Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

Chapter 109

"It's not about letting her go." Richard's tone calmed, and his speech slowed. "It's either kill her, or don't offend her."

He leaned back on the sofa and looked at the chandelier on the ceiling.

"Do you know what the biggest difference is between private equity funds and venture capital?" he suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question.

Matt and Emily were both taken aback.

"Venture capital invests in ten companies, and if one of them succeeds, it's a win," Richard answered the question himself. "Private equity is different."

Private equity firms must guarantee a return on every investment they make.

It's not because private equity firms are smarter; it's because their money comes from pension funds, insurance premiums, and university endowments—funds that can't afford to lose. If you lose their money, they won't blame you; they'll simply replace you.

He looked away from the ceiling and at Matt.

"The same principle applies to people. When you're dealing with someone, either don't make a move, or if you do, make sure they can never get back up. If you can't be sure, then don't make a move. Because you can afford to fail once, but if your opponent isn't killed, they'll remember you for life."

Matt was silent for a moment. "So this time we've made sure she can't stand up?"

"No," Richard said bluntly. "We just made sure she didn't dare move. There's a difference between the two."

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He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the city lights outside, blurred by the rain.

"That woman—Catherine—her ambition hasn't been destroyed. She's just temporarily intimidated. What do you think she was thinking when she signed? She was thinking, 'If I lose this time, I'll try a different approach next time.'"

Matt frowned. "So you're still leaving her a way out?"

Richard turned around, leaned against the windowsill, and crossed his arms.

"Because she's useful."

The living room fell silent.

Emily's finger paused on the rim of the glass, and Matt's breathing faltered.

Richard looked at their expressions, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Do you think the Wayne family does clean business?" His tone wasn't sarcastic, but rather stating a fact. "What is the essence of private equity? It's acquiring companies, laying off employees, cutting costs, packaging them for an IPO, and then selling them."

Behind every deal we make, countless people lose their jobs. That's business. Nobody writes in the terms of a deal that we're going to destroy this company, but the result is the same.

He walked back and sat down on the sofa again.

"I taught you from a young age to be good people. I still don't regret saying that. Because the Wayne family needs a good successor to maintain the family's positive image—your mother is a director of the Boston Social Welfare Commission, and your grandfather is one of the largest donors to Boston University."

Every member of this family must be respectable, upright, and impeccable in public.

He paused for a moment.

"But the family business is a private equity fund. In the private equity industry, there are some things that can't be done in the open. You need someone to do those things that can't be done in the open"—slamming the table and yelling at the negotiating table, skirting the law in court, and investigating the opponent's background behind the scenes.

These people cannot be members of the Wayne family, but they must obey the Wayne family.

Matt's eyes twitched.

"You mean—Catherine?"

"I'm talking about someone like her." Richard picked up his whiskey, but didn't drink it, just twirled the glass in his hand. "An ambitious, resourceful person, but without connections. She knows how the rules of this world work, but she's not at that level yet."

What she lacks is not ability, but resources and a platform where she can utilize her abilities.

He placed the cup on the coffee table; the sound of glass hitting wood was very soft.

"How much did we spend this time? The legal team flew in from Atlanta, three lawyers worked for two days, plus the preliminary investigation, evidence collection, and communication costs with that professor. Not counting my time, the cash expenditure alone was over six figures."

He held up one finger.

"If this money doesn't yield a return, it will be a serious loss. The Wayne family will not treat our friend Lin Yuan unfairly. He is your partner, and once his brand takes off, the profits we gain from his growth will be enough to offset this loss in the long run."

But that's making amends from friends, not enemies.

He lowered his finger.

"Since I can't make up for it with my friends, I'll just have to squeeze every last drop of value out of this woman."

77

Matt's expression shifted from confusion to a complex look, somewhere between understanding and resistance.

"You want her to work for us?"

"Not for me," Richard said, looking at Matt. "For you."

Matt was stunned.

"You'll be graduating next year," Richard said. "What are you planning to do? Go back to Boston to work for the family trust? Or continue working as Lin Yuan's cameraman?"

Matt's lips moved, but he didn't say anything.

"I don't object to you filming Lin Yuan," Richard's tone softened. "His skills certainly deserve to be seen by more people. But your life can't revolve solely around others. You need your own career, your own network, and your own team."

He pointed to the copy of the agreement on the coffee table—a copy Harris had left behind before he left.

"The agreement she signed is a collar that controls her. Not for now, but for someday in the future, when you need someone to do things that you can't do yourself—you'll think of her."

An ambitious, resourceful person whom you have personally defeated is far more useful than a mediocre person who is loyal to you.

Matt lowered his head and looked at the agreement.

"Do you think I can handle her?" he asked.

"Not now," Richard said. "But what about five years from now? Ten years from now? When you're with Lin Yuan, you'll see how he went from being an international student to an internationally renowned blacksmith."

You will learn his focus, his composure, and his attention to detail. These qualities will help you grow into someone you never imagined you would become.

He stood up, walked over to Matt, and put his hand on his shoulder.

"By then, Catherine will no longer be a threat to you. She will be a tool. A very useful tool."

Matt looked up at his father. Richard's gaze held neither reproach nor expectation, only a quiet, unwavering certainty.

“You don’t need to agree with me right now,” Richard said. “You just need to remember—this isn’t the end. It’s the beginning. For you, and for her.”

He patted Matt on the shoulder, then turned and walked toward his bedroom.

The bedroom door was closed.

Matt sat on the sofa, staring at the agreement for a long time. Emily stood up, walked over to him, and sat down beside him.

"elder brother."

Matt looked up.

"Dad's right," Emily said softly but firmly. "Not all enemies need to be killed. Some people are more useful alive than dead."

Matt gave a wry smile. "When did you become so—pragmatic?"

"It started with that time your roommate slapped a little girl to help her," Emily said. "Sometimes, kindness is our goal, but we must have some means to maintain it if we want to be kind."

She stood up, picked up her almost untouched glass of whiskey, went to the kitchen, and poured it into the sink. She rinsed the glass clean and placed it upside down on the drainer.

Goodnight, bro.

"Good night."

Emily went into her room and closed the door.

Matt sat alone in the living room, holding a glass of whiskey that had lost its ice. The rain was still falling outside, its patter filling the room.

He picked up his phone and sent a message to Lin Yuan.

"The matter is resolved."

After the message was sent, the reply came in quickly.

"What was the result?"

Matt thought for a moment, typed a line, deleted it, typed another line, and deleted it again. In the end, he only sent one sentence.

"Catherine signed a settlement agreement."

Lin Yuan's reply was just one word: "Okay."

Matt stared at the word, leaned back on the sofa, and closed his eyes.

He still held the whiskey glass in his hand; the glass was no longer cool, only the warmth of his palm remained.

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