A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 138

As soon as I got home, I turned on the TV.

The Theranos lawsuit was a nationwide sensation, with every news channel scrambling to cover the latest updates.

"Did it work?"

[The Theranos side launched a fierce attack, branding Ha Si-heon as a ‘reckless and dangerous individual.' Their argument was that he was blinded by temporary fame and had chosen Theranos as his next target. On the other hand, Ha Si-heon’s side countered by asserting that ‘Theranos’s business practices were borderline fraudulent,' strongly arguing that defamation could not be established since such mismanagement actually existed.]

The anchor’s voice coolly summarized both sides’ claims.

So far, everything was going as expected.

But the real focus was on what came next.

[However, Ha Si-heon’s demeanor during the witness examination has raised questions. After asking just a single question, he fell silent, acknowledging all of Theranos’s claims of intentionality and even admitting to the alleged damages.]

A smile crept onto my lips.

A lawsuit always begins with the plaintiff’s argument.

Today was no exception.

The Theranos side unleashed a barrage of meticulously prepared witnesses and evidence.

They had only one goal.

To prove how dangerous Ha Si-heon was, how malicious my actions had been, and how immense the damage to Theranos was as a result.

But that truth was only known to those inside the courtroom.

The general public could only view the case through the lens of the media.

And right now, the media was focusing solely on my actions, just as intended.

[After the first question, Ha Si-heon remained silent upon encountering the NDA barrier. From then on, he stopped asking questions, as if further inquiry was meaningless.]

[And we’re talking about the ‘Orca’ here. He doesn’t seem like the type to give up over a simple obstacle…]

[Yet his pattern remained consistent—question, silence before the NDA, then admission. What could this repeated behavior possibly mean?]

The corners of my mouth curled up.

"It’s going well."

In reality, this lawsuit was overwhelmingly unfavorable to me.

To win in court, I had to prove my claims with ‘evidence’ and ‘witnesses.’

But evidence?

Unusable.

For example, just looking at Theranos’s fabricated revenue projections, which they created without a CFO, was enough.

Yet those crucial documents couldn’t even be submitted—because they were classified as ‘confidential information.’

Witnesses?

As Blackwell had warned, they were bound by NDAs, unable to say a word.

That left only one path forward.

"Attack the NDA itself."

Just in time, there was a surge of interest in ‘Orca,’ and right before the lawsuit, The Wall Street Times published an article about Theranos’s suspicious NDA, which was allegedly tormenting its employees.

But then, even in court, even the Orca fell silent before that NDA?

People’s minds would start buzzing with questions.

[What exactly is an NDA?]

[It’s a confidentiality agreement set by companies.]

[What kind of information is typically included?]

[That varies greatly by company.]

[Just how restrictive is Theranos’s NDA, if even Ha Si-heon is silenced by it?]

It was just a small spark for now, but all I had to do was fan the flames.

The next day, in court.

The Theranos side put an HR executive on the stand.

He rambled on about the ‘disruption’ I had caused, but I stuck to my approach.

"We acknowledge that Ha Si-heon’s statements have caused harm to Theranos."

Quickly admit.

After cutting their argument short with that single statement, I threw in an unexpected question.

"What software does the HR department use?"

This was something they had lied about during the audit.

They knew exactly what kind of trouble they’d be in if they answered honestly.

"Objection! Irrelevant to the case."

The Theranos attorney sharply intervened, but it was useless.

"This question pertains to the ‘harm’ Ha Si-heon allegedly caused during the audit."

"Overruled."

At the judge’s firm decision, the HR executive reluctantly opened his mouth.

"I can’t disclose that information. It’s confidential under the NDA."

"Hmm, even the name of the software? Was it developed in-house?"

"No. But we still can’t disclose the name."

"Then, how many executive positions are currently vacant?"

"…That, too, would violate the NDA."

"No further questions."

My attorney spoke calmly and sat down.

Watching the exchange, I let out a bitter smile and shook my head.

As if to say, Look at this massive wall of NDAs. There's nothing we can do.

I continued to maintain an air of defeat.

Of course, it was all an act.

I wonder how this looks to outsiders?

[Once again today, Ha Si-heon seemed frustrated before the NDA’s impenetrable wall.]

[But wait… isn’t something off? How can the number of vacant executive positions be an NDA-protected secret? Typically, companies list their executives on their websites. Blocking this information under an NDA?]

Well, that’s because Theranos had left key positions like CMO and CRO vacant.

They couldn’t exactly reveal that a medical device company had no experts in medical devices or healthcare regulations.

[And claiming that even their HR software is confidential? Does that make any sense?]

[If it were cutting-edge technology, maybe. But an HR system? It’s probably just some standard commercial software…]

There was a reason they were hiding it.

If they revealed the software name, I could use that to expose how they had lied during the audit.

And that would confirm their fraudulent mismanagement.

But only we knew that.

To the world, Theranos would just appear as a shady company that classified even the most trivial things under NDAs.

Social media was already on fire.

–That’s supposed to be confidential? Unbelievable.

–‘Sealed off’ is the perfect description. What’s next? The brand of toilet paper they use?

–Something feels off…

–What kind of HR software are they using? Some kind of employee surveillance program?

–Is their NDA some kind of black hole? Sucking up all information. #InformationBlackhole

Suspicion toward Theranos’s NDA was spreading like wildfire.

But it still wasn’t enough.

I needed to amplify it further.

The next day.

The Theranos side brought in an IR executive to prove the damage to their investors.

And once again, I followed the same pattern.

"We acknowledge that Ha Si-heon’s statements have caused harm to Theranos."

Quickly admit.

Then, the next question.

"How long has the CFO position been vacant?"

"…That information is protected under the NDA."

Blocked again.

"No further questions."

Despair.

This pattern will continue.

I will deliberately choose only the questions that will hit the NDA barrier.

After all, gag orders are only effective when they are imposed in secret.

But what happens when one is publicly silenced in the middle of a nationwide controversy?

Especially in a country like the United States, where freedom of speech is considered sacred?

[CFOs serve as communication channels for external investors, yet even that information is under an NDA? That’s… frankly incomprehensible.]

[Is there any other NDA that enforces such an extreme level of corporate opacity?]

[Isn’t this a constitutional violation? The misuse of NDAs needs urgent review.]

Calls for legal scrutiny and investigations erupted from all directions. Naturally, the public reaction grew even more intense.

-This level of secrecy is on par with North Korea. No wonder the Orca is hunting them.

-What are they hiding in their basement? Child slaves?

-Is Theranos some kind of secret society? This level of security isn’t normal for a regular company.

-Shouldn’t there be a congressional hearing about this?

-NDAs to silence employees, NDAs to blind investors… This is the perfect scam.

-What is the SEC doing? Shouldn’t they be investigating this company immediately?

Theranos was beginning to be compared to a dictatorship or a slave factory.

And soon, this shift in public sentiment seeped into the courtroom.

Once again, I followed the same pattern—quick admission.

"I cannot disclose that information due to the NDA."

The moment those words left the witness’s mouth, the courtroom erupted into chaos.

"Boooo!"

"What are you hiding?!"

Jeers poured from the gallery.

Now, people were showing up just to protest against Theranos’s NDA in court.

"Silence! If this disruption continues, I will have you removed," the judge sternly warned.

But it was already too late.

The audience’s gazes had sharpened, their dissatisfaction hanging thick in the air.

Even the jurors’ expressions began to shift—doubt creeping into their eyes.

Seeing this, the Theranos legal team’s faces hardened.

Both Blackwell and Holmes looked pale.

Of course, they did.

The NDA, which they had relied on as a shield, was now tightening around their necks like a noose.

But this was just the beginning.

I was aiming for a much bigger fire.

***

"We need to stop here."

At Blackwell’s words, Holmes frowned.

"Didn’t you say we still have the upper hand?"

"That’s true. However…"

"Then what’s the problem?"

Blackwell let out a deep sigh.

There was anxiety in his eyes.

"If we continue down this path, we’ll only invite greater disaster. This is getting too dangerous. The public sentiment is…"

Objectively, Ha Si-heon still hadn’t presented decisive evidence.

The lawsuit was still tilted in Theranos’s favor.

But…

"If this continues, we might face mounting pressure for an investigation into Theranos’s excessive NDA practices. Even if we win the lawsuit, if a government agency starts investigating us… Would that really be a victory?"

"……"

Holmes’s face hardened.

Blackwell took a deep breath and pressed on.

"This is the tipping point. If we cross it, this issue will escalate into a national controversy. Drop the lawsuit and protect the company."

Silence weighed heavily between them.

After a long pause, Holmes finally spoke.

"There are only a few witnesses left…"

"No. The risk is too great."

She still seemed reluctant, but Blackwell was firm.

"If we call another witness, Ha Si-heon will repeat the same pattern—ask a question, confirm the NDA, and go silent."

The more witnesses they brought, the stronger their case inside the courtroom.

But outside the courtroom, the public backlash would only worsen.

It was maddening.

‘That bastard!’

Blackwell cursed internally.

He had seen through Ha Si-heon’s strategy from the beginning—using silence as a performance.

But he had dismissed it, believing that the case would ultimately be decided by the jury.

Yet Ha Si-heon had confessed to everything before the jury, skipped rebuttals, and focused entirely on what seemed like a pointless spectacle.

From the very beginning, his real battlefield wasn’t inside the courtroom—it was in the court of public opinion.

"I thought it was a meaningless stunt…!"

Only now did Blackwell truly feel the danger of this strategy in his bones.

"We need to negotiate with him. I’ll handle it personally."

Holmes seemed unwilling, but eventually, she gave a heavy nod.

Ultimately, their priority was preventing an investor exodus from Theranos.

Thus, after the court session ended—

Blackwell called Ha Si-heon to his firm’s office.

And presented an offer.

"Let’s withdraw the lawsuit on both sides and announce that we have reached an amicable resolution. In return, we will drop all claims for damages."

A smile spread across Ha Si-heon’s lips.

The despair he had shown in court was nowhere to be seen.

Blackwell had suspected it was all an act, but seeing it firsthand made it even more infuriating.

Still, he masked his emotions and continued.

"It’s not an unfavorable deal for you, is it? If this continues, we will win the case, and you will be forced to pay $4.9 billion in damages."

"Ah, so you’ve come to offer me mercy?"

The laughter in Ha Si-heon’s voice made Blackwell’s stomach twist.

But he suppressed his irritation and played his final card.

"What do you want?"

He was even willing to make concessions if it meant ending the lawsuit.

But Ha Si-heon’s answer remained the same.

"The lawsuit."

"……"

"Let’s keep going."

A mischievous glint shone in Ha Si-heon’s eyes, as if he were saying, Isn’t this fun?

Blackwell felt a wave of unease.

"You need to think carefully. Even if Theranos is in trouble, you’ll end up with a $4.9 billion debt. Can you handle that?"

"Ah, it’s fine. I’m prepared for that level of risk."

"……"

"Since we’ve come this far, we might as well see it through."

"You know that you can’t win this case, right?"

Blackwell emphasized again.

But Ha Si-heon just smiled.

"If you say that too often, people might get the wrong idea."

"……"

"Emphasizing how ‘I’ll owe $4.9 billion if I lose, so I should negotiate’… Depending on how you look at it, that could sound like an attempt to silence me."

Blackwell was speechless.

‘This bastard…’

Continue the lawsuit? It’s an attempt to silence him.

Drop the lawsuit? It’s still an attempt to silence him.

Have witnesses testify? That, too, is suppression.

Do nothing? That’s also suppression.

Theranos was now caught in a trap.

No matter what move they made, they couldn’t escape the ‘gag order’ narrative.

When had this all begun…?

"Well then, let’s look forward to it."

With a victorious smirk, Ha Si-heon stepped outside.

On his way back to Goldman, sitting in the taxi—

His attorney, who had remained silent until now, cautiously spoke.

"Blackwell was telling the truth."

His voice carried a hint of worry.

"Even if public opinion is on our side, it doesn’t guarantee a legal victory. If this continues, you might end up paying massive damages."

Winning the public wasn’t the same as winning in court.

But Ha Si-heon’s eyes didn’t waver.

"It’s fine. After all, the entire case will be decided by a single witness."

From the start, the key to victory was one thing.

Securing just one critical witness.

Kissinger.

The moment he took the stand, everything would flip.

But…

"Will he testify?"

The lawyer’s voice carried doubt.

Ha Si-heon simply smiled.

There was no reason for Kissinger to step forward.

His reputation was everything to him.

Standing in court and admitting, “I was foolishly deceived,” would be unthinkable.

For now, at least.

But public opinion held undeniable power over those who valued their reputation.

Ha Si-heon smirked confidently.

"We just need to push a little harder and see."