I kept going. “Vindictive like demanding I transfer shares worth tens of millions to your son because he needed a fake investment portfolio?”
Bradley frowned. “They’re worth two million.”
James Morrison actually laughed. “Mr. Young, NextGen’s latest valuation is five hundred million dollars. Stephanie’s current stake is approximately seventy-five million pre-IPO.”
That number completely changed the room. Seventy-five million.
More than Marcus had ever imagined I could be worth. More than Bradley could spell correctly in an email. More than Young Construction had cleared in years.
Marcus looked physically unsteady. “You’re worth…”
“More than you thought,” I said. “Yes.”
His voice cracked. “Please. The company needs this deal. We leveraged everything. Without Meridian, we could go under.”
“I know.”
“Then you know what you’re doing to me.”
“Yes.”
I picked up the pen. For one second, Marcus breathed again. Then I set it down without signing.
“I won’t attach NextGen’s name to a company that treats people as disposable when they refuse to be useful. Meridian’s values are respect, integrity, and innovation. Young Construction has demonstrated none of those.”
“You’re destroying me,” Marcus whispered.
“No. You destroyed us when you chose a performance of family over your actual daughter. I am declining a business opportunity.”
I gathered my documents. “Mr. Morrison, NextGen remains committed to Meridian. We will help identify a construction partner aligned with the project’s values.”
“Understood,” James said. Then he turned to the room. “Meridian Holdings will not proceed with Young Construction. Without NextGen participation, the contract is void.”
That was the moment Marcus lost the deal.
The live stream was still running. Investors had heard everything. By the time I reached the ballroom doors, reporters were already moving toward him.
“Mr. Young, did you really not know your daughter was CTO of NextGen?”