Elias looked at the "Exit Strategy" clause. It promised him wealth, but it guaranteed the termination of three hundred employees—people who had worked in his garage when the company was just a dream. He thought of Sarah in accounting, who was putting her son through college, and Mike in the warehouse, who had just bought his first home.
His fingers touched the cool paper. The pressure from his board of directors was immense. The prestige was beckoning. But the pit in his stomach had grown into a chasm. He realized that "winning" this deal meant losing his soul. Don’t get the deal
"The terms have changed," Elias said, standing up. "Or rather, I have. My people aren't line items on a spreadsheet. They’re the reason this company exists. If this deal requires their heads, then there is no deal." Elias looked at the "Exit Strategy" clause
"I can't do it," Elias said. The words were quiet, but they cut through the room like a blade. His fingers touched the cool paper
Marcus blinked, his smile faltering. "Excuse me? We’ve spent six months on this."
Write a where the choice has immediate consequences.
"You're walking away from forty million dollars over sentimentality?" Marcus laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "You'll be bankrupt by Christmas."