Urban God of Rebate: Infinite Returns Of Women And Powers

She told him.

He looked at the profile in his notes. A forty-eight year old former colleague of Rachel’s who had invested in the seed round. He’d been the least certain of the seventeen from the beginning, his notes flagged as hold with moderate confidence.

”What did Meridian say to him,” said Sean.

”We don’t know exactly,” said Clara. ”He called Rachel and said he needed more time to think.”

”I’ll call him,” said Sean.

A brief pause. ”Sean. He’s not a shareholder you have a relationship with. He doesn’t know who you are.”

”Rachel can introduce me,” said Sean. ”Ten minutes.”

”You think ten minutes is enough,” she said.

”Depends what he’s actually worried about,” said Sean. ”Send me everything Max has on his professional history. I want to read it before I call.”

She sent it in five minutes.

He read it in eight.

Then he called Rachel and explained what he needed.

Rachel called the shareholder, whose name was Greg Sullivan, while Sean waited. Three minutes later Rachel texted him a number.

He called it.

Greg answered cautiously, the specific caution of someone who had just been in two separate conversations about the same subject and wasn’t sure which direction this one was coming from.

”Greg,” said Sean. ”My name is Sean Miller. I’m a shareholder in Vertex. Rachel thought it might be helpful for us to talk.”

”What did Meridian say to you,” said Greg.

Direct. Sean liked that.

”They haven’t contacted me,” said Sean. ”I’m too small to be worth their communications budget right now.”

A brief surprised sound. ”Then why are you calling.”

”Because you called Rachel and said you needed more time to think,” said Sean. ”And I want to understand what you’re thinking about.”

A pause. ”That’s a strange reason to call someone.”

”Probably,” said Sean. ”What did Meridian say.”

Greg was quiet for a moment. Then: ”They said the board vote was three to two and that two independent directors had endorsed acceptance privately and that the company’s long-term growth prospects without additional capital were uncertain.”

”Which is technically accurate,” said Sean.

”Yes,” said Greg. ”That’s what’s bothering me.”

”The funding round,” said Sean.

”Vertex needs capital in the next six months,” said Greg. ”I know that. I’m not a naive investor. If the acquisition falls through and the funding round doesn’t close, what’s the scenario.”

Sean thought about the honest answer rather than the reassuring one.

”The scenario is difficult,” he said. ”Not terminal. Difficult. The company’s fundamentals are strong enough that a funding round is achievable, but it’s not guaranteed and it’s not going to be easy right after a failed hostile acquisition attempt.”

”So there’s real risk,” said Greg.

”Yes,” said Sean.

”That’s not what Thomas and Clara have been saying,” said Greg.

”They’ve been emphasizing the upside appropriately,” said Sean. ”The risk is also real. I’m not going to tell you otherwise.”

A longer silence.

”Then why are you voting no,” said Greg.

”Because the risk of staying independent is real but bounded,” said Sean. ”The company can address it. A difficult funding round is a solvable problem. What happens to Vertex inside Meridian’s structure is not a solvable problem. That outcome is determined and the determination is bad for the product, bad for the clients, and bad for the team.”

”You sound very certain,” said Greg.

”I’ve looked at twelve previous acquisitions in detail,” said Sean. ”Certainty is the wrong word. Pattern recognition is more accurate.”

Greg was quiet for a while.

”How old are you,” he said.

”Eighteen,” said Sean.

A pause that was different from the others, not the recalibration pause or the disbelief pause but something more thoughtful.

”I was twenty-four when I invested my first real money in something that wasn’t guaranteed,” said Greg. ”Everyone told me I was too young to be making decisions like that.”

”Were they right,” said Sean.

”No,” said Greg. ”But they weren’t entirely wrong either. I lost some of it. The part I kept led to everything after.”

Sean said nothing.

”What’s your position in Vertex,” said Greg.

”Four point one percent and increasing,” said Sean.

”Increasing how much,” said Greg.

”I haven’t set a ceiling,” said Sean.

Greg made a sound that was close to a laugh. ”That’s either very confident or very reckless.”

”Probably both,” said Sean. ”I’m eighteen.”

This time Greg actually laughed. Brief and genuine.

”I’m going to hold,” he said. ”Not because you convinced me the risk isn’t real. Because you told me the risk was real and then explained why it was the better risk anyway.” He paused. ”Most people in this situation tell you everything is fine.”

”Everything isn’t fine,” said Sean. ”The situation has a better outcome available if the right people make the right decision. That’s different from fine.”

”Yes,” said Greg. ”It is.” He paused. ”Tell Rachel I’m a no. She’ll know what it means.”

He hung up.

Sean texted Rachel immediately.

Greg is holding.

She replied in thirty seconds.

How.

Told him the truth, said Sean.

A pause. Then: Radical approach. Another pause. Thank you Sean.

He texted Clara.

Seventeen still seventeen. The count is locked.

Clara replied: I know. Rachel just called me. She was crying a little. Don’t tell her I told you that.

I won’t, said Sean.

Sean, she said.

Yeah.

Good work this week, she said. Simply. The direct version, nothing layered.

You too, he said.

He put his phone in his pocket and sat with the Friday evening settling around him.

=======================

Saturday came with the particular quality Saturdays had when something significant had been moving all week and had arrived somewhere stable. Not done. Just stable.

He texted Olivia in the morning.

Still on for tonight.

Yes, she replied instantly. I’ll send the address at five. Wear something comfortable. Nothing impressive. We’re being normal people tonight.

I can do that, said Sean.

I’m unconvinced, said Olivia. But I’m choosing to trust you.

He smiled at his phone.

He spent the morning doing nothing in particular, which was its own kind of recovery from a week that had been most things except nothing in particular. He read. He made proper coffee rather than the functional kind. He went downstairs and had breakfast with Makima which was eggs and something with peppers and a conversation that moved through several places without urgency.