Chapter 64: The Underwriters
The underwriters did not panic; they requested documents, which frightened Julian more.
Panic could be soothed with charm, lunch, and confident future revenue.
Document requests required documents, and documents were where Serena already waited patiently with originals neatly indexed.
At seven-fifty, the lead bank sent a revised due diligence list across four departments.
Funding history, beneficial ownership, shareholder movements, related-party transactions, client retention, litigation exposure, reputation risk, each category carrying its own small threat.
The list was longer than yesterday’s and colder than Ivy’s worst post.
Derek printed it because paper made denial heavier and harder to wave away.
Julian read the first page standing, the second seated, and the third with his forehead in one hand.
This is excessive, he said.
This is an IPO, Derek said. Excessive is what happens before strangers buy risk.
We can answer most of it, Julian replied.
Most is not a listing standard, Derek said, not softly enough.
Julian looked at him. You are enjoying this.
No, Derek said. I am documenting it.
That sentence landed like a drawer slamming shut inside a quiet office.
Across town, Serena’s team received a softer version of the same questions from Morley’s counsel while buses moved past the window, unaware of the coming stage.
They were no longer asking whether Julian could answer.
They were asking whether Serena could answer faster, cleaner, and without theatrical explanations and with fewer rooms to hide the awkward parts.
Martin spread the underwriter list beside Serena’s transition file.
They are circling the same topics, he said.
Good. One truth should answer several rooms.
Priya prepared packets for Northbridge, Westvale, and Morley: continuity, clean ownership, supplier protection, employee stability, and transparent funding.
No gossip, no Ivy, no slap, because outrage was useful only after risk understood the structure or when.
Serena did not want outrage to do the persuading.
She wanted lower risk to sit on the table until everyone recognised it instead of arriving dressed as accusation.
At Ashford, the underwriter call began badly when Julian used noise inside five minutes.
Rachel from the bank stopped him with professional politeness sharpened by long practice.
For our purposes, Mr Ashford, we need to separate noise from disclosable risk.
Julian smiled at the screen. Of course.
She continued. Related-party expense concerns, client pauses, and unclear historic funding sources may be disclosable.
May be, Julian said, trying to make the phrase sound optional.
May be, Rachel repeated, and her face showed the word travelling toward must while everyone on the call heard the shift.
Derek watched legal counsel take notes faster.
Then came the question Serena had prepared and Julian had dreaded.
Can you provide a full account of Whitmore capital involvement in Ashford Group’s formation and early operating history?
Julian looked down at the file before him.
It contained summaries, not originals; confidence, not proof; a story, not Richard Whitmore’s letters waiting in a locked archive.
We are compiling that, he said.
Rachel’s pause was polite enough to be fatal. Please prioritise it.
At Serena’s flat, Martin received the update from inside the underwriting team.
They asked the Whitmore formation question.
Serena did not look surprised. They had to, and that was precisely why the room existed.
Do you send the archive early?
No. If they receive it now, they bury it in process. Thursday first.
Martin considered her. That is harsher. That is clearer, Serena said.
At Whitmore House, Ivy ignored Julian’s instruction and ordered a car for Thursday.
Gerald logged destination: Ashford IPO media preview, then sent it to Martin.
Julian received the follow-up at five-twenty-two: full documentation required before investor roadshow progression, and every word looked like another delay becoming official.
Then Ivy’s latest post appeared: See you Thursday, beneath the white suit.
Julian could not decide which room was burning faster: bankers, or home.