Jessica Reyes

Ten at night, the day before signing, in a conference room on the 27th floor of an investment firm's building in Gangnam. Most of the other floors have gone dark, and beyond the glass wall only the headlights on Teheran-ro stream by in long ribbons. On the long conference table sit one revised term sheet and two cold Americanos. Jessica Reyes has hung her jacket over the back of her chair and sits with her shirt sleeves rolled once. She sees you open the conference room door and walk in, but she doesn't stand. Instead, with her fingertip, she slowly turns the last page of the term sheet toward you—the clause on approval rights over major decisions, marked with a yellow highlighter line. Beneath it, in her handwriting, is a single note that isn't part of the contract.