Chapter 196
Chapter 196
"We provide the core. You define the style."
In the audience, a financial commentator who'd been one of the harshest critics was now holding up his phone, recording intently, muttering to himself, "So that's it... this isn't just a product anymore. It's an ecosystem. A platform..."
Finally, Theodore took the stage.
He said only two things.
"First, all of FutureNest's core technology patents will be open for licensing starting today to any qualified home design or appliance company. Together, we'll build this brand."
"Second, the Prescott Group is establishing a three-billion-dollar fund to support startups developing on the FutureNest platform."
The room exploded.
If Yasmin's speech had ignited market enthusiasm, Theodore's announcement was a bomb dropped straight into the center.
This wasn't just a company product launch anymore—it was the birth of a new industry standard.
After the event, those fund managers who'd been playing wait-and-see swarmed Theodore, Yasmin, and Jett like sharks scenting blood.
"Mr. Prescott, when does the next funding round open?"
"Ms. White, your design philosophy is incredible! We're invested in a home brand that would love to collaborate with you!"
"Mr. Lawson, about the licensing details..."
Ryan stood outside the crowd, watching the three of them surrounded at the center. Suddenly, all those earlier worries about the stock drop seemed laughable.
---
Six months later, Milan.
The international design world's highest honor—the "Milan Light" Lifetime Achievement Award ceremony—was being held at La Scala Opera House.
When the presenter, a white-haired Italian design legend, pronounced the name "Yasmin White" in his heavy accent, the entire room went silent for a beat.
Too young.
This award had always gone to established masters well past sixty. Yasmin wasn't even thirty.
But then applause crashed like a wave.
Because everyone knew she deserved it.
Over the past year, starting with FutureNest, she'd sparked a design revolution that swept the globe. Her concepts of "invisible design" and "emotional aesthetics" had been written into textbooks at the world's top design schools. She'd shown the world that Eastern design wasn't just about stacking elements—it was an entirely new philosophical approach.
Yasmin wore a black gown she'd designed herself, walking onto the stage step by step.
Under the spotlight, she was poised. Elegant.
Her acceptance speech was brief.
"Thank you. This honor doesn't belong only to me. It belongs to a rising era. To a belief that design can change the world."
She didn't thank anyone by name, but her gaze cut through the brilliant lights and surging crowd, landing precisely on the man in the front row.
Theodore sat there. He wasn't clapping excitedly like those around him. He simply watched her, his gaze focused and tender, as if the entire world had narrowed to that one person on stage.
The moment was caught on camera and broadcast live on the big screen.
The next day, global media headlines featured not only Yasmin's award but a candid photo.
In it, the man's handsome profile was sharply defined under the opera house lights. He looked at the radiant woman on stage with love and pride so full it seemed to spill off the screen.
The caption was simple: "He looks at her like she's his religion."
---
On the private jet home.
Yasmin leaned against the window, watching the sea of clouds roll past outside, turning the heavy crystal trophy over in her hands.
Theodore finished an email and sat down beside her.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Wondering if I'm the first designer to bring home a lifetime achievement award and still have to pay a mortgage." Yasmin half-joked.
Theodore took the trophy from her hands and set it aside. Then he held her hand.
"You don't have to pay it anymore."
"Hm?"
"The Prescott Group has officially submitted IPO applications to the Hong Kong Stock Exchange and NASDAQ." His voice was calm but carried unshakable force. "One-year counseling period. If all goes well, this time next year, your net worth will need recalculating."
Yasmin froze.
She knew the Prescott Group had been expanding. She knew FutureNest's success had multiplied the company's valuation several times over. But she hadn't realized the IPO plan was already in motion.
"When... did you decide this?"
"In Milan." Theodore looked at her. "The moment I saw you on that stage."
He'd suddenly realized the business empire he'd built needed a bigger stage—one worthy of Yasmin's brilliance.
He wanted the entire world to know that Theodore's wife wasn't just an artist at the pinnacle of design—she would also be the most dazzling queen in global capital markets.
Yasmin looked into his deep eyes. Her heart stirred.
Outside the window, a red sun burst through the sea of clouds, painting the horizon a magnificent gold.
The plane cut through the clouds, flying steadily eastward.
A new era had begun.
---
News that the Prescott Group planned a dual listing on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange and NASDAQ didn't create ripples—it created tidal waves.
Milan's glow hadn't faded. The public hadn't fully absorbed Yasmin's identity as "the queen's architect," and already this commercial aircraft carrier was pivoting toward deeper waters.
The market went wild.
FutureNest's success had made the Prescott Group's valuation model complex and full of possibility.
Now this game-changer was entering global capital markets. Everyone wanted a piece.
Offers from major investment banks and funds practically flooded the Prescott Group's inbox.
Everything seemed natural. Inevitable.
Until a week later, when the first discordant note appeared.
The first strike came from an obscure overseas financial publication—a deep-dive analysis with an inflammatory headline: "The Prescott Group's Castle in the Sky: A Capital Bubble Inflated by the FutureNest Myth."
The article, written in extremely professional language, raised sharp questions about the Prescott Group's IPO prospects from angles like financial modeling, supply chain stability, and core technology barriers.
It suggested FutureNest's profit margins were exaggerated, that its open platform model posed massive intellectual property risks, and vaguely referenced some of the Prescott Group's early acquisitions, implying the financial statements had been "excessively beautified."
The article was a precision depth charge.
At first, it didn't attract much mainstream attention.
But soon, Wall Street analysts began sharing and commenting on social media. Short-seller fund managers started chiming in.
Public opinion, quietly and subtly, began to shift.
---
In the top-floor office.
Ryan's expression was grim as he placed a printed report on Theodore's desk.
"Boss, this wasn't random. There's a professional short-selling operation pushing this article. They've bought off media, organized analysts—they're systematically attacking our market credibility."
Theodore scanned the report, eyes landing on several circled names and institutions.
"Also," Ryan's voice dropped lower, "our underwriting team discovered a mysterious offshore fund building short positions against us through multiple accounts in the derivatives market. Not huge volume, but very deliberate. Like they're testing us. Or making a statement."
Theodore's fingers drummed lightly on the desk. The only sound in the office.
"Remnants of the Locke Group?" he asked, tone even.
"Nine out of ten." Ryan nodded. "They don't have the firepower alone. There's international vulture capital behind them. Our IPO plan stepped on too many toes. Reopened too many old wounds."
Theodore said nothing more, just looked out at the forest of skyscrapers.
A war without gunfire had begun.
The enemy's objective was clear: during this critical pre-IPO period, manufacture panic, suppress market expectations, drive down the Prescott Group's offering price. Once the Prescott Group went public below expected valuation, they'd profit in the secondary market while thoroughly humiliating Theodore.
This was capital's stranglehold.
Insidious. Lethal.