Chapter 197
Chapter 197
"Notify Legal and Finance. Every acquisition, financial statement, and tax record since the company's founding—comb through all of it again. Every data point needs to be traceable. Every process needs to be flawless." Theodore's voice held no emotion. "Also, contact the law firm and Goldman Sachs' top anti-hostile-takeover team. I want them in First Landing within twenty-four hours."
Ryan's heart jolted.
Legal firepower, Goldman Sachs finance—this was Wall Street's most elite "luxury defense package." Theodore was going head-to-head.
"Understood." Ryan turned immediately to execute.
The office door opened. Yasmin walked in.
She'd just finished a video call with European designers, tablet still in hand.
She saw Ryan's grave expression. Saw the glaring report on Theodore's desk.
"Something wrong?" She walked to his side.
Theodore didn't hide it. He gave her the brief version.
Yasmin picked up the report, scanning quickly.
The malicious speculation and twisted data felt particularly glaring to her eyes.
She saw their logic.
They were attacking the Prescott Group's "hard power"—finances, technology, business model. Theodore's world. A battlefield of data.
But she knew war had more than one strategy.
"They want to define you. Drag you into the mud and beat you on their terms." Yasmin set down the report, looking at Theodore. "You've brought in the best lawyers and bankers to hold your ground. That's right."
She paused. Her tone shifted.
"But defense won't win the war."
Theodore looked up at her.
"They want to tell the market a story about 'the Prescott Group being a bubble.' So we tell a bigger story. A better one. We drown out their voices." Yasmin's eyes held a unique light.
Not the sharpness of a business elite, but the confidence of a creator.
"They talk data, we talk future. They talk risk, we talk belief. They use a magnifying glass to find your flaws—I'll use a telescope and show everyone the ocean of stars you're sailing toward."
Theodore watched her. The edge of hostility that had risen from the enemy's provocation gradually settled in her voice.
He knew what she wanted to do.
"The editor-in-chief of Time magazine contacted me last week through a friend in Milan. Wanted to do a feature on 'the new wave of Eastern design.'" Yasmin said. "I declined."
Theodore said nothing, waiting.
"Now, I want to accept." Yasmin smiled slightly. "But I don't just want to talk design. I want to talk about the relationship between good design, good business, and a good era."
---
Two days later.
First Landing, a coffee shop.
Yasmin sat across from Time magazine's editor-in-chief, a blonde woman.
Not in the Prescott Group's cold conference room. Not in a hotel executive lounge.
Yasmin had chosen this place—full of everyday life.
"Ms. White, many people are curious. As an artist at the pinnacle of design, why are you so deeply involved in the operations of a soon-to-be-public commercial group? In fact, many believe you're the soul behind FutureNest's success—and the Prescott Group's greatest asset for this IPO." The editor's question was direct and sharp.
This was a trap.
If Yasmin agreed, it would confirm "the Prescott Group relies on Yasmin's personal halo."
If she denied it, she'd seem disingenuous.
Yasmin lifted her coffee cup, inhaled the aroma, then spoke unhurriedly.
"Let me correct something. I'm not 'getting involved' in a company's operations." Her voice was gentle but her words precise. "I'm co-creating a venture I believe in—with my husband."
She looked at the editor, gaze honest.
"The world sees FutureNest's design. They see my awards. What they don't see is the decade the Prescott Group spent building the world's top-tier supply chain system. They don't see geniuses like Jett burning countless nights in labs for technological breakthroughs. They don't see Theodore using extraordinary vision and courage to build a platform where technology and design can perfectly merge."
"What I did wasn't drape a beautiful cloth over a cold stone. It was showing the world that the stone already held a diamond inside. I just happened to know a little polishing."
The editor froze.
She'd anticipated many answers—corporate flattery, humble deflection, naked ambition.
But not this.
Yasmin hadn't claimed credit. Hadn't artificially praised the Prescott Group. She'd simply used the plainest, most sincere language to paint a picture of symbiotic prosperity.
She'd defined herself, Theodore, Jett, and the entire Prescott Group as an inseparable whole.
Rise together or fall together.
"So, regarding those voices questioning the Prescott Group's valuation, calling FutureNest just a pretty concept—what's your response?" the editor pressed.
"I respect all rational analysis based on data." Yasmin smiled slightly. "But I believe more deeply that great companies were never built on financial statements alone. Apple doesn't sell phones—it sells 'Think Different.' Tesla doesn't sell electric cars—it sells a bet on the future."
"The Prescott Group—what we want to present to the world—isn't just a company. It's a promise. A promise of smarter, greener homes that understand you. This is a future worth holding onto with time and belief for all long-term investors."
"As for those speculators who only want to flip in and out of capital markets for short-term gains..." She paused, lifted her cup, took a light sip. "Sorry. Our story might be a bit too long for them."
---
The interview ran as a cover story in the latest issue of Time magazine under the headline: Yasmin: We're Not Selling Stock—We're Selling a Decade of Lifestyle.
In the article, Yasmin didn't refute a single attack on the Prescott Group. Yet every word dismantled the foundation of those attacks.
She'd successfully elevated a financial game about valuation and risk into a philosophical discussion about belief and the future.
The day the article published, the Prescott Group's PR department received an email from one of Europe's largest pension funds—Norway's sovereign wealth fund.
The message was simple. They were extremely interested in the long-term vision the Prescott Group described. They wanted to become cornerstone investors in the IPO.
Theodore looked at the email Ryan handed him. He said nothing for a long time.
He walked to the window, watching the traffic stream below.
On Theodore's battlefield, artillery raged. He'd hired the strongest mercenaries, prepared for a brutal ground war.
And Yasmin had simply brewed a pot of coffee and told a story.
From thousands of miles away, she'd summoned the most powerful ally.
He picked up his phone and called Yasmin.
On the other end, she seemed to be in her studio. Soft music played in the background.
"Saw it?" she asked with a smile.
"Yeah."
"So, don't worry." Yasmin's voice carried laughter. "They have their capital theory. We have our methodology."
Theodore leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at his reflection in the glass, and suddenly laughed softly.
Yes.
They were husband and wife. They shared the same faith.
That was a core asset no capital could short.
---
The NASDAQ bell rang at exactly 9:30 a.m. New York time.
On the massive electronic screen, green numbers behind the code "PRESCOTT" began jumping wildly.
Opening price. Issue price. Then a nearly vertical upward curve.
Camera flashes turned the trading floor into daylight.
Theodore didn't look at the screen. He just turned his head to look at Yasmin beside him.
She wore a simple white suit today, standing among a sea of dark suits like a point of clear moonlight.
Yasmin looked at Theodore. The jumping numbers reflected in her eyes, but there was no frenzy—only the calm of settled dust.
Ryan stood a few steps behind them, heart about to leap from his throat.
Finally, the numbers leveled off, stabilizing at a stunning height.
The Prescott Group had officially become the highest-valued company in the global smart home sector.
No competition.