American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

Corleone Estate.

Outside the window, along the Potomac River, the cherry blossoms that once bloomed like pink clouds have all fallen, leaving only the new green leaves swaying in the spring breeze. Just like the regulatory storm that lasted for half a year, although the process was thrilling, it was eventually washed away by the flow of time.

In the study on the second floor of the manor, Victor sat behind his desk. The blinds cut the afternoon sunlight into parallel beams, casting shadows on his dark blue suit.

The study was quiet, with only the dull tinkling of an old-fashioned grandfather clock.

His fingers gently stroked the black cat lying on the desk. This purebred Sicilian black cat, named "Mussolini," was purring contentedly, its golden eyes half-closed, enjoying its owner's affection.

And under its claws lay a newly delivered copy of The Wall Street Journal.

The front page headline featured a photograph: Victor Corleone smiling and shaking hands with the Deputy Minister of Justice. It was a landmark moment; two men who were once bitter enemies were now as close as old friends. Victor's smile was humble and polite, as if he were the one who had been wronged.

The headline, in bold black, read: "$6 Million! Pharmaceutical Giant Reaches Historic Settlement with Department of Justice."

The subtitle is that priceless legal term: No Admission of Wrongdoing.

This line of text acted like a pure gold get-out-of-jail-free card, not only deflecting the tens of thousands of potential civil lawsuits that might follow, but more importantly, preserving Water Pharmaceuticals' most core asset—its reputation. To the average person, this might have been a hefty fine; but on Wall Street, it was a huge boon after all the bad news had been priced in.

The day after the settlement agreement was signed, Vought Pharmaceuticals' stock price surged by 15%, adding $2 billion to its market capitalization overnight.

"A problem that can be solved with money isn't a problem," Victor muttered to himself, his voice completely calm. He picked up the newspaper and casually tossed it into the nearby wastebasket.

His fingers slid from the cat's back to the thick stack of documents.

That was the final plan regarding the restructuring of the company's equity structure.

...

A steady, forceful knock broke the silence of the study.

"Go in." Victor didn't look up, still staring at the data on the document.

The door was pushed open, and Enzo walked in.

He wore a black suit, and his hands, once accustomed to holding shotguns and steering wheels, now steadily held a document. After six months of experience, his once somewhat rough Sicilian cousin had acquired an aura of awe-inspiring coldness. His eyes no longer possessed the wild, aggressive intensity of before, but had become restrained and profound, like a dagger hidden in its sheath.

He is Victor's shadow, the executor of the Corleone family's will.

"Godfather." Enzo closed the door, walked to the desk, and gently placed the file in front of Victor. "The last two nails have been pulled out too."

Victor put down his pen and opened the documents. There were two equity transfer agreements, the signatures on them crooked and the ink even smudged, as if they had been signed in extreme fear or anger.

"They initially refused to sell. Henry said he was a founding member of the company, someone even your father would have respected. He yelled on the phone that it was robbery and that he would report us to the SEC for shady dealings with R&D expenses."

Victor raised an eyebrow: "And then? How did you convince this 'highly respected' elder?"

“I also think he is a respectable elder,” Enzo said expressionlessly. “So I specifically looked into his family trust fund to see if I could help him optimize his taxes. The result was quite interesting. I found that he had two undeclared accounts in the Cayman Islands with very complicated fund flows, most of which came from several packaging material suppliers with whom we do business.”

"That's evidence of the kickbacks he's taken over the years," Victor added casually.

“Yes. What’s even more interesting is that his youngest son has been having some bad luck in Las Vegas lately,” Enzo continued. “He’s racked up a considerable gambling debt at Caesars Palace, probably over a million dollars. The creditor happens to be a friend of ours from back in Chicago, a guy called ‘Iron Hand.’ He’s planning to sell the debt to a local loan shark.”

Victor nodded. This is the power of information asymmetry. In this world, everyone has secrets, and those who possess secrets possess power.

“I simply placed the bank statement from that Cayman Islands account, along with a copy of his son’s IOU, on his breakfast table.” Enzo shrugged. “Ten minutes later, his lawyer called to say that Mr. Henry had suddenly felt unwell, wanted to retire early, and agreed to transfer all his shares at 70% of the market price.”

"A very reasonable decision." Victor closed the first document. "So, what about that independent director named George? I remember him as a tough nut to crack, always talking about corporate ethics and social responsibility, and even trying to start a vote of no confidence against me at the board meeting."

“Mr. George is indeed a man of principle.” Enzo’s eyes flashed with a hint of disdain. “But he has a weakness: he loves his reputation too much. He teaches ethics at a university and is also an honorary trustee of a church school. He presents himself as a morally perfect man.”

"so?"

"So, we just sent his wife some photos. Photos he took in some less-than-ethical places during his 'scouting trip' in Thailand." Enzo pulled an envelope from his pocket and placed it on the table. "The negatives are all here. His wife is a very devout believer, and I imagine her expression when she sees these photos is quite something."

Victor didn't look at the envelope; he simply waved his hand, signaling Enzo to put it away.

"Well done, Enzo."

This is the art of squeeze-out mergers and acquisitions.

In business textbooks, this is called a "reverse stock split" or "privatization and delisting." But in reality, it's a bloodless massacre. Major shareholders, leveraging their absolute control and informational advantage, use legal financial means and off-market pressure to forcibly liquidate the shares held by dissenting minority shareholders, ousting them from the market.

It's like uprooting a parasitic vine from a big tree. Although some soil and sap may come out, only in this way can the tree truly belong to its owner.

"Now, there's only one voice left on the board." Victor looked up, his gaze sharp. "Our voice. From this day forward, Water Pharmaceuticals is no longer a company that needs to explain itself to anyone. It is the private property of the Corleone family."

Enzo bowed slightly. "Yes, Godfather. The entire Walter Pharmaceuticals is as quiet as that monastery in Sicily right now."

Just then, the sound of hurried high heels came from outside the door.

Enzo glanced at Victor, and seeing that he made no comment, he silently retreated into the shadows.