Rejected by Three, I Chose Revenge Chapter 07
The Pacific Business Forum buzzed with the energy of a hundred power brokers, their voices creating a symphony of deal-making and corporate ambition i stood at the edge of the main presentation hall, watching tech entrepreneurs pitch their visions to rooms full of skeptical investors. The VanceAl Incubator had three companies presenting today, and I was here to support them-and to be seen supporting them
The morning sessions had gone well. Our neural interface startup had secured preliminary interest from two major venture capital firms, and our quantum computing team had fielded serious questions about their encryption protocols. I was reviewing notes on my tablet when a familiar voice cut through the ambient noise
“Hazel Whitman. Or should I say, Mrs. Vance now?”
I looked up to find Jaxson Cole approaching, his Armani suit perfectly tailored, his smile sharp as a blade. He moved with the predatory confidence of a shark sensing blood in the water, flanked by two junior associates who looked like they’d stepped out of an investment banking recruitment poster.
“Mr. Cole,” I replied, my voice carefully neutral. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“The forum attracts serious investors, and I’m always looking for opportunities.” His eyes glittered with something that made my skin crawl. “I heard you’re running some kind of tech incubator now. Fascinating career pivot for someone with your… background.”
The pause before ‘background’ carried all the condescension he could muster. Around us, conversations continued, but I could feel the subtle shift in
attention. People were watching, sensing the tension crackling between us.
“Yes, Vanceal has been quite successful,” I said, closing my tablet with deliberate calm. “We’re particularly proud of our due diligence process.”
“Due diligence,” Jaxson repeated, his tone suggesting I’d just claimed expertise in rocket science. “How refreshing. Tell me, what’s your take on the current volatility in the NASDAQ composite? Specifically regarding the tech sector’s exposure to rising interest rates?”
His associates smirked, clearly expecting me to stumble. This was a test, a public humiliation disguised as professional curiosity. Jaxson wanted to expose me as an amateur playing in a professional’s game.
“Well, I began, feeling the familiar steel settle into my spine, “the NASDAQ’s recent fluctuations reflect more than just interest rate sensitivity. There’s a fundamental disconnect between valuation metrics and actual revenue sustainability across mid-cap tech stocks.”
Jaxson’s eyebrows rose slightly, but his smile remained predatory. “Interesting theory. But surely you understand that algorithmic trading has fundamentally altered market dynamics? The old models of valuation-*
“Are exactly why your fund lost forty-seven million last quarter,” I interrupted, my voice carrying clearly across the nearby conversations. “Your algorithmic models failed to account for geopolitical instability affecting semiconductor supply chains. Basic oversight, really.”
The color drained from Jaxson’s face. His associates exchanged uncomfortable glances, suddenly very interested in their phones.
“I’m not sure where you’re getting your information-” he started.
“SEC filings are public record, Mr. Cole. Your fund’s exposure to Taiwan Semiconductor and ASML was catastrophically overleveraged when the trade tensions escalated in Q3. I pulled out my tablet, scrolling to a document Caleb had shared with me the night before. “In fact, your current short position on quantum computing stocks suggests you’re betting against the very technologies that will define the next decade.”
Jaxson’s jaw tightened. “Market timing requires sophisticated analysis-”
“It requires understanding technology, not just spreadsheets.” I turned my tablet toward him, displaying a detailed breakdown of his fund’s positions. “Your short position on quantum encryption companies shows a fundamental misunderstanding of government defense contracts. The Pentagon just announced a twelve-billion-dollar investment in quantum-resistant security protocols. Every company you’re betting against just became essential to national security
The silence around us had grown thicker. Other forum attendees were openly listening now, some pulling out phones to record what was clearly becoming a public evisceration.
“Furthermore,” I continued, my voice gaining confidence with each word, “your fund’s reliance on high-frequency trading algorithms makes you vulnerable to the exact kind of market manipulation you claim to profit from. One coordinated effort by institutional investors, and your entire strategy collapses.”
Jaxson’s face had gone from pale to flushed, his carefully maintained composure cracking. “You’re making some very serious accusations-*
I’m stating publicly available facts.” I closed my tablet with a sharp click. The question is whether you’re incompetent or simply gambling with your
Investors’ money. Either way, it’s not a fund I’d recommend to anyone who understands the market.
One of his associates tugged at his sleeve, whispering urgently in his ear. Jaxson straightened, his mask of professional courtesy slipping entirely
“This conversation is over,” he said, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.
“Of course it is,” I replied smoothly. “After all, you have a fund to salvage.”
As Jaxson stalked away, his associates trailing behind like chastened puppies, I felt a surge of satisfaction that was both intoxicating and dangerous. The nearby conversations resumed, but I caught fragments-whispered assessments of what they’d just witnessed, speculation about my sources, grudging respect for the precision of my attack.
Dr. Sarah Chen appeared at my elbow, her expression somewhere between impressed and concerned. “That was… thorough,” she said quietly.
“Thorough is my specialty,” I replied, watching Jaxson’s retreating figure disappear into the crowd.
The rest of the forum passed in a blur of networking and presentations, but I could feel the shift in how people looked at me. Word had spread quickly through the investor community-Hazel Vance had just publicly dismantled one of New York’s most arrogant hedge fund managers. The whispers followed me from room to room, a mixture of curiosity and wariness that felt like victory.
That evening, back in my office at the VanceAl building, I was reviewing acquisition targets when my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
*You think you’re clever, don’t you? Playing games above your level. Some people need to learn their place before they get hurt.*
I stared at the message, feeling ice settle in my stomach. The number was blocked, but the tone was unmistakably threatening. I screenshot the message and forwarded it to Lucas Thorne, Caleb’s security chief.
Another message arrived within minutes.
*Daddy’s money and a crippled husband won’t protect you forever. Stop embarrassing yourself.*
Then another.
*We know where you live. We know where you work. Back off while you still can.*
I saved each message, forwarding them to Lucas. The threats were crude but effective-someone wanted me scared, wanted me to retreat back into the
shadows where I belonged.
Instead, I felt something cold and sharp crystallize in my chest. They thought intimidation would work because it always had before. They expected the frightened girl who’d been mocked and dismissed for years.
They were about to meet someone entirely different.
I opened my laptop and began researching shell companies and offshore investment vehicles. If they wanted to play games above my level, I’d show them
exactly how high I was willing to climb.
