“They offered Professor Higgins twice the book value for his preferred shares,” I said, the realization settling like lead in my chest.

“Exactly,” Marcus said. “Higgins called my office this morning to ask if we were restructuring.”

“He was confused,” Marcus added. “He thought we were trying to clean up the cap table before the Series A closed.”

“Did Higgins sell?” Derek asked.

“No,” Marcus said. “He called us first because he wanted to be loyal to Sarah.”

“But others might,” Marcus warned. “Two of your former Stanford classmates who put in ten thousand each have already signed letters of intent.”

I looked across the dining room.

Our team was laughing, the sound of their voices bouncing off the brick walls of the private dining room.

Sam was raising his glass, his face flushed with the excitement of our upcoming announcement.

The smell of roasted lamb and rosemary drifted from the kitchen, but my appetite was completely gone.

“Why would she do this?” I whispered to Derek.

Derek rubbed his forehead, his thumb pressing into his temple.

“You know why,” Derek said quietly.