Page 19 of Due Diligence

“But that’s who you were back then. Cassie Pierson from…I want to say San Francisco. Is that right?”

Her silence was all the confirmation I needed.

“Cassie Pierson, freshman class president at Princeton. Did you know all the guys in my hall voted for you just so they had something to say to you when they ran into you when we went out?” I nodded. “I voted for you too, for the record.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah, I thought you seemed so genuine,” I continued, watching as her eyes landed on anything but me. “That was before you told me I was an idiot for dropping out of Princeton, that my company was built on hypocrisy, and that you didn’t expect to hear from me ever again.”

And that was it. That was verbatim what Cassie said to me on my last night at Princeton. As soon as the words were out in the open, they soaked up the tension in the room. We were doing this—after ten years, we were finally going to talk about that night.

Good.

“Did I get it right?” I asked needlessly. “That’s what you said to me, wasn’t it?”

Somehow, Cassie was unfazed. She simply tossed her hair away from her face and said, “Marcus, you’re ten years older and hundreds of millions of dollars richer. You’re still angry about what one freshman girl said to you drunkenly on a dancefloor in an eating club? Get over it.”

Get over it.

I learned many years ago thatget over itwas one of my triggers—one of those little throwaway phrases that pushed me into the deep end. I loathed its flippancy and its condescension. I wouldn’t take it from her—not her, not anyone.

“That’s cute,” I snapped, working furiously to keep my voice from wavering. I felt my hands starting to vibrate with frustration. “I love this revisionist history, but that’s not how I remember it. I remember an eighteen-year-old kid, going out with his friends for a last hurrah before he dropped out of school to take on the terrifying task of launching a startup with millions of dollars on the line. I remember going to Ivy and seeing that nice, pretty girl who I had talked to a few times before. I remember thinking:Hey, I’m probably never going to see her again so I should have a conversation with her or something. And then I remember her laughing in my face for no reason, insulting me and my company, and assembling a nice little crowd of her trust fund brat groupies to laugh along with her. And that’s what you all did, right? You laughed at me.”

Cassie looked away from me again, just as she pulled her lower lip back with her teeth. She had heard enough—I could tell. I wasn’t done though, not by a longshot.

I took another step forward. “I stood there feeling so small, wondering what I ever did to this girl who wasso fucking niceto everyone else—except for me. So…what did I say to her?”

“You said—”

I held up my hand, cutting her off. “I said, ‘In ten years I’m going to be a wealthy motherfucker who made a real difference, and you’re going to be some rich guy’s trophy wife who wishes she had done anything exceptional with her life.’ And that’s when you threw a beer in my face, right?”

Cassie didn’t say a word. She simply glanced to the other side, staring into the darkness for a few seconds. When she looked back at me, her expression was unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” she said, raising both shoulders like she didn’t know what to do with her body. “I’m sorry I said those things and threw a beer at you.”

“Are you?” I questioned. “Or is this just a ploy to keep your job, Cassie? Because the thing is: I don’t need an apology from you. It would be nice, sure, but I have no desire to make amends with you. To be totally honest, I didn’t give a shit about you for ten years. All I know is that I won’t gut my company and expose her insides to someone like you. So, there’s nothing we can do here other than call it a day and get a new analyst. Understood?”

“Not going to happen.” She shook her head. “It’s just not an option.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because this is my job,” she responded, finally looking at me again. And when she did, there was a resolve in her brown eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “I may not like you, but I’m going to do right by your company. I’m going to make sure that for the next fifty-seven days, nothing goes sideways. By the time I’m done, you’ll have your money and you won’t have to think about me ever again.”

I frowned. “So you’re telling me nobody else can do your job?”

“No, plenty of other people can,” she countered, nodding. “It’s notthathard. But I am good at what I do. Exceptionally good. I’ve closed five deals in the last year, and I’ve managed to finish them all ahead of schedule. In three of those deals, I was able to make a case to Davenport-Ridgeway to increase the purchase price because of oversights on multiple parties’ parts. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

In a swift motion, she removed her coat. She turned and laid it on the back of her chair before she faced me again.

I put my hands into the pocket of my slacks, watching as Cassie took a deep breath. She didn’t force a smile this time, but she nodded her head and took a step closer to me.

“Ten years was a long time ago, but I owe you an apology. A real one. We may never be friends, but we can help each other. You want a clean deal, and I want to keep my job. Let’s do that.” She held out her hand to me.

I looked down at it, at her perfectly manicured hand that sported a delicate gold watch that was so small I couldn’t even fit all five of my fingertips through it at once. I shook my head. “I’m not ready for that.”

Slowly, Cassie lowered her hand to her side. There was a brief glint of dejection on her face, but it faded quickly.

“What?” I asked, frowning. “You really want to work on this deal? This means that much to you? I find that hard to believe.”

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