A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 117

Right now, financial professionals were swarming around me.

Since I was a key figure in the Epicura incident, all the financial people attending the gala had gathered around to extract information from me.

But right in front of them, I had just made a bombshell declaration: "Theranos doesn't have a CFO."

The reaction was immediate.

Carson, standing next to me, was the first to ask.

"A CFO doesn’t exist?"

"It's still a startup…"

Sharma hastily tried to explain, but his words lacked persuasion.

"Theranos isn’t a company that just started, is it?"

A company can operate without a CFO only in the very early stages of a business.

But an 11-year-old company with over 800 employees running without a CFO?

To financial professionals, it was an absurd notion.

"Then who manages the investments?"

"Holmes and I…"

"But aren't you currently raising Series E funding?"

Someone, unable to hide their disbelief, asked.

Theranos was in the middle of a private equity round.

At this stage, investments become complex.

That's because the shares investors seek are different from common stocks that are bought and sold on the public market.

There were intricate conditions involved, such as liquidation preferences, anti-dilution protections, and dividend rights attached to preferred stock or convertible securities that could be converted into shares under specific conditions.

Negotiating these terms required a high level of expertise.

Yet, they were handling it with just a CEO and COO, without a CFO?

"Oh, then you must be using financial advisors. Which firm?"

That would have made sense.

Hiring investment banks or financial advisors was a common practice in these situations.

But Sharma’s voice grew even quieter.

"Well…"

Theranos hadn’t hired an investment bank.

For the same reason they hadn’t hired a CFO.

Bringing in experts would almost certainly lead to warnings that "this is a fraud," so they couldn’t afford to hire one.

"What the hell is this…?"

As the financial professionals expressed their incredulity, Sharma turned to me with a growl.

"You haven’t forgotten that you signed an NDA, have you?"

Due diligence participants were all required to sign an NDA (non-disclosure agreement).

It was a pledge not to leak any information learned during the due diligence process, and violations would incur liability for damages.

But I responded nonchalantly.

"The absence of a CFO is not confidential information. It was discovered during the investment discussions."

Normally, the CFO communicates with investors.

However, Theranos, lacking a CFO, had been handling investor relations through its IR team.

Therefore, this wasn't classified information uncovered during due diligence.

After stating my case, I furrowed my brows slightly, feigning frustration.

"But bringing up the NDA over something like this? That’s excessive."

Of course, I was bluffing.

In truth, I had expected this reaction from the start.

I had heard more than once that Sharma frequently used "NDA" and "lawsuit" as threats against employees.

But he had overlooked a crucial fact.

I wasn’t a Theranos employee.

More importantly, we weren’t alone here.

That made a huge difference.

I wasn’t a subordinate trembling at their threats.

I was someone looking to invest in exchange for equity—an investor.

And more than that…

"Are we really not allowed to have even a basic business discussion in a casual setting?"

Because this place was filled with other financial investors.

Carson, who had been listening to the conversation by my side, turned to Sharma with an irritated expression.

Just now, Sharma had effectively threatened an investor with an NDA.

Everyone here, including Carson, was an investor.

And in social gatherings like this, they freely exchanged business information.

For a company's COO to bring up an NDA over a single remark that wasn’t even a serious trade secret?

It wasn’t just my problem anymore.

Realizing his mistake too late, Sharma quickly tried to do damage control.

"Oh, I was just concerned because he’s still quite inexperienced. I was worried he might reveal sensitive information…"

He shot me a resentful glare, but I simply responded with a smile.

"No need to worry. I know how to exercise discretion. Ah! That reminds me—I have someone in mind for the CMO position."

I smoothly shifted the topic.

A CMO (Chief Medical Officer) was a crucial executive for a medical device company.

Sharma’s sharp gaze landed on me, but I widened my eyes and raised both hands.

"Oh, this isn’t an NDA violation either."

I hadn’t disclosed any secrets.

I never explicitly stated that Theranos lacked a CMO.

I had merely mentioned making a recommendation.

People might infer the CMO position was vacant, but my statement also left room for interpretation—perhaps it was just a replacement or a temporary vacancy.

In short, my words encouraged speculation without revealing any solid facts.

Just as Sharma glared at me in fury, a deep, low voice cut in.

"Thank you for your recommendation."

Turning my head, I saw Holmes standing there.

Instead of her usual turtleneck and black pants, she was wearing an elegant sleeveless turtleneck dress.

The contrast between her extremely feminine attire and her deep voice created a strange dissonance, adding to her mysterious aura.

‘Did they just switch players?'

Instead of Sharma, she had stepped into the ring.

Holmes's gaze settled on me.

With no trace of displeasure, she curved her eyes into a smile.

"Of course, we can’t hire someone just based on a recommendation. We’ll need to conduct thorough vetting."

She was politely accepting my recommendation, but at the same time, subtly implying that Theranos wouldn't just take in anyone.

In a roundabout way, she was questioning my credibility.

Soon, her eyes swept over Carson and the bewildered financial professionals.

"Now that we’ve come out of stealth mode, we’re restructuring our leadership team."

It was a sophisticated explanation.

Depending on how one interpreted it, she was saying they were reinforcing their executive team, including the CFO and CMO, as part of their new phase of growth.

‘She’s sharp when it comes to this kind of maneuvering.'

It wasn’t the truth, but coming from Holmes, it was difficult to refute.

Since the fact that the CFO position had been vacant for eight years was classified information from due diligence.

Holmes’s gaze returned to me.

With a warm smile, she spoke.

"Meeting you here is quite unexpected. What a surprise encounter."

The subtext was clear: Why did you ambush us without warning?

"I didn’t expect to see the two of you here either."

My response carried an implied message of its own: You didn’t inform me, so why would I inform you?

We exchanged polite smiles, but the tension between us was palpable to everyone around.

"Well then, I’ll take my leave. If I’ve caused any offense, I apologize."

With a light apology, I turned and walked away.

And so, I distanced myself from them and resumed networking.

But I noticed something peculiar—no matter where I went, Holmes was always within five steps of me.

She was eavesdropping on my conversations, seemingly ready to intervene if another situation like before occurred.

Well, the important thing was that Holmes was listening to me.

‘Should I throw out some bait while I have the chance?'

Deliberately raising my voice, I began extolling Theranos' technology.

"Theranos' technology is truly revolutionary. Conducting blood tests using capillary blood? Drawing blood from the fingertip carries a high risk of hemolysis. The impact causes red blood cells to rupture, raising potassium levels, but their technology has managed to solve that problem!"

Someone listening to my words raised a question.

"But if the red blood cells are already damaged during blood collection, can technology really correct that? Wouldn't potassium already be released at that point?"

"That’s exactly where the innovation lies! They made the impossible possible!"

I could talk about the technology as much as I wanted.

After all, they had kept everything a "trade secret," revealing nothing—so there was no way this could be an NDA violation.

While I enthusiastically spread the word about Theranos' unrealistic technological prowess, I also kept an ear on Holmes’s conversations with her acquaintances.

And that was when I discovered something interesting.

"How is your father doing these days?"

Holmes came from an elite family.

If attendees at a gala were inquiring about her parents, it strongly suggested that her family had been part of the upper class for generations.

The mystery surrounding Holmes was starting to unravel.

‘So that's how she managed this from the beginning.'

If Holmes had been just an ordinary middle-class white woman, things wouldn’t have escalated to this point.

But she was from the upper class, and she had strategically leveraged those elite connections to secure early investors.

Essentially, she had sold them a form of hedge—a safety net.

Some of the people who heard her pitch likely bought in lightly, treating it as a casual insurance policy.

In the startup world, the funding that circulates during a Series A round typically ranges from $200,000 to $2 million.

It might seem like a lot, but to high-profile individuals, it's pocket change—something they could casually toss her way just to support a friend's daughter.

However, what if those people were strategically selected?

What if she had intentionally drawn in only influential figures?

Then, she could have orchestrated the illusion that her company was a rising star catching the attention of industry giants.

It seemed that Holmes had succeeded in pulling off that illusion.

Prescott, whom I had met earlier, genuinely believed Holmes was a brilliant talent discovered by powerful figures.

‘She’s got talent.'

If only she had directed that talent toward actual technological development.

While I was musing over this, a soft chime rang through the room.

It was the signal that the main dinner was about to begin.

***

The ballroom, set for the gala dinner, was filled with dozens of round tables, each seating twelve guests, with name cards placed at every seat.

My assigned seat was far from Holmes.

Glancing toward her table, I saw it was filled with elderly figures with white hair.

They were Theranos' board members.

‘Holmes shouldn’t be seated there…'

Her stature wasn’t high enough to sit among such influential figures.

Clearly, someone on the board had insisted on securing her a spot at that table.

And I had a good guess as to who it was.

The person engaging in the most animated conversation with Holmes—former Secretary of State Schultz.

‘This just got trickier.'

I hadn't expected Holmes to be seated there.

Now, I would have to criticize Theranos right in front of her.

She wouldn’t stay silent, which would complicate things a bit…

But that was a problem for later.

For now, everyone was still settling into their assigned seats.

I had to wait for the live performances to begin before I could leave my seat.

That was also when I’d have the chance to approach the board.

No need to rush.

"I saw your broadcast!"

At my table were young entrepreneurs, nonprofit organization representatives, artists, and designers.

I engaged in conversation with them while enjoying the meal.

By the way, the food was excellent.

The grilled sea bass, in particular, was a masterpiece.

The crispy skin was packed with umami, and when lightly prodded with a fork, the tender flesh flaked apart perfectly, blending harmoniously with the sauce.

Normally, I wasn’t a fan of beurre blanc sauce, but it seemed they had added a special type of vinegar that introduced a refreshing acidity, cutting through the richness and enhancing the overall flavor.

Anyway, after dinner, the keynote speech began, followed by the announcement of the ‘Philanthropist of the Year' award.

Then, it was time for the auction.

"All proceeds from today’s auction will be donated to St. Jude Children’s Hospital. The first item up for bid is a rare vintage wine collection!"

"A luxurious dinner personally prepared and served by star chef Gordon Ramsay…"

Notable figures from various fields were making generous contributions, while wealthy patrons made extravagant donations.

In particular…

"A luxury mansion in Malibu! Featuring 12 bedrooms, 15 bathrooms, two infinity pools, a private home theater, and a private beach…"

"A premium yacht charter! Includes a sun deck, a fully equipped gym, and a salon with the latest entertainment system…"

The vacation home of a famous actor and the yacht of a well-known businessman piqued my interest.

Those weren’t things you could simply buy with money.

They were being offered for a limited-time use in the name of charity.

‘Should I join in?'

It wasn’t the right time for me to indulge in luxuries…

But this auction was part of a charity event.

Which meant that any money spent here was tax-deductible.

Rather than handing cash over to the government, wouldn’t it be better to enjoy something and get a tax break at the same time?

…That thought did cross my mind, but I quickly dismissed it.

The problem wasn’t money.

‘It’s not like I’d have time to use any of it.'

Realistically, owning such luxuries was meaningless to me.

Right now, even if I had five bodies, it wouldn’t be enough.

Managing my underground fund, taking down Theranos, and developing a cure—

Even if I won an auction, I had no time to take a vacation.

But just as I was about to let go of the idea of bidding—

Something completely unexpected appeared on the auction list.

"And next… a dinner with the legendary diplomat, Henry Kissinger. This is more than just a meal—it’s a rare opportunity to engage in direct conversation with a man who has shaped the course of global politics, and to gain insight from his wisdom and experience!"

Well now…

This just got interesting.