American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

In late autumn in Lower Manhattan, the wind was biting cold.

Victor sat in the strategy conference room on the top floor of the Water Tower, his fingertips tapping on the Wall Street Journal on the table. The front page headline read: "Atlas Television Network Deep in Financial Trouble, GG Corporation Withdraws Large Amount of Investment Due to 'Fake News' Scandal."

"Barry, this 'noise' isn't frequent enough. I want Atlas's stock price to plummet like a kite with a broken string."

Barry Hines stood in front of the electronic screen, an excited smile on his face. He held a remote control in his hand, rapidly switching between real-time trending topics on various social media platforms.

"Don't worry, boss. Our 'fact checkers' and 'helpful citizens' are on standby around the clock." Barry pressed a button, and a series of meticulously crafted news summaries appeared on the screen. "The focus of public opinion has now completely shifted from 'the pharmaceutical company's compliance' to 'Atlas Television's professional ethics.' Our hired psychologists are analyzing April's every expression, interpreting it as a clinical manifestation of 'histrionic personality disorder.'"

David Rossi, sitting at one side of the long table, shifted uncomfortably. "Victor, won't this kind of personal attack cause a backlash? After all, April still has a certain aura of justice in the public's mind."

"David, you still believe in the halo too much." Victor looked up, his eyes deep. "In the face of a massive amount of fragmented information, the halo is the easiest thing to deconstruct. As long as we keep supplying 'background information,' the truth will be submerged in endless discussions of details. People won't care who's right; they'll just think, 'This is too complicated,' and then turn away."

He turned to the other side and looked at Saul, who was slowly wiping his glasses.

"Sol, the pond is murky enough. Has that stubborn old man Arthur Sterling still not given up?"

"Arthur's a typical 'idealistic veteran,' boss," Saul said, putting on his glasses. "Yesterday at the board meeting, he launched a 'poison pill' plan. If any single shareholder holds more than 15%, the other shareholders have the right to subscribe to new shares at a very low price. He wants to dilute our shareholding to discourage us from pursuing this strategy."

"A poison pill?" Barry whistled. "That old man's got guts."

"Rules are made by people, and naturally, they can be interpreted by people as well." Thor stood up, walked to the whiteboard, picked up a black marker, and drew three circles.

"This is our solution to break the deadlock—the reverse poison pill strategy."

"Step one: Divide and conquer." Saul wrote three place names in a circle: the Cayman Islands, Jersey, and Zurich. "We have acquired 4.9% of Atlas's shares through independent offshore funds in these three jurisdictions. That's 14.7% in total, precisely just below the 15% threshold. On the SEC's (Securities and Exchange Commission) regulatory radar, we are just three unrelated minority shareholders, not even meeting the reporting threshold."

"Step two: a run on the bank." Victor picked up the conversation, his tone icy. "Barry, I want you to spread the word that Atlas's short-term revolving loans have matured and the underwriting banks have refused to extend them. I want those minority shareholders to believe that Atlas is not only bankrupt in reputation, but also a zombie in terms of cash flow."

"Understood." Barry's eyes gleamed with fervor. "I'll have those financial bloggers work through the night to write articles. I've already come up with the title: 'Arthur Sterling's Vanity is Strangling All Shareholders.' We'll magnify every negative figure in the financial statements tenfold and highlight it in red."

"Step three: winning hearts and minds." Saul drew a heavy arrow on the whiteboard, pointing to the "$" symbol. "When the panic reaches its peak and the stock price falls below the issue price, the Water Group will publicly issue an 'all-cash, all-out takeover offer' to all shareholders at a 40% premium. For pension funds and retail investors watching their assets shrink, this is not a hostile takeover; it's a lifeline sent by God."

"What about the poison pill plan?" Rossi asked. "If Arthur forces the activation of the poison pill, our equity will still be diluted."

"That's the fourth step: legal decapitation." Saul pushed up his glasses, a cold glint in his eyes. "We'll simultaneously file a lawsuit in the Delaware Court of Chancery, accusing Arthur Sterling and his board of directors of a serious breach of fiduciary duty for initiating a poison pill when the company faced bankruptcy."

"We will cite the famous Revlon Rule—when the sale of a company becomes inevitable, the board's responsibility must shift from 'defending the company' to 'securing the highest possible price for shareholders.' If he rejects our high-premium offer and insists on holding onto that worthless mess, he will be the enemy of all shareholders. A class-action lawsuit from the shareholders will bury him like an avalanche."

Victor stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the lights of Wall Street stretched out in a continuous expanse, like a flowing golden river, where countless desires rose and fell.

"Arthur Sterling thought he was protecting the soul of a media company, but he forgot that in the capital markets, the soul has a price-to-earnings ratio." Victor looked at his reflection. "Barry, after the acquisition is complete, don't touch April."

Barry paused, then said, "Why? She's the one who most wants to bite us to death. I thought you were going to exile her to Alaska to report on the weather."

"Why destroy such a fine tool?" Victor smiled. "She's passionate, charismatic, and, more importantly, she's established a certain 'authority.' That's what you call a 'controlled opposition.' We should give her a raise, a better studio, and let her host an in-depth report on the 'dark side of the healthcare industry.'"

"However," Victor paused, his voice lowering, "the main culprits are no longer us, but those disobedient competitors, or those hindering our global expansion..."

"We should give her a sharper sword, then hold her hand and tell her who to stab. That's more valuable than killing her."

Barry was silent for a few seconds, then burst into maniacal laughter: "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Boss, this is practically selling someone out and then making them count the money for us!"

"This is 'agenda setting'," Victor said softly. "We not only create the voice, but we control the direction in which it travels. The highest power is not to forbid people from speaking, but to decide what people discuss."

"Tell Arthur Sterling that winter is coming. Either wear the coat I give you, or freeze to death in the snow. Even if that coat has Walter's logo on it."