He typed: Everything.
The room gasped. Marcus felt his stomach drop. The European desk was led by a man named Henrik Voss, a brilliant but arrogant German who had been the firm’s golden boy. Henrik was standing near the front, his face ashen. wall street paytime
He tucked the letter back into his pocket, leaned his head against the cold glass, and began to plan his next move. He typed: Everything
Marcus stood, shook Julian’s hand, and walked back to his desk. His assistant, a sharp-eyed woman named Priya who had been at Sterling for fifteen years, handed him a cup of black coffee. “You okay?” she asked quietly. The European desk was led by a man
He typed back: On my way. Love you.
“I know what day it is,” Victoria said. “And I know many of you are already planning how to spend your bonuses. But I need to tell you something before you leave this room.”
Marcus nodded. He knew the revenue number. What he didn’t know was the multiplier—the percentage of revenue that would become his bonus. Last year it had been 12%. A good year. This year, rumors were flying that the pool was up 30%.