"That's why I said I'm here to help you, Mr. Gaston. I can help you find the money."
Gaston's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Find money? What fool would throw money into this Boston quagmire these days?"
" Wall Street, cash," Lin Qi said calmly. "Over one hundred million dollars."
In an instant, everyone in the office jerked their heads up. The CFO, who had been pretending to be dead, and the legal director, who had been standing in the corner, all stared at Lin Qi with incredulous eyes.
Gaston didn't respond immediately. He stared at the young man in front of him, trying to find a flaw in Lin Qi's expression.
Lin Qi added calmly.
"This isn't an installment plan, nor is it a verbal promise that requires you to wait months for a complicated audit process. It's real money, cash that will be directly deposited into your account before the June 30th deadline."
Gaston's Adam's apple bobbed laboriously. For someone driven to desperation by debt, the word "cash" held absolute allure.
"You... you want me to sell the Celtics completely?"
Lin Qi met his gaze without flinching. "To be precise, I want to help you leave this burning house with dignity before your clothes are burned to ashes."
As soon as he finished speaking, the CEO's office fell into an almost suffocating silence.
Gaston's expression was a complex mix of emotions: anger at being driven to the brink by a junior, humiliation at losing assets, and a violent wavering that he could not suppress in the face of absolute profit.
Lin Qi knew all too well when these capitalists would surrender, so he deliberately slowed down his speech.
" Chris Paul, to be honest, you only have two paths before you now."
"First, you can keep your arrogance and continue pushing your restructuring plan. Then let Matt Damon hold prime-time press conferences every night to call you a thief, let Auerbach the Cardinal go on the radio every few days to say you've disgraced him, let the minority shareholders' lawyers go to court every day to apply for injunctions, let the Internal Revenue Service auditors camp out at your door every day demanding documents, and while you're at it, watch how your two partners prepare your coffin behind your back. You can bet your life and fortune on it, betting that all the troubles will miraculously disappear under God's blessing."
Lin Qi smiled slightly and turned to the second page of the document in his hand.
"The second option is for you to sell the team to a clean consortium comprised entirely of Boston's local elites. The cash will be deposited into your private trust within five days. All the thorny minority shareholder lawsuits will be handled by the new buyer, and Matt Damon and the Hollywood clique will be dealt with by them. As for Pitino's mess, Garnett's contract negotiations, the plummeting box office, and the Internal Revenue Service inquiry... all of that will be completely removed from your desk. You will no longer be the New York robber who was hated by everyone on the streets of Boston, trying to steal the team. In the press releases, you will be a gentleman who gracefully handed over the reins for the greater good when the team was in chaos."
Gaston let out an extremely harsh, cold laugh, "Gentleman? Decency? Decency bought with tens of millions of dollars?"
"Believe me, Chris Paul, this is definitely more dignified than having your assets liquidated by the court," Lin Qi added with a smile.
Gaston was completely choked, his face turning red. After a long while, he seemed to give in, leaning forward and asking in a low voice.
"Tell me, who is the buyer? Who can come up with 100 million in cash at this time?"
This time, Lin Qi didn't directly name a conglomerate. He simply took a cigar from his suit pocket, smelled it, and uttered a few words in a low voice.
" The Cardinal will step forward again to take charge."
Gaston was stunned, followed by a sense of unbelievable absurdity.
" Auerbach? That old guy who has nothing but cigars and a bunch of chronic illnesses? Don't be ridiculous, Lin! All of Boston knows he's broke!"
"He certainly doesn't have money, but he doesn't need to." Lin Qi tapped the table lightly with his pen cap. "He just needs to sit in the very center of the new consortium's press conference and convince all the citizens of Boston and their die-hard fans... that this team, representing sixteen championship trophies, wasn't sold to a bunch of vultures from Wall Street. That's enough."
Lin Qi continued to calmly reveal his trump card.
Matt Damon will have a perfect way to gracefully exit the situation. Not only him, but Ben Affleck, Mark Wahlberg, and several other highly respected Boston Celtics and retired stars will all be invited to join this new consortium. They won't receive control over the team's fate, but rather symbolic, negligible equity. But this equity will be enough for them to stand tall before the cameras and tell the entire nation: 'The people of Boston have won back their team.'
Upon hearing this, Gaston finally understood completely.
This is not a normal business asset acquisition at all. This is a carefully orchestrated stage play targeting public opinion across the United States, the entire Boston community, and even the NBA league!
Auerbach the Cardinal was responsible for upholding the legacy and the spirit of the team; Hollywood star Matt Damon was responsible for guiding public opinion and keeping quiet; local celebrities were responsible for providing the spotlight and generating buzz; Celtics legends were responsible for evoking the city's memories. The real financial backers, the ones who truly control this super-powerful team after the curtain falls, are hidden behind these glamorous " Boston cards."
"So... the so-called 'mysterious financiers' are those few big investment banks on Wall Street that don't want to show their faces?"
Lin Qi leaned back on the sofa and calmly nodded. "You can understand it that way."
Gaston narrowed his eyes, looking at him suspiciously. "Did you act as the go-between and bring them here?"
"I just happened to play the role of an intermediary connecting money and the stage." Lin Qi's answer was artistic, deliberately leaving a gap for interpretation.
Gaston understood the underlying meaning. But at this moment, he was like a drowning man about to lose consciousness, with no time to investigate which true god was sitting behind that crack. The only thing on his mind right now was money.
"Name your price," Gaston gritted his teeth. "How much is the new consortium willing to offer?"
Without any hesitation, Lin Qi pushed the first page of the contract right under Gaston's nose.
"One hundred and twenty million US dollars. All in cash."