My decision to veto Nebula Tech's investment plan, like a massive stone thrown into water, caused enormous waves of turmoil within their company.

The failed financing meant that this already precarious enterprise would soon face a broken capital chain. Panic spread quickly, rumors of layoffs circulated everywhere, and infighting and blame-shifting became daily office routines. Jack, as the person directly responsible for this financing failure, became the scapegoat for the entire company, thrown under the bus by the board of directors.


They gave him an ultimatum: within one week, by whatever means necessary, he must persuade Vision Capital to reconsider. Otherwise, he would not only be immediately fired but also face massive liability claims from the company.

I knew this had pushed him to the edge. And a person driven to desperation will abandon all dignity.

Sure enough, three days later, my assistant transferred a call. Mr. Jack Jackson wished to have a private meeting with CEO Ms. Emily Winston.


"Tell him I have fifteen minutes tomorrow at three o'clock," I instructed softly into the intercom.

After hanging up, I picked up my coffee and gazed at the forest of skyscrapers outside the window. I knew that this meeting I had been anticipating for so long was finally about to happen. This was the stage of judgment I had meticulously prepared for him.


At two fifty the next afternoon, Jack appeared punctually at the reception of Vision Capital. He had obviously dressed carefully, wearing his best suit with his hair impeccably combed, trying to maintain his last shred of dignity. But through the office surveillance, I could see that when he walked into our company's lobby, which resembled that of a luxury hotel, the uneasiness and inferiority in his eyes could not be concealed. He looked at those hurried, well-dressed employees like a lost lamb who had wandered into a wolf den.

The assistant showed him into my office.

When that heavy wooden door closed behind him, when he finally saw clearly that the person sitting behind that huge desk was me, all the carefully feigned composure on his face instantly crumbled.

"Emily... how... how is it you?" He stammered incoherently, his pupils dilated with shock, his mouth hanging open.

I smiled, not a mocking, caustic smile, but a genuine, purely joyful one. I elegantly raised my hand, gesturing for him to sit.

"Long time no see, Jack," my voice was soft, with a touch of perfect detachment. "Or should I call you, Mr. Jackson?"

Like a marionette, he stiffly sat down in the chair opposite me. That chair was prepared for top-tier business partners, yet he looked so out of place sitting in it, not knowing where to put his hands or feet.

"You... you are Vision Capital's... CEO?" He was still processing this fact that was too shocking for him.

"Is there a problem?" I picked up my coffee and took a gentle sip. The hot liquid slid down my throat, bringing a comfortable warmth. I looked at him leisurely, watching as his expression changed from shock to confusion, then to a sickly flush of humiliation creeping across his face.

He finally came to his senses, remembering that he was here today to ask for help. His body immediately deflated, his pitiful dignity crushed to pieces by reality.

"Amy... Emily," he switched back to the name, his voice taking on a pleading tone, "I... I didn't know it was you. For what happened before, I was wrong, I was a jerk, I apologize to you. But... but the company is innocent, could you... give us another chance?"

He began to eloquently explain his business plan, defend the "rationality" of those figures, and promise a bright future. He spoke rapidly and anxiously, with fine beads of sweat seeping from his forehead, like a desperate gambler showing me his last pathetic chips.

I didn't interrupt him, just maintained a faint smile throughout and listened quietly.

Looking at him, what floated into my mind was that sunny afternoon three years ago. I had just received my acceptance letter from Wharton Business School and excitedly told him about it. He, however, frowned and said to me, "Emily, what's the use of so much education? Women ultimately have to focus on family life. Come to New York with me, I'll support you."

"I'll support you"—these words, once the sweetest promise in the world, now seemed like the most vicious curse I'd ever heard. In the name of love, they broke your wings, and then, when you could no longer fly, despised you for not being graceful enough.

"Have you finished speaking?" I asked leisurely only after he finally stopped and looked at me, gasping for breath.

He was stunned for a moment, then nodded desperately.

I stood up and, without looking at him again, slowly walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window. My office had the best view in the entire building, overlooking half of Manhattan. Those skyscrapers that once seemed so unreachable to me now sprawled beneath my feet.

With my back to him, I looked at the cars outside that resembled matchboxes and said softly: "Jack, what you looked down upon back then wasn't me, but your own abilities that couldn't match your ambition."

His breathing suddenly halted.

"You desire success, but you're not willing to put in the hard work; you desire wealth, but you lack the courage to take risks. You place all your hopes in taking shortcuts, whether through marriage or through a business plan filled with lies. Your biggest problem is that after deceiving everyone else, you've even started to believe your own lies."

I turned around and met his eyes, which were filled with shock and shame.

"As for investment," I walked back to my desk, the last trace of a smile vanishing from my face, replaced by the absolute coldness of a CEO, "I never invest money in a team whose leader would deceive even their partner."

After saying this, I pressed the intercom button. My assistant's crisp voice immediately came through: "CEO Emily, what can I do for you?"

"Security department?" My voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached every corner of the office. "There's a visitor in my office who has no business with our company. Please send two people up to escort him out."

Jack's face instantly drained of all color.

Two minutes later, two tall and sturdy security guards appeared at the door. Without saying a word, they "lifted" Jack, who had collapsed in his chair, one on each side, and dragged him out like a piece of garbage.

The office door closed again, and the world returned to silence.

I sat back in my leather chair, turned around, and continued to admire the view outside the window. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed Liam's number.

"Liam, it's me." My voice was calm and steady, as if discussing today's weather. "We can proceed with the hostile acquisition of Nebula Tech's core algorithm patent. Have our shell company make the move."

After a moment of silence on the other end, Liam's voice came through with a hint of amusement: "How much are we offering?"

Looking at the fading sunset outside the window, I delivered the final judgment for Jack and his ridiculous company.

"The offer is five hundred thousand," I paused, then added, "Yes, dollars."