Chương 8
"I know."
"Also, if you get back together with him, I reserve the right to dislike him for at least six months."
"Only six?"
"I am generous."
My computer chimed.
A new calendar invitation appeared.
Sterling Capital, Thursday, nine a.m.
The attendee list included Diane Walsh, three department heads, Mara, me, and Adrian Sterling.
I clicked accept.
Mara watched.
"Any billionaire messages last night?"
I should have lied.
Instead, I said, "His sister thinks he should leave me alone."
Mara stopped moving.
"Excuse me?"
"He told me."
"And what did you say?"
"That maybe she was right."
Mara leaned back.
"Interesting."
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You said interesting in the tone people use before saying many things."
She folded her arms.
"Do you like him?"
"No."
Too fast.
Mara's eyebrows rose.
"I barely know him."
"That was not my question."
"He's a potential client."
"Also not my question."
I picked up a pen.
"He held me while I had an emotional collapse in an airport."
"Yes."
"Then he interrogated my acquisition model."
"Romance is alive."
"I am serious."
"So am I."
I threw the pen at her.
She caught it.
"Violence in the workplace."
"Document it."
She stood.
"I need lunch."
"Bring me something."
"What?"
"Anything without fish."
The afternoon passed with less drama.
At five thirty, nearly everyone had gone home.
I remained at my desk correcting a model assumption when an email from Diane arrived.
She wanted an additional memo before Thursday.
Attached was a set of internal operating data Sterling had not previously shared.
I opened the file.
At first, I saw nothing unusual.
Then I noticed the company name.
Bellwether Health Partners.
The same target from slide twenty-three.
The company Adrian had said Sterling already owned thirty-eight percent of.
I read the operating data twice.
The staffing numbers were worse than we had estimated.
Much worse.
Turnover was nearly double the figure disclosed in the acquisition materials.
Several regional offices were using temporary contractors at costs that would destroy the projected margin.
I checked the dates.
Recent.
I opened our earlier source documents.
The discrepancy was obvious once I knew where to look.
Someone had presented the workforce data in a way that technically showed historical headcount without showing how many positions were vacant.
It was clever.
Not necessarily illegal.
Definitely misleading.
I called Mara.
She answered over restaurant noise.
"Please tell me the building isn't on fire."
"Bellwether."
"What about it?"
"The internal data Diane sent."
"What internal data?"
"Check your email."
I heard movement on her end.
Then silence.
Then, "Oh."
"Exactly."
"Are these numbers real?"
"They came from Sterling."
"That's not what I asked."
"I don't know."
Mara exhaled.
"If they're real, the valuation isn't just aggressive."
"It's ridiculous."
"Who prepared the acquisition case?"
I searched the attachments.
There was a memorandum buried beneath the operating sheets.
The author line contained a name I recognized from Monday's conference room.
Martin Hale.
The operations executive who had challenged our staffing assumptions.
My stomach tightened.
"Mara."
"I see it."
"He knew."
"Maybe."
"He argued against our assumptions."
"That doesn't prove he knew these figures."
"He works on the deal."
"It still doesn't prove anything."
She was right.
I hated that she was right.
I scrolled through the memo.
Several pages were marked confidential.
One appendix showed projected savings based on consolidating regional staffing.
The estimate assumed vacancy rates would normalize within twelve months.
There was no explanation for why.
I said, "This is bad."
"It's certainly optimistic."
"Mara."
"I am deliberately using a boring word because boring words keep consultants out of lawsuits."
I rubbed my forehead.
"What do we do?"
"We write exactly what the data supports."
"And if they don't like it?"
"Then they don't hire us."
That answer sounded familiar.
I leaned back.
Outside my office, the cleaning staff had begun emptying wastebaskets.
Someone pushed a vacuum down the hallway.
"You're at dinner."
"You have a life."
"Debatable."
We hung up.
I worked for another hour.
At seven ten, my phone buzzed.
Adrian.
I almost ignored it.
Then I opened the message.
I owe you a clarification about Eleanor.
I typed, You really don't.
He replied, I do.
I waited.
Her concern isn't about you.
That was somehow more unsettling.
I wrote, I assumed that.
His next message took several minutes.
A few years ago, I got involved with someone who worked with one of our portfolio companies.
I stared at the screen.
He continued.
It ended badly.
I wrote, Badly for whom?
His answer came quickly.
Everyone.
I looked back at the Bellwether data glowing on my monitor.
For the first time, the personal warning and the professional unease in my chest touched the same nerve.
Before I could respond, another message appeared.
Eleanor thinks I confuse protecting people with controlling situations.
I read it twice.
Then a final message came.
She's not always wrong.
I set the phone facedown and looked again at Martin Hale's memorandum.
The phrase controlling situations stayed with me longer than it should have.
I disliked Adrian's admission because it sounded self-aware without sounding resolved.
There was a difference.
People could name their worst habits beautifully and still keep doing them.
Preston had just spent three days proving that.
I returned to the Bellwether files.
The staffing numbers still did not make sense.
More accurately, they made too much sense once viewed beside the acquisition memo.
The growth case depended on a company operating with a workforce it did not actually possess.
Projected savings came from reducing administrative overlap, but current vacancies had already forced local offices to use expensive contractors.
The plan assumed both cheaper labor and greater capacity.
It was the kind of contradiction that survived if different people owned different spreadsheets.
At eight thirteen, I emailed Mara a draft memo.
My conclusion occupied three paragraphs and probably ended our chance of winning the contract.
May you like
I recommended that Sterling suspend further acquisition negotiations until Bellwether's workforce data could be independently reconciled.
Then I stared at the email for thirty seconds before sending it.
