She ends them." Chairs scraped against marble floors as people rose in panic. Ming shot to his feet, his face now flushed with desperate anger. "You cannot do this." "The contracts are unsigned," Naomi cut him off, "and will remain so."
She turned to address the room. I suggest everyone check their phones. My team is releasing a statement to the press as we speak, along with recordings of tonight's entertainment. A chorus of notification chimes filled the air as if on cue. Phones emerged from pockets and purses like flowers blooming in fast motion.
The sound of multiple sharp intakes of breath followed. "You recorded us?" Ming's voice cracked. "That's illegal." In China, yes, Naomi agreed, but in international business meetings, my company's policy is to maintain complete records for transparency.
It's clearly stated in our preliminary agreements, the ones you clearly didn't bother to read carefully. Another mistake. She began walking toward the door, her heels clicking against marble in the stunned silence. Oh, and Mr. Zhao, she turned back. The next time you want to insult someone, you might want to check their credentials first.
MIT has an excellent international program. The room erupted into chaos behind her. Voices raised in multiple languages, Mandarin, English, French, German, all with the same note of panic. $700 million were evaporating like morning dew, and with them countless careers and reputations. In the grand foyer, Kiana was waiting with Naomi's coat. Her assistant's eyes were bright with barely contained excitement.
Her phone already buzzing continuously in her hand. Car's ready, Kiana said, holding the coat open. And the press release went live 2 minutes ago. It's already trending. They walked out into the cool Beijing night, leaving the sounds of disorder behind them.
The garden's carefully arranged stones and trees seemed to bow in the evening breeze, as if acknowledging their passage. The limousine door closed with a solid thunk, sealing them in climate-controlled quiet. Kiana's phone continued to vibrate, headlines flashing across its screen faster than she could read them. Ellison Global cancels major Chinese merger. Shock at Zhao Industries dinner, deal collapses.
Breaking, racist remarks torpedo $700 million energy deal. Through the tinted windows, the Jiao estate's lights grew smaller, its perfectly manicured grounds receding into the darkness. Naomi watched it disappear, her face illuminated by the passing streetlights. Each flash revealing the same composed expression she'd worn all evening. Social media is exploding, Kiana reported, scrolling through her feeds.
The recording is everywhere. CNN is calling for comment, so is Bloomberg. The Wall Street Journal wants an exclusive. She looked up. What should I tell them?
Naomi continued staring out the window, watching Beijing's modern skyline rise before them. All glass and steel and ambition. "Good," she said simply. "Let them talk." In the reflection of the window, she could see her own face superimposed over the city lights, clear-eyed, unshaken, exactly as her mother had taught her to be.
In her mind, she could hear her mother's voice. Baby, sometimes the biggest victory is just walking away with your head high. The limousine glided through the night, carrying them toward the airport where the company jet waited. Behind them, an empire built on arrogance was learning an expensive lesson about underestimating the wrong person. Ahead, headlines were spreading across the globe, carrying not just news of a failed deal, but a message about power, respect, and the cost of casual cruelty.
The Beijing sunrise painted the city in shades of amber and gold, but Naomi had been awake long before dawn. She stood at her hotel suite's floor-to-ceiling windows, watching digital stock tickers scroll across the sides of skyscrapers. Ellison Global's stock was flashing in angry red, down 12% and falling. Below, a swarm of reporters clustered around the hotel's main entrance like anxious bees. Security guards formed a human barrier, keeping the press at bay.
Camera flashes punctuated the morning light even from 30 floors up. They're saying it's the biggest deal collapse in clean energy history, Kiana said from her position at the suite's dining table, surrounded by tablets and laptops. She hadn't slept either. Her usually pristine blazer was slightly wrinkled, coffee cups scattered around her workstation. Chinese social media is split between outrage and well, more outrage.
But Western outlets are calling it a watershed moment for corporate accountability. Naomi's phone buzzed again. The 20th call from David Levin in the past hour. She'd been ignoring them all, but this time she picked up. The video call connected, revealing her CFO's face flushed with barely contained fury.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" David's voice crackled through the speaker. His usually perfectly combed hair was disheveled, his collar askew. The board is in chaos. Our investors are panicking.
You humiliated them. "Good morning to you too, David." Naomi's tone was winter cold. I trust you've seen the recording? Of course I've seen it.
Everyone has seen it. But you can't tank a $700 deal over a few racist comments. "A few racist comments?" Naomi's eyebrow arched. Is that what we're calling it now?
And here I thought you were the one who taught me about protecting shareholder value through reputation management. David's face reddened further. This isn't about reputation. This is about He stopped, seeming to catch himself. Look, we can still salvage this.
Ming's father is willing to meet. We can renegotiate. Interesting timing for that suggestion, Naomi cut in. Speaking of negotiations, would you care to explain why new patent transfer clauses appeared in the contract overnight? The ones that weren't in the version I reviewed on the flight?
David blinked rapidly, his hand reaching up to adjust his tie. "There must be some mistake. Perhaps a translation error." In a contract drafted by our own legal team? Naomi's voice was dangerously soft.
"Try again, David." I I'll have to check with legal. But Naomi, please, just focus on the bigger picture here. The board meeting is in 4 hours, and they're going to want answers. Oh, they'll get answers.
Naomi ended the call mid-sentence, turning to Kiana. "What did you find?" Kiana's fingers flew across her keyboard, pulling up a complex web of financial diagrams. It took all night, but I found it. The new patent clauses?
They're connected to a series of shell companies registered in the Cayman Islands. She highlighted a particular node in the network. This one was established 3 weeks ago, right after our first meeting with Zhao Industries. And guess who's listed as the beneficial owner? "Ming," Naomi said, not as a question.
Through six layers of corporate veils, but yes. Kiana pulled up another document. The clauses would have given them backdoor access to our core solar panel technology. They could have replicated our entire production line within 6 months. Naomi moved to stand behind Kiana, studying the diagrams.
Years of experience reading financial structures let her see the theft attempt hidden in the legitimate-looking paperwork. It was elegant in its complexity, she had to admit. If she hadn't caught Ming's insult, if she hadn't killed the deal, they weren't just trying to partner with us, she said quietly. They were planning to gut us. Take our technology, replicate it cheaper, and push us out of the Asian market entirely.
She straightened up, smoothing her jacket. And someone on our side helped them set it up. David? Kiana asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer. The timing of the contract changes, the rushed closing schedule, the way he's pushing to salvage the deal even after what happened.