Victor returned to his desk.
On it lay a printed copy of Naomi's report.
He picked it up and read the first page.
Her language was cautious.
Her conclusions were limited.
She had not accused him of fraud.
She had not claimed the project was doomed.
She had simply identified questions that the company had not adequately resolved.
That was what made the report so difficult to attack.
If it had been reckless, he could have dismissed it.
If it had been inaccurate, he could have corrected it.
If it had contained unsupported accusations, he could have challenged her professionalism.
Instead, it contained a list of questions that needed answers.
Victor threw the report onto his desk.
He picked up his phone and called Richard.
“Where are we with the updated model?”
“The finance team is reconciling the remediation estimate and the guarantee assumptions.”
“How long?”
“They need several days.”
“Several days?”
“The engineering team must confirm the revised estimate, and legal counsel needs to review the amendment.”
“Why wasn't this done before?”
Richard paused.
“We believed the original assumptions were still usable while the updates were being finalized.”
“Who approved that?”
“I would need to review the record.”
Victor's jaw tightened.
“You're telling me nobody knows?”
“I'm telling you that we need to establish the sequence of approvals before assigning responsibility.”
Victor ended the call.
He sat in silence.
For the first time, the possibility occurred to him that the problem might not be a single mistake.
It might be a chain of small decisions, each made by someone who believed the next person would handle the consequences.
A number was left unchanged because an update was expected.
A summary was distributed because the revised model was still being prepared.
A guarantee was described in broad language because the legal interpretation had not been finalized.
A presentation was approved because the investment committee wanted a clear story.
None of those decisions necessarily involved deliberate deception.
Together, however, they had created a picture that might not accurately represent the project's current position.
Victor understood how that could happen.
He had seen it in other companies.
He had even warned younger executives about the danger of allowing a presentation to become more polished than the facts behind it.
He had never imagined that his own company might be approaching the same problem.
Or perhaps he had imagined it and dismissed the possibility because the project was too important to slow down.
He looked again at Naomi's report.
He did not like her.
He did not like her refusal to be impressed by his title.
He did not like the way she answered questions with questions.
But he could no longer convince himself that she had created the problem.
The problem had existed before she entered the room.
She had merely refused to ignore it.
That afternoon, Henry Lin met with his advisers in a private conference room at his San Francisco hotel.
The meeting included a financial analyst, an infrastructure specialist, a lawyer familiar with California development agreements, and David Chen.
Michael Zhou joined by video.
The group reviewed the available documents.
Their preliminary findings were not dramatic.
They did not reveal a single document proving that the entire project was a sham.
They did not show that every projection was wrong.
Instead, they found several areas where the information presented to investors was incomplete or inconsistent.
The environmental remediation estimate required clarification.
The infrastructure guarantee needed a formal legal interpretation.
The financing model required reconciliation with the amended agreement.
The contingency reserve needed to be evaluated against the updated cost estimate.
Those were ordinary subjects for due diligence.
They were also essential.
Henry listened as the advisers explained their findings.
When they finished, he asked, “Can these issues be resolved?”
The financial analyst answered first.
“Potentially. The project may remain viable, but we cannot confirm that until the model is updated.”
The infrastructure specialist added, “The guarantee may provide meaningful protection, but its timing and conditions need to be understood. We should not rely on the summary language alone.”
The lawyer nodded.
“And we need to determine whether the investor materials accurately describe the current agreement.”
Henry folded his hands.
“Has anyone established that the discrepancies were intentional?”
“No,” the lawyer said. “Not from the documents reviewed so far.”
“Then we will not accuse anyone of intentional misconduct.”
David Chen looked at him.
“Some people may say we are being too cautious.”
Henry's expression remained calm.
“Caution is not the same as indecision. We are considering a major investment. Our responsibility is to understand the terms before committing capital.”
He looked around the room.
“If the project is sound, we can proceed. If the terms need to change, we can negotiate. If the risks are unacceptable, we can walk away. But we will not make the decision based on a presentation that leaves material questions unresolved.”
He paused.
“And I want to speak with Ms. Carter.”
David raised his eyebrows.
“Directly?”
“Yes. Through the appropriate arrangements. I want her to explain the reasoning behind her preliminary findings, not to give us confidential information she is not authorized to share.”
The lawyer nodded.
“That should be possible.”
Henry looked toward the window.
He had spent decades investing in companies across Asia and North America. He had seen brilliant projects fail because their leaders refused to acknowledge uncertainty. He had also seen good projects recover after a difficult review because the people responsible were willing to correct their mistakes.
The distinction often came down to one question.