Billionaire Cashback System: I Can't Go Broke!-Chapter 46: The Invite

A brief silence.

Mike spoke first, which Ryan hadn’t expected. "Because my last company was spending time building something nobody needed for people who didn’t care, and I watched it happen and stayed anyway because the salary was fine." He shrugged. "This one has a reason to exist. That’s not as common as it sounds."

Liam said, "The problem is a real one. I’ve worked inside companies that were drowning in exactly what we’re describing. I know what the solution is worth to the people who need it."

Danny said, "Ryan called me after years of not talking and told me we were going to build what we said we’d build in college. That’s the reason."

Sophie’s answer was more straightforward.

---

Sophie said, "I believed in the product before I believed in the salary. The salary helped."

Iralis said, "The technical problem is interesting. The team is competent. Those two things together are rarer than people assume."

Diana sat with that for a moment. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Then she looked at Dr. Cole.

Dr. Cole closed her portfolio. Looked at Diana. Gave a single nod.

"Thank you," Diana said to the team. "I’d like a few minutes with Ryan."

They filed out fast, like people who understood a dismissal. Danny caught Ryan’s eye on the way past — a brief look that asked a question Ryan answered with a small nod.

The door closed.

Diana and Ryan sitting close at the left end of the long empty table.

Diana poured herself a coffee from the carafe that had been sitting untouched since the meeting started. She didn’t offer Ryan one, which he took as a sign that the formal portion of the morning was over.

"Dr. Cole doesn’t nod," Diana said.

"Never?"

"Not in three years of working together." She wrapped both hands around the cup. "Your systems architect is exceptional."

"I know."

"She doesn’t know she is, which makes her more so."

Ryan said nothing to that because it was accurate and Diana wasn’t asking for confirmation.

Diana set the cup down. "I’ll move forward with the investment. The documentation will be ready for signing by end of next week — my attorney is handling the backdating structure we discussed. It will be clean."

"Thank you."

"Don’t thank me. I’m doing it because the company is worth it, not as a favor." She looked at the table surface for a moment. "The IRS inquiry — when is it?"

"Two weeks."

"By the time you sit down in that room the paperwork will be in order. The capital injection will appear in your company records six weeks ago. The deposits will map to disbursements from that investment." She looked up. "You’ll need to know the details of the investment terms well enough to answer questions about them without looking like you’re remembering something you were told."

"I’ll know them."

"The date we allegedly met to discuss terms."

"I’ll know it."

"Good." She picked up her coffee again. "The board seat — advisory, non-voting, as we discussed. I’ll want monthly reporting. Revenue metrics, technical milestones, team status. Not a deck, just numbers and a paragraph of context."

"Sophie will set up the reporting structure."

"Your assistant."

"My assistant and lead designer."

Diana looked at him. "That’s an unusual combination."

"She’s an unusual person."

Diana accepted that, moved on. "The team meeting cadence with me — quarterly, in person, here. If something material changes before then I expect a call, not an email."

"Understood."

She crossed her legs, the shift of weight turning her slightly in the chair, and the movement pulled the hem of her skirt a degree higher than it had been. The pantyhose caught the light from the windows, pulled tight against her thigh — and Ryan looked at her face instead, which was the correct decision, but not before the half-second in which he didn’t.

If she noticed, she didn’t show it.

If she did it on purpose, she didn’t show that either.

Ryan had spent enough time in the last month reading people across tables to know the difference between unconscious movement and something else, and he was genuinely uncertain which one this was, which was itself an answer of some kind.

"There’s one more thing," Diana said.

"Okay."

She reached into the folder she’d brought in and produced an envelope, slid it across the table. Ryan picked it up. Inside was a card — heavy stock, minimal design, an address and a date.

"Lockridge Foundation annual dinner," Diana said. "Three weeks from Saturday. Black tie." She picked up her coffee. "It’s a room that’s useful for a founder to be seen in. Press, finance, a few politicians, the kind of old money that writes checks to things they believe in."

Ryan looked at the card. "You want me there."

"I want Bridge there," she said. "You happen to come with it."

Ryan set the card down on the table. "I’ll be there."

Diana nodded, the matter closed, and stood.

Ryan stood.

She picked up the folder. "Your team is good, Ryan. Don’t let them get comfortable."

"They won’t."

"Good." She moved toward the door, then stopped with her hand on the frame. Looked back at him with direct steadiness that hadn’t shifted once across the entire morning.

"Just by the way," she said, "Dr. Cole has reviewed forty-three early stage companies in the past two years."

Ryan waited.

"She’s recommended six," Diana said.

She left.

Ryan stood in the empty boardroom for a moment, the city visible through the glass on two sides, the coffee carafe still steaming faintly, the envelope on the table in front of him.

He picked it up.

Black tie. Three weeks from Saturday.

He mind went to what Zara had said on the balcony. About the city below, the dreams that made it and the ones that didn’t.

He put the card in his jacket pocket.

His phone buzzed.

Danny: *How’d it go*

Ryan typed back: *We’re in.*

Three dots appeared immediately.

Then: *I’m buying the beers tonight.*

Ryan looked at the city through the glass.

He picked up his briefcase, buttoned his jacket, and walked out.

He was closer.