bookmarkrole Chapter 357 : The Goose That Lays Golden Eggs (15)
Chapter 357 : The Goose That Lays Golden Eggs (15)
Bzzzt.
My phone rang.
The name on the screen was Pierce.
I pressed the decline button without hesitation.
However—
Bzzzt!
The call came in again immediately. He must be really desperate.
A frown formed on my forehead.
Pierce and I had no reason to contact each other privately, so this was clearly something related to CRISPR Medical.
‘So he finally noticed.’
In truth, I had already secured the key suppliers in the CRISPR ecosystem.
Not only had I invested in companies producing AAV vectors, LNP carriers, Cas9 proteins, and guide RNA, but I had also taken seats on the boards of each company.
Even at this very moment, I was in a board meeting with one of them.
“If it’s urgent, you may take the call.”
The CEO across from me spoke cautiously.
“No need. Please continue.”
I simply switched off my phone altogether.
The meeting, briefly interrupted, resumed.
“Our demand forecast for this quarter missed completely. All production lines are now in emergency mode.”
“Even with overtime and weekend shifts, we’re at our limit. Especially after upgrading to cGMP, we can’t expand production lines any further. Adding even one more synthesizer requires a full turnaround. And that includes sterilization, validation, and FDA paperwork…”
“How long would it take to build an additional line?”
“At least six to eight weeks. And that’s assuming raw material procurement goes smoothly… but currently, the raw material supply chain is maxed out. We need to add at least two more months. And that’s if we make the decision right now.”
All of this chaos was created by the ten billion dollars I had spread into the market.
Dozens of companies rushing into the CRISPR gold rush were trying to secure materials all at once—of course things would explode.
I slowly rolled the die in my pocket.
I felt each of its fifteen precisely interlocking faces.
The temptation to cast it again flickered through my mind.
‘Not yet.’
Use it too carelessly and the fun evaporates.
Besides, if I tossed it whenever I was bored, it would become nothing more than an expensive toy. A tool like this should only be used at the exact moment needed—when it can flip the whole table.
Anyway.
Seeing the effect of the fifteen I had rolled earlier play out right before my eyes felt gratifying.
For reference, the fifteenth spark was this:
I monopolize the supply chain.
In a race, that’s like monopolizing “water.”
The result of a race isn’t determined solely by the runners’ capabilities.
Cut off their supply, and even the greatest athlete is forced to stop.
Especially in long-distance races, you must deliver water at the right time and place to have any chance of finishing…
And right now, I alone controlled that water.
CRISPR Medical would have realized by now:
Unless I opened the faucet, they could do absolutely nothing in this race.
But—
“We need a quick decision.”
Because of this, not only the turtle I was targeting, but also all suppliers now had fire at their feet.
That was why the board had been called in such a hurry.
“What about postponing deliveries to small biotech firms or academic institutions? We could prioritize those who can wait until January…”
“In theory, yes, but it would halt all their core projects. It risks permanently damaging partnerships.”
“And more customers are reaching out asking about potential delays. Everyone is watching how we respond.”
“Which order is under the most pressure?”
And then—the name I heard pierced straight through my ears.
“CRISPR Medical.”
That was strange.
The turtle that always stayed calm in the background was suddenly the one most desperate for supplies.
“They’ve tripled their Q3 order volume and repeatedly stated that delivery must occur before year-end. They’ve aggressively offered emergency premiums and risk surcharges, even proposed long-term contracts upfront. But if we accept their request, production for all other clients will be delayed at least a month.”
This wasn’t mere stockpiling.
They were moving because they truly needed it.
My lips curled upward.
‘So that’s what this is.’
All that slow movement until now had been nothing but camouflage.
They’d been sharpening their blade behind the scenes.
Preparing to settle the score before year-end.
But too bad.
I had already noticed.
Things were finally getting interesting.
***
After the meeting.
As soon as I turned my phone back on, Nicole called.
[Mr. Pierce is requesting a meeting with you personally.]
To be honest, I did need to meet him at some point.
However—
“Tell him I’m busy.”
Pierce needed to be taught a lesson.
He would pay for trying to block my retail investors.
I had figured out his scheme long ago.
There is always a reason when the float of CRISPR Medical suddenly dries up.
‘Not that it matters much…’
I had considered using retail investors as a spark myself, but not in the way Pierce envisioned.
‘There’s no need for agitation right now.’
In the past, I’d lacked capital and needed other people’s money.
To lure them in, I needed bait—so I used agitation.
But now?
Everything was different.
I had enough capital to flip the board by myself.
So Pierce’s actions hadn’t harmed me much.
The real problem was simply this: He had dared to try tying down my hands and feet.
If I let that slide, he’d keep trying to climb over me.
[He said he’ll adjust to any schedule you choose.]
“Any,” huh…
Let’s see how serious he is.
“Tell him I might have a brief window after my meeting in LA tomorrow. But make sure you add that I can’t guarantee it.”
And the next day.
After wrapping the LA meeting earlier than expected, I informed Nicole:
“The meeting ended sooner than expected. Something urgent came up, so I’m heading to Boston. Please tell Pierce.”
Pierce was probably flying to LA at that very moment to meet me.
Only to have the meeting vanish at the last minute.
He wouldn’t be happy.
But his feelings? Not my problem.
The same pattern repeated in Boston.
I moved to the next destination, updating my schedule each time.
Soon after—Chicago, then back to New York.
After making him traverse the entire continent, I finally met him in New York, where this whole game had begun.
Pierce looked exhausted.
He must have spent days bouncing between airports and flights.
“Seems like you’ve been busy.”
“My position isn’t what it used to be.”
I smiled warmly.
“I now manage over a hundred billion dollars. That means I have more responsibilities—and more people who want my time. I can’t meet everyone, so priorities matter.”
In other words:
You don’t make the cut.
Pierce’s jaw tightened.
“CRISPR Medical wants a conversation.”
“That will be difficult.”
“As I said, I’m extremely busy. If my priorities are to change, I’ll need a reason worthy of it.”
Meaning:
Whether I would meet them depended on what they had to say.
But Pierce couldn’t speak easily.
He couldn’t be the one to reveal CRISPR Medical’s year-end secret.
I let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Haa… well. I do owe Mr. Pierce a debt from the past, so I’ll try to make time somehow. But I can’t set aside a separate slot for him. If he’s fine with stopping by during my existing schedule and talking then, we can proceed that way. I should warn you—it may be a bit inconvenient.”
“That’s fine.”
Honestly, I had planned to drag things out longer as punishment for his gall.
But there was a debt I had intentionally left outstanding with Pierce.
He might try to use it against me later, so settling it now wasn’t a bad idea.
The meeting with the CEO was set for two days later.
The location was The Lowell Hotel.
A quiet boutique hotel on 63rd Street in the Upper East Side.
It looked like an ordinary European-style hotel from the outside, but in truth, it was a hideaway sought by New York’s upper class.
Private Rockefeller gatherings, behind-the-scenes negotiations between UN ambassadors, and all kinds of deals that couldn’t afford to appear in the media were handled here.
But I wasn’t here for anything that serious.
I was here for a fitting.
Having a fitting done at a hotel might sound strange.
But A. Caraceni—whom I had commissioned this time—was a legendary Milanese tailoring house.
Under normal circumstances, I would have flown to Milan myself, but as I’d told Pierce, I truly had no time. So they rented out the entire penthouse and converted it into a fitting room.
“This way, please. Let’s start with the fabric selection.”
The white-haired master tailor guided me.
He opened a leather case and presented the fabric.
“Vicuña 95%, silk 5%. A special fabric woven by an artisan on the outskirts of Biella. Only one bolt is produced per year.”
Vicuña is a wild animal native to the highlands of South America, and its fleece is one of the rarest natural fibers in the world.
Each animal yields barely 200 grams per year, so its scarcity is beyond question.
I reached out, and the sensation at my fingertips was unmistakable.
An extremely fine fiber.
Soft enough for the grain to disappear under touch, yet with a subtle resilience when pressed.
A texture that makes your fingers want to glide over it again.
“I’ll go with this one.”
The master tailor’s expression brightened with satisfaction.
Price was never mentioned.
It was customary not to ask about cost or negotiate during a fitting like this.
You simply paid the invoice when it arrived.
And since I could estimate the price range just by looking, it didn’t matter anyway.
However—
“Haa…”
Even though I had expected the expense, the “symptom” flared up.
My chest tightened, and my fingertips turned cold.
It couldn’t be helped—the cost was bound to be in the same league as the die.
A twisting ache curled in my gut, but I reminded myself silently:
“It’s just a physical reaction. I’m not going to die.”
Back then, I had been afraid because I didn’t know the cause.
But now that I did, the symptom was nothing more than a brief discomfort.
Besides, I might only have seven and a half years of life left. I refused to compromise with uncomfortable clothing just because of a moment’s discomfort. Even if my life was short, I intended to enjoy everything I wanted while I could.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
“You have visitors.”
Wrinkles formed around the tailor’s eyes.
He had the expression of a priest whose sacred ritual had just been interrupted.
“Let’s continue.”
At my word, he silently picked up his pins and resumed his work.
After some time passed, the door opened.
Pierce entered first, followed by a man who looked Middle Eastern.
He appeared to be the CEO of CRISPR Medical.
I greeted them with my arms stretched wide.
“I know this is rude, but my time is limited. Would you mind talking while I’m like this?”
“Of course. I’m Norman, CEO of CRISPR Medical.”
His hand, extended for a handshake, froze awkwardly in midair.
With my arms held open, I only nodded.
“My apologies. As you can see, my arms are occupied. I’m Sean. Please, have a seat on the sofa.”
The two men sat down on the sofa nearby.
A peculiar tableau formed.
While I stood on the fitting platform with my arms outstretched, they had no choice but to look up at me.
The scene faintly resembled Louis XIV receiving his morning ritual at Versailles.
Money really was amazing.
A brief silence lingered.
“You said you had something to discuss with me.”
I urged them on.
The CEO finally opened his mouth, his expression stiff.
“Sean… what exactly is it that you want?”
He likely intended the question to sound intimidating.
But saying it while looking up at me from below didn’t have much effect.
I looked at him through the mirror and answered calmly.
“I want you to create a board seat for me. And I want the Castleman clinical trial to proceed as quickly as possible.”
Just then, the tailor spoke.
“Please raise your arm slightly.”
I obediently lifted my arm.
Meanwhile, the CEO’s face hardened even further.
After a brief pause, he spoke again.
“The Castleman trial cannot proceed. There’s no profitability. The investors won’t agree.”
“That’s why I need to be on the board. I’ll handle the persuasion.”
“I’d prefer to resolve this amicably. But if you complicate things unnecessarily, I’ll have no choice but to proceed through official channels.”
The “official channel” was simple.
File a 13D, take the issue to a shareholder vote.
In other words, a declaration of war.
The CEO’s face twisted.
No one likes a control dispute.
Share prices nosedive, the media smells blood, and the company’s reputation collapses.
He would want to avoid that scenario at all costs.
Still, he forced strength into his voice as he answered:
“Our shareholders trust us.”
“And will they still trust you if you’re the only company unable to run clinical trials because your supply chain is blocked?”
In the middle of a nationwide CRISPR frenzy—while every competitor was sprinting forward—CRISPR Medical alone would be gasping at the starting line because they lacked “water.”
Would shareholder trust really hold?
And if they learned that the issue could be resolved instantly just by taking my hand?
Winning would be easy.
But there was a problem.
My goal wasn’t merely to win.
Proxy battles take time.
From public filings to shareholder persuasion, it takes at least six months—sometimes a full year.
Even if I won and secured the board seat, the clinical trial would be delayed by a year, which would hurt me.
Therefore, my goal was simple:
Make them surrender voluntarily, accept my proposal, and proceed with the race at full speed.
For that reason—
I needed to push a little harder.
“I personally don’t mind, but… would you be okay with a control dispute breaking out before year-end?”
The CEO’s expression stiffened.
So did Pierce’s.
They tried to remain calm, but it was already too late.
“You seem to be aiming for the holiday season.”
Bingo.
They were targeting December, when government offices and institutions enter holiday mode.
Probably because of regulatory reasons.
They chose a period in which resistance would be slow to mount.
Not a bad strategy.
But—
“I can’t wait that long.”
I had only seven and a half years left.
I couldn’t afford to waste even a few months.
In the end, they had only two choices.
“Decide. If you reject me, the 13D filing goes out tonight.”
That would ruin their December ambush.
Their supply chain issue would remain unsolved.
The media would swarm, shareholders would panic, and after a long fight, they would lose control anyway.
“But if you take my hand… I’ll open a path for you much sooner—and far more reliably—than December.”
I could provide a solution.
Not the one they wanted.
Not the one they imagined.
“But the result is guaranteed.”