everything was moving swiftly, just as planned.