Then came Crypto Vault, a blockchain payment platform valued at $300 million. It imploded when regulators found fabricated transaction volumes. $28 million gone. Raymond had sent an email warning about suspicious metrics. It went to spam.

Next was Neuraloft AI. It shut down after clients discovered the "AI" was actually hundreds of underpaid workers in the Philippines. $17 million evaporated. Raymond had tried mentioning the strange server costs to a junior analyst and was told to mind his own business.

Now, the firm's founder, Derek Ashford, was doubling down. The target was Technova, and the bet was $120 million—everything the firm had left, plus borrowed capital. Win, and Derek becomes a Wall Street legend. Lose, and Venture Tech ceases to exist. The SEC was already circling, investor redemption requests were piling higher each day, and board meetings had gone from quarterly to daily.

Technova smelled worse than all the others combined. Six months back, Raymond had dug into their S-1 filing for their planned IPO. Technova was booking entire three-year contract values immediately. If a client signed a $9 million deal, Technova counted all $9 million that quarter. It was technically legal but completely misleading. Their operating cash flow was negative $67 million, despite reporting $200 million in revenue. They were bleeding to death.

A week ago, Raymond had tried to warn Tyler, a young MBA analyst, face-to-face. "Excuse me, sir," Raymond had said, pointing to the screens. "There might be concerns with their cash flow." Tyler had barely glanced up. "Bro. No offense, but you clean the toilets. I have a Wharton MBA. I think I can handle this."

Derek Ashford's voice boomed across the boardroom. Laughter erupted from the thirty investors and board members present. Raymond looked up from his mop bucket near the doorway.

"Yeah, you heard me right," Derek said, walking closer, his face split into a cruel grin. "Eighteen years you've been cleaning our floors. Eighteen years watching us make millions. So, come on. Teach me to invest, Raymond."

He held up a glossy Technova prospectus, then dropped it deliberately at Raymond's feet. "Pick it up. Show these Wharton graduates your expertise."

More laughter echoed off the glass walls. Derek tossed down his Hermes tie clip, letting it clatter against the floorboards. "Or stick to what you actually know. Mopping."

Raymond bent slowly, his joints aching. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."