Zhang held Lex's gaze for a moment longer before reaching for the contract folder. Without hesitation, he flipped to the final page, picked up a gold Montblanc pen, and signed with sharp, deliberate strokes.
He closed the folder, sliding it back across the table. "My lawyer, Pierre, cleared it before we arrived," he said simply.
Lex took the folder without breaking eye contact. "Efficient."
Zhang exhaled lightly. "I don't waste time."
Lex smirked. "Neither do I."
Zhang exhaled lightly, unimpressed. "Then tell me—what happens next?"
Lex leaned back, completely at ease. "I'm going to steal Barnie's list of properties."
There was a small shift in the room. Not alarm—just interest.
Zhang's fingers tapped against the table once. "Steal?"
Lex shrugged. "Acquire them before he realizes they're worth."
Zhang tilted his head. "And you think that makes you clever?"
Lex exhaled. "I think it makes me fast."
Zhang studied him. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, his hands folding neatly on the table. "You're ambitious, but this? This sounds like stupid money."
Lex didn't blink. "I play smart."
"Then convince me," Zhang said smoothly. "Because right now, I see a kid trying to undercut his uncle, not a man playing for power."
Lex reached into his portfolio folder, pulling out a documented list of high-value distressed properties. The same ones Barnie was still too blind to offload. He slid it across the table.
"Barnie has been hoarding office towers, historical properties, corporate campuses that were supposed to be future investments. Now? They're liabilities. He's waiting for the market to recover."
Lex smirked. "It won't."
Zhang flicked through the details. The room went quiet.
"You plan to move on them?"
"Next month," Lex confirmed. "We take the best ones first. Not just random spaces—landmarks. WeWork isn't about leasing cubicles. It's about owning the addresses that matter."
Zhang's fingers drummed lightly on the page. Once. Twice. Lex could tell he was already running the numbers in his head.
"You're talking about prestige," Zhang said. "But prestige is expensive."
Lex smirked. "Not when you buy it at a 70% discount."
Zhang exhaled through his nose. "You expect to break even in two years?"
Lex nodded. "Less, if the crash hits on time."
Zhang exhaled. "You're betting on a precise market collapse."
Lex's voice was smooth. "I'm not betting. I'm positioning."
Zhang leaned back slightly. Then, without warning, he spoke in flawless Mandarin.
"Your confidence is impressive. But confidence means nothing without execution."
Lex didn't blink. He responded in perfect Mandarin—
"A fool waits for the storm to pass. A strategist builds a dam before it floods."
Silence.
One of Zhang's advisors stiffened slightly. Daniel's expression flickered—not surprise, but reevaluation.
Zhang, however, remained completely unreadable.
Lex knew exactly what had just happened.
Zhang hadn't expected him to speak Mandarin—not fluently, not perfectly. This wasn't just a language test. It was a test.
Zhang exhaled lightly, nodding once. "Your accent is too precise to be from business school lessons."
Lex only smiled. He didn't explain.
He wasn't about to say that his grandmother had been one of the most respected Chinese scholars of her era. That he had grown up listening to power, philosophy, and strategy in two languages. That he had learned early—some power is best left unspoken.
Instead, he simply waited.
Zhang tapped the file lightly. "Alright, Latham. Let's talk about your real flaws. Your model has weaknesses. The same ones that have killed every coworking company before you."
Lex smirked. "I'm listening."
"Overleveraging," Zhang said, voice clipped. "You acquire too aggressively, and your cash flow strangles you. You'll be sitting on high-value assets, but if lease renewals drop or tenants underperform, you'll be carrying properties that bleed money instead of printing it."
Lex nodded slightly. Expected.
"Cash burn," Zhang continued, flipping to another page. "Coworking spaces aren't just expensive—they're a luxury model disguised as efficiency. You scale too fast, and your burn rate will outpace your profit curve."
Lex exhaled slowly.
"And tenant retention." Zhang's gaze was sharp. "Startups churn fast. You rely too much on small businesses, and you'll have constant occupancy gaps. No long-term security."
He set the document down. "That is why every company like this has failed."
Lex smirked. "You think I don't already know that?"
Zhang raised an eyebrow. "Then tell me your Plan B."
Lex leaned forward slightly. "Corporate leases. Enterprise partnerships. WeWork isn't just for startups. We target established companies downsizing from traditional offices. Companies shifting to hybrid work. Long-term tenants with stable cash flow."
Zhang nodded once. "And Plan C?"
Lex exhaled. "Property ownership. The endgame isn't renting. It's controlling the real estate itself. Instead of relying on leases, we acquire key properties outright. Over time, the buildings become more valuable than the company itself."
Zhang was silent.
Then, after a long moment, he exhaled.
"You've thought this through."
Lex smirked. "I don't play games I haven't already won."
Zhang tapped his fingers against the table. "I've spoken with Barnie at parties before." He exhaled through his nose. "He's too Western."
Lex raised an eyebrow slightly. "Meaning?"
"He believes in control, not balance." Zhang's voice was smooth. "Too much greed. Not enough patience. He overreaches—and doesn't see the cracks forming beneath his own feet."
Lex chuckled. "Sounds about right."
Zhang's gaze narrowed slightly. "Why pick his list? There are other distressed assets in the market."
Lex exhaled slowly. "Because I had the opportunity to read every file."
Zhang's brow lifted slightly, but he didn't press.
Instead, he asked, "What's your plan for the next three months?"
Lex's smirk returned. "We close the real estate deals. We secure the tenant agreements. We finalize the branding and roll out a high-profile launch. And then?"
He leaned back.
"We watch the market burn."
It was a play forpower.Lex was four moves ahead.