Kaitlyn Parker was the bad bitch shaking up the old boys' club. Top of her class at Stanford, four years at Bain, Harvard MBA, and then straight to Sand Hill Road, where her eye for potential brought enormous success, leading to her being named the third-youngest partner in firm history.
But that wasn't enough for Kaitlyn. She moved to the East coast, setting up a PE firm, and raising three funds on the strength of her name alone. She continued her amazing run, making money hand over fist for her investors, while cementing her reputation as a cold operator--a shark who lived for tense negotiations, and enjoyed nothing more than flaunting her success in front of the board, subtly twisting the knife, telling them in so many words that they were old, out-of-touch, that their generational wealth was useful, but not as useful as her brilliance. Oh, and by the way, she did it all as a woman.
That sure-footed attitude, that cockiness, led to fame. She was a household name for anyone who followed financial news. She had missed out on the 30 under 30 list by a few years, but made up for it with a half-dozen fawning magazine profiles, praising her achievements, her story, her impeccable fashion sense, and, most importantly, her.
One of Kaitlyn's favorite things to do was stand in her beautiful 85th-floor office, put her hands on her desk, and look out at Lower Manhattan. She owned this city, and she knew it.
She didn't feel that way tonight.
In fact, she hadn't felt that way for at least three years. Not since one of those old, washed-up board members noticed a calculation error in the financial packets she had disdainfully thrown at them. And, digging deeper, realized that the error wasn't a problem, but the lack of impairment on clearly distressed assets was. And the massive amount of debt obtained against those assets was an even bigger issue, one that threatened to obliterate the firm, and take billions of dollars along with it.
Kaitlyn hadn't come up with the scheme, of course. It all resulted from a fairly innocent error that wasn't caught by the auditors. But once she realized that the numbers were "real," juicing them became standard operating practice. And, so long as fewer than a quarter of the investors and other partners pulled out of the firm, it would never be discovered.
_______
"YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH!
DID YOU THINK WE WOULDN'T FIND OUT?? DO YOU THINK I'M A FUCKING MORON?"
"Ted, please--"
"DON'T FUCKING 'TED' ME, YOU STUPID CUNT! DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH YOU'VE FUCKED ME? HOW MUCH YOU'VE FUCKED EVERYONE?"
"I really...it's not--."
"It's not what? It's not...a problem? Is that what you're going to say? It's not a
problem
that you're running a scheme here that makes Enron look like a fucking lemonade stand?? Is that what you're saying?"
"No, it's...it's not good, but if less than a quarter pull out--"
"Less than a
quarter
? Less than a
quarter
??"
You don't fucking get it, do you? You don't fucking get that we're not going to have
a quarter
pull out; we're going to have
everyone
pull out. And then...and then, we're fucked. You're fucked, I'm fucked, everyone on the board, every partner, we are all well and truly
fucked
. Billions of dollars. BILLIONS. Gone!
All because you got too fucking greedy. You. Stupid. Bitch."
"I know. I know, and I'm sorry. But this is only a problem if people know about it. And right now, we're the only ones who know about this, if you don't tell anyone--"
*
SMACK
*
I can't fucking believe you! I'm going to tell
everyone
. EVERYONE.
That's the fucking difference between you and me, you fucking cunt.
I
can afford to lose a few billion dollars. You though, YOU are never going to work again. I'm gonna make you kryptonite. If you're lucky, you'll be able to suck cocks on the Turnpike. Make a living that way. If you're lucky.
I'm fucking leaving."
_____
As soon as Ted was out of view, Kaitlyn broke down and cried. He was right. She was ruined. She'd be the female Bernie Madoff, or at the very least, the female Dennis Kozlowski. The female Richard Fuld? The also-female Elizabeth Holmes? She couldn't settle on an analogy, and it was a nicely-depressing activity to complement her shame spiral.
The phone rang. It was Ted.
"Hello?"
"It's me. Listen. I'm home now, and I thought about what I said."
Kaitlyn perked up, surprised she was actually getting an apology call from the man who had slapped her an hour earlier.
"You did?"
"Yeah. I jerked off thinking about you at a truck stop. It'll be a great look for you."
"Ugh"
"Don't 'ugh' me, you stupid fucking cunt. If you end up sucking cocks, it's gonna be your own damn fault.
"You know what, Ted--"
"Shut up and listen to me, bitch. I thought about more than that.
I'm not going to take a fucking bath because of you. So I'm not gonna go to the SEC and I'm not gonna go to the press. As far as anyone knows, you're doing a great job running the company."
"Oh thank you sir, thank you so--"
"Let me fucking finish! You're going to unwind those positions, and we'll take a bath, but it's
nothing
compared to what it could be.
You though. You're fucking done. We'll take over, and even though you'll still be CEO on paper, all deals, all decisions, they're going through us. You don't hire a fucking
intern
without telling us about it. Got it?"
"I...think so.
But what will we tell people?"