A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 85

“Emily Cheng.”

“Ha Si-heon. You can call me Sean.”

Emily and I exchanged business cards.

On the outside, I smiled, but inwardly, I swallowed my disappointment.

This woman isn’t the whistleblower from my previous life, after all.

I don’t remember the whistleblower’s name, but I do recall one critical fact: he was the maternal grandson of former Secretary of State Schultz, who serves on Theranos’s board.

If he’s a “grandson,” that obviously means he’s male, so Emily—being female—couldn’t possibly be the future whistleblower.

However, I quickly let go of that disappointment.

Well, this is reality.

Sure, it would have been nice to run into Schultz’s grandson in person, but I never really believed I’d be that lucky.

Out of more than 800 employees, what are the odds I’d happen to meet him by chance?

I had no intention of relying on such a fluke—nor was there any need.

I can always create a whistleblower myself.

There was no reason to insist on the same person from my past life if I could cultivate someone else.

It wouldn’t be easy, but it wasn’t impossible.

That said, a few conditions had to be met for this plan to work.

The most important was that the person in question had to feel guilty about being involved in fraud.

The key question, then, was how guilty this junior employee Emily might feel about Theranos’s scam.

My top priority was to figure that out.

With that goal, I began asking questions.

“How did you manage to measure simple ions using CLIA?”

“It’s proprietary technology, so I’m afraid I can’t disclose that.”

“I’ve heard you achieved a breakthrough in microfluidics. Which specific aspect of that technology is the core innovation?”

“We’re able to run tests using capillary blood. Beyond that, the details are confidential.”

No matter what I asked, her answer was the same: “It’s proprietary.”

I couldn’t get any concrete details on the technology, but that didn’t really matter.

My true goal, from the start, was to observe Emily’s reactions.

With each repeated question, Emily’s expression grew increasingly apologetic.

She seemed uncomfortable, as though she felt bad for giving such repetitive non-answers.

That was a good sign—it meant she did have some conscience.

“Have you received FDA approval?”

“We’re currently in the process.”

“There are a lot of steps in ‘the process.’ Even just submitting an internal request might be described as ‘in process.’ Have you officially started the procedures with the FDA?”

“That will be announced later, through an official statement.”

“Sigh…”

At my heavy sigh, Emily flinched.

Noting her reaction, I spoke in as sincere a tone as possible.

“I’m sorry. I do understand your position. But…”

I forced a wry smile.

“I also need to report on whether this investment is justified. If all I have for my report is empty expressions like ‘proprietary’ and ‘in process’… Honestly, my job is on the line. I’m not exaggerating—if this keeps up, I might actually lose it.”

“…”

Emily looked genuinely distressed.

The thought that her uncooperative stance might cost someone else their livelihood seemed to bother her.

‘At least she has some conscience.’

Plenty of people would just say, “Not my problem,” and walk away at a time like this.

The fact that she felt bad was proof she had a strong sense of ethics.

I pleaded with Emily earnestly:

“Anything—just a little bit of detail about what’s in the works, as long as it’s not confidential. Two thousand characters’ worth, and you’ll be saving my life.”

She hesitated for a moment, then cautiously agreed.

“I can share what’s already on the Theranos website.”

“In that case, would you be willing to confirm which parts are accurate?”

Emily nodded, and we began comparing the information on Theranos’s site while trying to reach that 2,000-character quota.

“The site says FDA approval is in progress. For which indication?”

“It’s for the HSV-1 test.”

“When did you submit the application?”

“It was only recently—just a few weeks ago.”

That was unexpected—Theranos had apparently begun the FDA approval process in the meantime.

But…

“What about tests other than HSV-1?”

“Those are…also in progress.”

They claimed to diagnose more than 240 illnesses, yet they’d only applied for approval for a single test.

Holmes’s intentions were obvious.

They’ll get just one test approved and then lump everything else in.

Since HSV-1 involves an antibody-based test, the results might come out okay.

And once they secure approval for just one test, they can spin it as “We have FDA approval” for all 240 others.

“Are there any plans to apply for other indications?”

“That…will be announced later.”

“Got it. So in my report, I’ll say, ‘HSV-1 and additional tests are in progress.’ That still leaves me about a thousand characters short…”

Whenever my questions got a bit too pointed, Emily would look uneasy, but I reassured her that all I needed were enough words to fill my report—no more, no less.

Realizing I didn’t actually care about the truth, she gradually relaxed.

After about 15 more minutes, I announced:

“Two thousand characters—done!”

I gave her a heartfelt smile.

“Thank you so much. I think this will help me avoid disaster for the time being.”

“No need to thank me. I just did what I could.”

By now, the atmosphere between us felt noticeably lighter.

Working together on this ‘mission’ had fostered a sort of camaraderie.

“It’s definitely not something I take for granted. Honestly, if it weren’t for you, I’d have been fired.”

At my renewed thanks, Emily paused for a moment and then asked cautiously:

“Is it really possible to be fired for something like this?”

‘She’s really interested in how people lose their jobs….’

That was also useful information.

“People get fired for a lot less. Goldman is notorious for regularly letting go of the bottom 10%.”

“What? They fire the bottom 10%?”

“There was a time when going to work was terrifying. If you showed up one morning and someone’s desk was empty, that meant they’d just been fired. No warning—just gone. And you never know if you’ll be next…”

This wasn’t a lie—when I first started there, that was exactly the environment.

I kept my eyes on Emily as I told the story, and she seemed to feel genuine sympathy, despite having just met me.

“Is that even legal? To fire people so suddenly?”

“With at-will employment, there’s not much recourse.”

At-will employment allows either the employer or the employee to terminate the contract at any time, without cause.

Investment banks like Goldman are all at-will, as are most Silicon Valley startups.

Therefore, workforce restructuring is extremely easy.

“Even so, the law couldn’t have been enacted just to allow employers to fire people at will… but I suppose there’s no point in saying that.”

From Emily’s wry smile, I caught a glimpse of someone who feels powerless in the face of reality.

‘As I thought.’

Her concern wasn’t just pity for me, a stranger she’d just met.

There was something about her own situation that overlapped with mine, causing such deep empathy.

For anyone considering whistleblowing, the biggest fear is company retaliation, especially retaliatory dismissal.

From what I’d observed, Emily seemed to be caught in a dilemma.

She appeared to have the will to expose the truth but hesitated out of fear of the consequences.

I decided it was time to drop a meaningful hint.

“Well, that doesn’t mean we just have to sit around and take it.”

“Pardon?”

“If there are enough cases of wrongful termination, people can gather them together and file a class-action lawsuit.”

“Is…that really possible?”

“It depends on the reason for termination, but…ah!”

Suddenly, I widened my eyes and pressed a finger to my lips.

“Please pretend you never heard that.”

“No way…”

“I’m begging you. I didn’t say a word, all right?”

“…”

Emily nodded silently, but I could guess what she was thinking.

She likely believed I was collecting wrongful termination cases in preparation for a class-action suit.

I quickly changed the subject.

“By the way, is there a good bar around here?”

“A bar?”

“I feel like I need a drink tonight.”

Emily recommended a few places, and I picked one of them.

“The Crown…interesting. It’s a British-style pub, huh?”

“They have excellent stout, though the food is…well… It’s the kind of place you go when the drink matters more than the food.”

“That’s fine. I happen to be craving a drink tonight.”

In doing so, I casually let her know where I’d be that evening.

Emily seemed quite interested in what I’d said about dismissal and class-action lawsuits.

If she wants to hear more details, she might show up at the pub.

…Though that was just my hope.

Honestly, what I’d offered as bait was probably too weak.

‘Should I just invite her to grab a drink together?’

The thought crossed my mind briefly, but I decided it wasn’t wise.

As a man, suggesting that to Emily—a woman—could be misunderstood as personal interest.

Besides, if Emily did become a whistleblower, she’d be a key witness later on.

It was best not to sow any seeds of misunderstanding from the start.

Also, if I personally invited her and started talking about Theranos, she might grow wary.

I needed her to come on her own, not because I invited her.

However, just as I was about to drop a bit more bait…

Crash!

The door burst open, and a short, stocky Indian man strode in.

It was Vice President Sharma.

“What’s taking so long?”

With a fierce glare, Sharma snapped at Emily.

It wasn’t simple irritation; his eyes clearly conveyed suspicion that she might have divulged something.

In a situation like this, an explanation would be necessary, but Emily was frozen in place, unable to speak.

“I asked for some fact-checking.”

I calmly answered on her behalf, then gave her a slight bow in apology.

“I kept asking questions and took too much of her time. I’m sorry—and thank you.”

Only then did Sharma take his accusatory gaze off Emily and look at me.

He clicked his tongue and spun around sharply.

“Follow me.”

***

Next on the schedule was the investor dinner.

Theranos’s executives and investors would gather in a relaxed setting to share a meal and conversation.

But then Prescott brought some unexpected news.

“There’s no need for you to attend. In fact, you may as well head back. We’ll talk again in New York.”

Immediately, I wondered:

‘Did I push too far earlier?’

Had I upset Holmes by making things difficult during the tour?

But although Prescott spoke firmly, there was a faint hint of apology in his eyes.

It seemed like it wasn’t entirely his decision.

Maybe after I left, Holmes complained about me.

I gave Prescott a smile.

“Certainly, sir. Please enjoy your evening. Truth be told, I have plenty of work to do, so I wasn’t planning to attend the dinner anyway.”

“Ha!”

I heard a scoff next to me.

I turned and saw Sharma sneering at me with a twitch of his face.

His expression suggested a kind of contempt, as if ridiculing a nobody who couldn’t join an executive meeting.

*He’s the type who feeds his ego on this sort of thing…how tiresome.*

Still, I could guess why he acted that way.

Sharma liked to carry himself as if he were a brilliant businessman, but in reality, he was just lucky.

Years ago, at the height of the dot-com bubble, he’d founded a company and sold it off for a fortune.

That company later went bankrupt after the bubble burst, but Sharma still flaunted the sale as his crowning achievement.

He was desperate to pass off luck as skill, clung to his executive title, and probably knew deep down he didn’t have genuine ability.

Unable to admit that to himself, he overcompensated with bravado and self-justification.

Anyway.

After finishing his sneer in my direction, Sharma turned to the other investors and spoke.

“I’ve booked a restaurant. Since going all at once would attract attention, we’ll split into five groups.”

“Five groups?”

“Yes. In case anyone is watching, we’ll stagger our departure times by fifteen minutes. And please, do not say ‘Theranos’ or mention our real names inside the restaurant. Outside, you should refer to Holmes as ‘Lisa’ and me as ‘Sanjay.’”

Some investors looked downright baffled.

“Is all that really necessary…?”

“It’s a necessary precaution. If someone happens to overhear our conversation, the information could leak out through any number of channels.”

They behaved as though the entire world was deploying corporate spies to uncover Theranos’s proprietary technology.

Delusions of grandeur, really.

Especially since that so-called proprietary technology doesn’t actually exist. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

But this did confirm that Holmes and Sharma were paranoid about information leaks.

‘As expected, it won’t be easy to refute their ‘technology.’’

Even if I manage to recruit an insider, gathering proof might be difficult.

Sneaking evidence out would be tough under the watchful eyes of such paranoiacs.

Moreover, according to Raymond Mosley, Holmes had already sued some employees in the past for leaking “proprietary information.”

Clearly, it was all meant to intimidate potential whistleblowers.

The message was: if you reveal anything about their “technology,” there would be a steep price.

Still, that didn’t mean there was no way around it.

When people become obsessively focused on protecting one thing, they often drop their guard elsewhere.

It was the perfect situation for a sneak attack.

And now was the time for me to prepare exactly that.