“Who was that?”
“My investment manager. David Chin.”
Marcus repeated the phrase.
“Your investment manager?”
“Yes.”
“You have a portfolio?”
I smiled slightly.
“Running a technology company doesn’t prevent me from diversifying.”
Nobody laughed.
“It’s investment basics. Never put everything in one basket.”
Dad’s phone buzzed.
He checked the message.
His face changed again.
“Bill at the bank says Pacific Northwest Ventures’ legal team contacted him about our account status and creditworthiness.”
“That’s unusual,” I said.
Mom snapped toward me.
“Why?”
“Investment firms don’t normally make direct banking inquiries immediately after withdrawing funding.”
“Unless what?”
“Unless they’re considering additional action.”
Thomas stared.
“Like what?”
“A buyout. Acquisition. Restructuring.”
I shrugged.
“Hard to know without understanding their strategy.”
Victoria had stopped looking worried.
Now she was looking suspicious.
“You know an awful lot about their strategy.”
“I told you. I’ve studied them.”
“Nobody studies a private investment firm that closely for no reason.”
Her eyes stayed on mine.
“What’s your reason, Emma?”
“Professional curiosity.”
Dad’s phone rang again.
He answered immediately.
“Yes?”
His expression tightened.
“What?”
Nobody spoke.
“You can’t be serious.”
Another pause.
“Fine. Thank you for informing me.”
He hung up.
Mom leaned toward him.
“What happened?”
“The Morrison Building.”
“What about it?”
“They’re exercising their majority control.”
Dad looked numb.
“Effective immediately, Anderson Holdings is no longer managing the property. Pacific Northwest Ventures is taking direct control.”
“They can’t do that,” Marcus said.
“They can,” I replied.
“If they own the majority.”
Dad slowly turned toward me.
“What percentage?”
“I believe fifty-one percent.”
Every head moved toward me.
“How could you possibly know that?” Dad asked.
“Property records.”
I paused.
“Actually, PNV holds majority or substantial minority positions in most of the major properties Anderson Holdings manages.”
Dad stared.
“The Morrison Building. Riverside. Downtown parking structures. Harborview Apartments.”
Mom shook her head.
“That’s impossible. We would know if one firm controlled that much.”
“Would you?”
She stopped.
“Do you personally review every shareholder agreement? Every subsidiary? Every ownership vehicle attached to every property?”
Thomas was typing again.
His face became increasingly pale.
“She’s right.”
“About what?” Marcus asked.
“PNV is everywhere.”
He rotated the laptop.
“Morrison. Riverside. Harborview. Several of the parking structures. Different corporate entities, different dates—but they all lead back to PNV.”
“How did nobody notice?” Victoria said.
“Because that’s their strategy,” I replied.
“They don’t enter through one door. They acquire positions gradually through separate subsidiaries.”
I looked toward Dad.
“Quietly.”
Nobody interrupted.
“Once they have enough strategic control, they can move.”
Victoria looked at the laptop.
“It’s like they planned this.”
“They probably did.”
Dad’s eyes moved back to me.
I continued.
“Pacific Northwest Ventures doesn’t invest accidentally. Every acquisition has a purpose. Every position creates leverage somewhere else.”
I paused.
“They play chess while everybody else is playing checkers.”
Dad watched me for several seconds.
“Emma.”
His voice was different.
“How do you really know all this?”
“I already told you.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Nobody knows that level of detail about a private firm from reading.”
The room quieted.
“You know ownership percentages. Acquisition strategies. Legal structures.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You aren’t guessing.”
Outside, a car passed along the private road.
Inside, nobody moved.
The chandelier crystals made a faint sound in the ventilation draft.
I took a breath.
“You want to know about Pacific Northwest Ventures?”
“Yes.”
“All right.”
I picked up my phone.
I opened my email and found a message from David.
Then I forwarded it to my father.
“Check your phone.”
A second later, Dad’s device chimed.
He opened the email.
For several seconds, his face showed nothing.
Then confusion.
Then shock.
Then understanding.
“What is it?” Mom asked.
She reached for the phone.
Her hand rose toward her mouth.
Marcus leaned over Dad’s shoulder.
“No.”
He looked closer.
“No way.”
The email had a simple subject line:
Pacific Northwest Ventures LLC — Ownership Structure and Portfolio Summary.
Below it was the information Anderson Holdings had spent the evening desperately trying to uncover.
The Morrison Building.
Riverside Complex.
Harborview Apartments.
Fifteen additional real-estate holdings.
Seven technology companies.
Investment structures.
Ownership percentages.
Portfolio values.
And near the bottom:
Primary Shareholder and Founder: Emma Anderson.
Total Assets Under Management: $847 million.
Dad stared at the screen.
Then at me.
“You?”
Nobody moved.
“You’re Pacific Northwest Ventures?”
“I am.”
Victoria’s wineglass slipped from her fingers and struck the table.
The glass broke against the edge, sending wine across the white tablecloth.
Nobody reached for it.
Marcus looked as though he had forgotten how to speak.
“That’s impossible.”
He pointed vaguely toward me.
“You make apps.”
“I do make apps.”
My voice stayed calm.
“Anderson Tech Solutions generates roughly thirty million dollars in annual revenue.”
Thomas blinked.
“But that isn’t where most of your money comes from.”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“Investments.”
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