The looming 2008 financial crisis weighed on Claire like a boulder. Even as Du Juan, who'd started to develop a soft spot for him, dozed off on his shoulder, Claire barely noticed. When they neared his place, he opted not to bring her home to avoid any rumors. Instead, he insisted on dropping her off at a three-star hotel near Old Trafford.
At the hotel entrance, Du Juan watched Claire climb back into the car, muttering under her breath, "Such a clueless guy!"
The doorman, spotting Claire's club family card in her hand, swiftly took her bags and led her inside. Once in the hotel, Du Juan's phone rang. "I met someone super interesting today. If I get the chance, I'll introduce you when I'm back in China," she said. Whoever was on the other end was clearly close to her, but Du Juan didn't breathe a word about landing the lead role in Global Hot Love at the banquet, as if it never happened.
Back home late at night, Claire didn't bother changing. He shrugged off his jacket and headed to his bedroom, only to freeze when a man's voice startled him. "One piece of good news, one piece of bad news. Which do you want first?"
The voice sent Claire scrambling to the door. Flipping on the living room light, he found Steve Chen lounging on the couch, grinning mischievously.
"Damn it, Steve! If you scared me to death, your first investment would've crashed and burned!" Claire exclaimed.
"No way that'd happen," Steve replied, legs crossed casually, not a hint of his billion-dollar net worth in his demeanor as he smirked at Claire.
"Let me guess: we got the A-round funding, but one of the investors backed out, right?" Claire ventured.
"Talking to smart people is no fun," Steve grumbled, tossing a file folder onto the table with a thud before closing his eyes, ignoring Claire.
Claire eagerly opened the folder. When he saw that Claire Tickets had reached a valuation of $700 million in just two months, a rush of adrenaline hit him like a steam bath. The company's IPO was one step closer—not just because of the approaching financial crisis, but because Claire had big plans. His income was decent, but his ambitions were massive. His uncle needed funds to buy players to boost profitability for Claire Tickets' GMV. Then there was Coupons.com, which he'd acquired on the cheap, only to discover it came with nearly $1 million in debt.
Money was needed everywhere, and Claire was treading carefully to secure his first big win, terrified of a misstep that could ruin everything. With the A-round funding secured, he just had to wait three months for the Q1 2007 revenue figures. Then, he'd have the confidence to take Claire Tickets public via a SPAC.
SPACs weren't new—they'd been around since the '90s but gained traction in the U.S. after 2003. The concept was simple: a "shell company" raised funds from mutual or hedge funds, holding only cash and no operations. It was perfect for tech companies like his. The beauty of a SPAC was that it could go public in as little as three months, bypassing the SEC's strict IPO rules. The target company's valuation was based on its last three months of profits, requiring just one roadshow to list on NASDAQ. For Claire, it was tailor-made. He was confident that his UK-based ticketing platform would attract local sports clubs and investment funds once it hit the market.
---
The night passed quickly. The next morning, Claire, eyes red and hair a mess, shuffled into Old Trafford. Spotting his teammates, he scratched the back of his head awkwardly and joined the end of the line under the watchful eyes of Manchester United's coaching staff.
C. Ronaldo leaned over and whispered, "Hey, your little trip to Tom Hardy's party got leaked. If the media hadn't caught you dropping your date off at the hotel, I bet Sir Ferguson would bench you for tomorrow's match."
Claire mumbled something under his breath, too quiet for Ronaldo to hear. Despite a grueling week of "Christmas" matches, the team showed no signs of fatigue—only excitement. The reason was simple: Manchester United was on a winning streak, leaving rivals Chelsea in the dust.
Claire glanced at Sir Ferguson, glowing with pride, then at Ronaldo with a twinge of envy. Six months ago, Ronaldo was public enemy number one in Britain, booed at every away game. Now, he was Manchester United's golden boy and the darling of the British media. Sure, his management team played a role, but Ronaldo's stats spoke for themselves: 20 goals (Premier League top scorer), 14 assists (first), 145 shots (first). He'd racked up too many "firsts" this season.
Sir Ferguson's speech revolved entirely around Ronaldo, praising him before turning to the less stellar performers. His stern gaze swept the team, locking eyes with Claire, who quickly looked down.
"Oh, the Manchester Evening News' attacking hero! Our very own glass man!" Ferguson said. "Sure, you've got excuses for every injury and suspension, but I've got to call you out. Your teammates are just too damn good!"
It was no secret that since Claire's song The Nights blew up, his popularity within the team had skyrocketed, even rivaling Ronaldo's at times. But on the pitch? He was a nobody. With only four goals and six assists, the Manchester Evening News hyped him as the "most efficient attacker," but with fewer than a handful of appearances, the coaching staff constantly fielded criticism: "He's never there when we need him, but when we don't, his smug face is all over the TV."
The words carried a mix of affection and frustration, highlighting Claire's less-than-robust physical condition.
"Alright, my speech for last season's done," Ferguson concluded. "Tomorrow's our final match. Let's not just beat Newcastle—let's show Chelsea how good our backsides smell!"
"YES!" the team roared, charging onto the field to warm up.