A $50 million margin call? I'll short Wall Street.

745 Seventh Avenue, Lehman Brothers headquarters, 31st floor.

Richard Fuld was in the best mood he had been in the past three weeks this afternoon.

Oh no, to be more precise—it's not that bad. In his recent emotional spectrum, this is already considered sunny.

He stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in his pockets, watching the Manhattan skyline bathed in the warm gold of the evening sun. His own silhouette was reflected in the glass: his shoulders were a little broader than three weeks ago, not because he had gained weight, but simply because they were no longer unconsciously tense as they had been a few days ago.

The Bloomberg terminal on the table was still lit. On the screen, Lehman Brothers' closing price was frozen at a number that finally allowed him to breathe normally.

It increased by 16%.

Sixteen percent in a single day.

The suffocating feeling of being strangled by an unseen hand for the past three weeks eased a bit this afternoon. It was enough for him to breathe into his lungs, instead of just getting air into his throat and then having it blocked.

He turned around, walked back to his desk, and took out a box of Montecristo cigars that he hadn't touched in a long time from the drawer.

For the past two weeks, he hasn't been able to even smoke a cigar; stomach cramps make him nauseous at the smell of smoke.

It's okay today.

He cut the cap off the cigar, lit it, took a deep drag, and then slowly exhaled, the smoke creating a blurry white cloud against the glass of the French windows.

The SEC's ban on naked short selling. Paulson's bazooka.

Two heavy blows landed on the faces of those short sellers on the same day.

Fuld stared at the orange-red burning point at the tip of the cigar, a smile, the first aggressive one in three weeks, tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Those vultures.

Those bastards who dissect Lehman Brothers' financial statements on PowerPoint presentations.

That Jewish scholar named Einhorn.

And that Chinese-American brat and his damn open letter.

Do you think the government will side with you? Do you think Washington will just stand by and watch you tear apart Wall Street's century-old foundation, one building at a time?

The SEC's injunction today makes it very clear: you are not allowed to sell anymore.

Paulson's statement today made it even clearer: the government will bail them out.

Fuld placed the cigar on the ashtray.

A new, inexpensive replacement that the secretary bought last week to replace the crystal ashtray he smashed.

He walked behind his desk, sat down, and picked up the document that had been lying on the table unread.

A new negotiation memorandum from the Korea Development Bank (KDB).

KDB has been in contact with Lehman Brothers' investment banking division for the past month, tentatively discussing the possibility of capital injection or even acquisition.

South Koreans are indeed very interested in this deal. They want to pick up bargains while the US financial markets are sluggish, buy a reputable Wall Street investment bank, and plant a flag for South Korea's financial industry on the international stage.

But Fuld's attitude toward the deal has always been ambivalent.

On the one hand, he needs capital.

Lehman Brothers' balance sheet was burdened by tens of billions of dollars in commercial real estate exposure and toxic CDO positions, like an increasingly heavy lead weight hanging around the company's neck. Each day the stock price fell, that lead weight grew heavier. New capital injections could alleviate this pressure, giving the company time to divest itself of those bad assets and restore market confidence.

On the other hand, he didn't want to be bought off at a low price.

Lehman Brothers belonged to him. Not in a legal sense (after all, he only owned about 0.5% of the shares).

Rather, it is a deeper, almost physiological sense of belonging.

Forty years.

He lived in this building for forty years.

From a poor boy from the Bronx to the absolute ruler of the fourth largest investment bank on Wall Street.

He single-handedly assembled the entire organization, from every floor and every meeting room to every person at the trading table.

Letting Koreans in is not out of the question. But the price must be their price.

Three weeks ago, when Lehman Brothers' stock price plummeted from over thirty dollars to thirteen dollars, the eyes of KDB's negotiators gleamed with the same glint Fuld had seen countless times on Wall Street—the glint of flies on rotting flesh. They began to drive down the price.

Their latest offer implies a valuation of approximately eight to ten dollars per share.

Eight to ten dollars.

When Fuld saw the number, he almost smashed the new ashtray.

But he held back.

His advisors told him he couldn't scare the Koreans away at this time. He needed to let the market know the fact that "someone was interested in Lehman Brothers"—a crucial narrative supporting the stock price and confidence.

So he kept putting it off.

They neither accepted nor rejected. They kept the KDB representatives waiting in the hotel, arranging "technical discussions" every few days, without making any substantive progress on any terms.

What is he waiting for?

He himself wasn't entirely sure.

Perhaps they are waiting for a better bidder to appear.

Perhaps he was waiting for the market to rebound so that Lehman's stock price would return to a level where he wouldn't feel ashamed.

Maybe I'm just waiting for a feeling, that intuition that "the timing is right".

Today, the stock price rose by 16%.

Fuld picked up the KDB memo and turned to the last page. It contained a summary of the current state of negotiations and recommendations from the investment banking department.

The suggestion was worded tactfully, but the core message was: KDB's patience is slowly wearing thin. Domestic political pressure in South Korea is mounting.

South Korea’s Financial Supervisory Commission (FSC) is taking an increasingly cautious approach to the deal.

If Lehman Brothers cannot provide a clear signal in the coming weeks—either accepting the investment terms or proposing a counter-proposal that KDB can bring back to Seoul for discussion—the Koreans may leave.

After reading this passage, Fuld picked up his pen and wrote a line in the blank space of the memo.

The handwriting was very heavy, and the pen tip almost tore through the paper.

Tell them we're not in a hurry.

He put down his pen.

Today's 16% gain gave him confidence. The SEC's injunction silenced the short sellers. Paulson's rocket launcher stabilized market confidence.

Perhaps Lehman's stock price will continue to rebound.

Perhaps next week, when he faces KDB, he will have a much stronger hand than he does now.

In that situation, why would you sell yourself at the lowest point?

Let the Koreans wait.

He waited until he felt the time was right.

Fuld pushed the KDB memo to the side of the table and picked up another document that was underneath it.

This one is thicker. The cover bears the logo of Lehman Brothers Investment Management (IMD).

Neuberger Berman divestiture plan – revised version.

Michael Stern's proposal.

Fuld looked at the document, his brow furrowing slightly.

Last month, at the executive committee meeting that nearly turned into a coup, he rejected Stern's proposal in front of everyone. His exact words were—"You're suggesting I cut off my right hand in the street."

But that was last month.

Last month he was forced to sell Gregory and Cullen. Last month Lehman's stock price was in freefall. Last month, the first thing he did every morning was check the overnight repurchase market to see if anyone was refusing Lehman's collateral.

Things are different now.

Naked short selling ban. Rocket launcher. A 16% rebound.

In this environment, Neuberger Berman's divestiture is no longer a desperate act of selling at a loss. It can be repackaged as a "strategic capital optimization move"—we are not being forced to sell at a low price, we are actively releasing value.

Fuld opened Stern's plan.

Stern wrote in great detail. Neuberger Berman managed over $200 billion in client assets, contributing over $300 million in stable returns to Lehman Brothers annually.

Its portfolio is completely clean, with not a single cent of subprime exposure. In the current market environment, a high-quality independent asset management firm is valued at approximately two to three percent of its assets under management.

Based on this range, Neuberger Berman's fair value is approximately between four billion and six billion US dollars.

Stern's proposal suggested an IPO or strategic sale with a valuation of $5 billion to $6 billion, using the proceeds to bolster Lehman's capital buffer.

Fuld stopped when he saw the number.

Five billion to six billion.

He mentally flipped through the number.

too low.

Then he picked up a pen, drew a thick horizontal line next to the valuation range Stern had written, and wrote another number next to it.

10 billion.