My Clingy CEO Husband

###Chapter 110: The Botched Funding Round

Maxine Rhodes’s eyes swept over the screen. It was an unknown number from Jaxen.

Beneath the table, she swiftly flipped her phone screen-down, her expression unwavering as she continued her presentation.

A minute later, the phone silently lit up again on the table. The screen’s glow was faintly visible between her fingers, followed by a relentless barrage of text messages.

That in itself shouldn’t have been a problem—the phone was on silent.

The problem, however, was that the phone was connected via a USB cable to the laptop controlling the presentation.

And now, the sheer volume and frequency of the incoming texts briefly overloaded the phone’s processor, triggering a system compatibility error.

Through a bizarre twist of fate, this triggered a command in the phone’s USB debugging mode.

The next second.

SWOOSH—

The presenter view on the monitor beside the lectern suddenly vanished.

In its place, the phone’s text message inbox was mirrored onto the screen!

"Maxine Rhodes, you heartless bitch! How dare you not answer my calls?!"

"Has some wild man bewitched you so much that you’ve disowned your own family?!"

"Think you’ve landed a big fish, huh? Let me tell you, we know all your dirty secrets! Don’t think I won’t air all your dirty laundry!"

"You ungrateful monster! You animal! We raised you for nothing!"

...

The messages scrolled automatically, one after another.

Each message was laced with venom, the sender’s number changing every time.

The massive screen had become the platform for Maxine Rhodes’s public trial.

A dead silence fell over the conference room.

Everyone was stunned, staring in disbelief at the vile text on the screen.

The investors’ expressions shifted from focused to shocked, then to incredulous, and finally to undisguised disgust and contempt.

Maxine Rhodes was still frozen in her pose, gesturing toward the screen with her arm suspended in mid-air.

She stared into the empty darkness before her, a roaring in her ears that drowned out all other sounds.

All she could feel were the stares boring into her from all directions—the mocking gazes, the gazes that assessed her like damaged goods, the gazes of complete condemnation.

...

It was a public execution in every sense of the word.

Bubbles was the first to react, practically lunging for the laptop and frantically yanking out the power cord.

SWOOSH—

The screen went black.

But the suffocating atmosphere in the conference room was already beyond repair.

The lead investor, Mr. Quincy, slowly took off his glasses and began polishing them with a cloth. His movements were deliberate. He didn’t look at Maxine Rhodes, but instead at his legal director, with whom he exchanged a meaningful glance.

Then, Mr. Quincy put his glasses back on, leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands on the table.

"Ms. Rhodes, I’ve been an investor for twenty years. I’ve seen all kinds of founders..."

He paused, his gaze finally landing on Maxine Rhodes’s ashen face, his eyes holding not a trace of warmth.

"But never have I seen a founder, during a crucial funding meeting that decides the very life or death of their company, allow such a sordid personal issue to be displayed so dramatically, so publicly, in front of all the investors."

The legal director beside President Alden added coldly, "This demonstrates the founder’s extremely poor risk-management and emotional-regulation skills, not to mention the potential for more complex personal debts or legal disputes. These are all fatal risks to an investment."

"We cannot invest in a company whose own founder is mired in scandal and could be dragged down at any moment."

Mr. Quincy delivered the final verdict. "Regrettably, our potential partnership ends here. There is no need to schedule another meeting."

He stood up, straightened his suit, and turned to leave without a backward glance.

The other investors also rose, giving her no chance to explain. Not one of them spared her a second glance.

The door opened, then shut.

Maxine Rhodes’s straight back began to tremble, a physiological, uncontrollable shudder.

Two months of round-the-clock work, the team’s high hopes, the company’s entire future blueprint...

...all crushed to dust in those few seconds of public execution.

Bubbles and Coco came up behind her, their eyes red, but they didn’t know what to say.

Maxine Rhodes raised a hand to stop them.

She took a deep breath, as if it took all the strength she had.

Then she turned to face her team.

"Everyone has worked so hard lately. What happened today is my responsibility."

Her tone held no self-pity, only the coldness of stating a fact. "I’ll handle this. Everyone can go home early today. Also, everyone gets three days of paid vacation."

"Meeting adjourned."

Without looking at anyone’s reaction, she turned and walked toward her office.

Behind her, the team members exchanged glances, a mixture of suppressed anger and concern filling the silent air.

People filed out one by one.

Bubbles packed up his things. The last one to leave his desk, he glanced toward Maxine Rhodes’s office.

Having known Maxine Rhodes for so long, Bubbles knew her personality well. She was strong, calm, and rarely brought her personal emotions to work.

But this time felt different. Bubbles sent a message to Ethan Hawthorne, briefly explaining what had happened, then put away his phone and left quietly.

After everyone was gone, Maxine Rhodes returned to her office, walked to her desk, and turned on her computer.

The cold, white light of the monitor illuminated her bloodless face, making it look like a piece of paper stretched taut to its breaking point.

The moment she closed her eyes, the scrolling, venomous words from the screen rushed back to assault her.

Every word was a dagger twisting in the thousand wounds of her heart.

She forcefully suppressed every emotion. She couldn’t afford to break down now.

The funding round being publicly sabotaged wasn’t just a failure; it was a shattering of her credibility. News would spread like a virus, and the door to any future funding rounds would likely be slammed shut.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone and found the number for Mr. Quincy’s assistant.

She made the first call.

The call went through. The voice on the other end was polite but distant. "Ms. Rhodes."

"Assistant Langdon, I’m so sorry to bother you. Regarding the unexpected situation at today’s meeting, I was hoping to speak with Mr. Quincy..."

Her voice was steady, carrying just the right amount of sincerity and apology.

"Ms. Rhodes," he interrupted, his tone icily professional, "Mr. Quincy is in a meeting. As for what’s next, we’ve already reached an internal conclusion. It’s not convenient for us to communicate further at this time. We will contact you if there are any developments."

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The dial tone droned on.

Maxine Rhodes remained frozen for a few seconds, phone still in hand.

She made a second call, this time to a partner at one of the other investment firms.

This one was answered.

This person didn’t hang up immediately, but his tone was filled with a mixture of amusement and scrutiny. "Ah, Ms. Rhodes. Today’s... performance... was quite a surprise. Tell you what, we’ll look into it further. In the meantime, you should go handle your... domestic affairs."

He deliberately stressed the last two words, his voice dripping with undisguised contempt.

Maxine Rhodes’s fingernails dug into her palm, but she forced her voice to remain pleasant. "Thank you for your understanding. This was indeed my oversight. I will clarify the situation as soon as possible, and as for the complete materials from the technical demonstration, I’ll have them over shortly—"

"That’s enough, Ms. Rhodes," he cut in again, his impatience clear. "We can talk about the materials later. That’s all for now."

The line went dead again.

A third call, a fourth...

She called nearly every important investor who had been there, or their assistants.

The responses were all much the same: polite deflections, blunt rejections, and veiled mockery.

Her professionalism, her technology, her two months of pouring her heart and soul into this project—in the face of an unproven scandal, it was all worthless.

Just then, with a soft CLICK, the office door opened.