At a business hotel in New York, the NBA labor and management were deep into yet another tense round of negotiations.
To push things forward, Commissioner David Stern had demanded full attendance from the team owners—every last one of the league's twenty-nine franchises was represented at the table.
On the players' side, the union was led by Chairman Patrick Ewing and Executive Director Billy Hunter. Alongside them sat two towering figures: Shaquille O'Neal and Hakeem "The Dream" Olajuwon, serving as key negotiation representatives.
Stern had made it crystal clear last time—if they couldn't strike a deal now, the entire season was done. Canceled. With that hanging over their heads, O'Neal and Dream had suggested a secret ballot before the talks even began.
Some players, frustrated and desperate, said they didn't care about the vote—they just wanted to hoop again.
Others, more defiant, were ready to fight this thing to the bitter end.
The internal pressure from management, plus behind-the-scenes manipulation by agents like David Falk and others with hidden agendas, had fractured the union. The players were divided.
In a quiet corner, Knicks owner James Dolan leaned toward Lakers owner Jerry Buss.
"Zhao Dong's chillin' in Giants Stadium right now," Dolan said, voice low. "I'm worried he's losing patience with the NBA."
Buss shrugged, sipping his coffee. "You think he'd go pro in boxing?"
"Maybe. Or maybe the NFL. Don't forget, he played football at Stony Brook. Why else would the guy buy Jets?"
Buss raised an eyebrow but didn't answer.
Across the table, another owner muttered, "Nike and Adidas stocks dropped another 50% today. Nike's sitting at $42 now—same as last month's low."
"It's just starting," someone else replied. "Wall Street smells blood. Nike and Adidas are prime targets."
"They shouldn't have messed with Zhao Dong and Miss Lindsay."
Before more whispers could spread, Stern banged the table. "Alright, enough chatter. Time to vote again on the salary cap."
This was the core issue.
The players wanted a bigger salary cap. The owners? Nah. They were only willing to bump up the base salary—something the stars like Ewing weren't gonna co-sign. A higher base salary meant smaller individual contracts for top-tier players. That wasn't gonna fly.
But with the lockout dragging on, both sides were bleeding money. They were getting desperate. Even Zhao Dong, who technically had "retired," was itching to end the standoff—especially since his name kept popping up in talks of a boxing or football debut.
Finally, on the morning of the 11th, the NBA held a press conference.
"We've reached a deal," Stern announced. "The salary cap will be raised from $26.9 million to $30 million for the 1997–98 season, accounting for 48% of basketball-related income."
The players erupted in celebration. A new season was coming.
"Breakthrough at last—NBA season about to resume!" — New York Times
"David Stern's Countdown Begins!" — New York Sports
Zhao Dong was interviewed by the New York Times shortly after the press conference.
"This is the best news I've heard in a while," he said. "Let's get back on the court."
"Zhao Dong, does that mean you'll return once the season starts?" the reporter asked eagerly.
He grinned. "We'll talk about it when the time comes."
Dodging the question, smooth as ever.
"But as a player, why weren't you involved in the negotiations?" the reporter followed up.
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Didn't I retire? What does it have to do with me anymore?"
The reporter was left speechless.
Meanwhile, Jordan gave his two cents to the media too. "Let's get it started already. If y'all stall any longer, I swear I'm retiring for real this time."
Negotiations didn't stop there. For the next few days, labor and management hammered away at the remaining issues, working overtime to tie up the loose ends.
Then came the 12th—and another bombshell.
Nike's stock crashed to 18 dollars a share.
Thirteen days ago, it had skyrocketed from $40 to $135. Now? It was crawling. The life had been drained out of it.
Adidas didn't fare much better. Lindsay had zeroed in on Nike for her hostile takeover, but the market turbulence spilled into rival companies. With Wall Street piling in, everything was volatile.
That afternoon, four high-profile guests arrived at Storm Fund headquarters.
Lindsay had arranged the meeting. These weren't just any guests—they were four of the biggest fund managers on Wall Street. Each of them had backed her bold play against Nike, buying up massive amounts of stock.
She brought them in because it was time to seal the deal. Lindsay wanted full control of Nike.
The investigation into the supermarket shooting was still ongoing, but there'd been no progress with the money trail. With no solid evidence, the authorities couldn't label it a murder attempt. But Lindsay wasn't buying it. She was sure the whole thing had been a hit job—aimed at her and Zhao Dong.
And in her eyes, the likeliest puppet master behind it all was Nike.
She nodded politely at one of the visitors. "Mr. Morris, please have a seat."
Morris wasn't just any player. He ran six major investment funds and commanded nearly $10 billion in assets. Of the four, he was the most seasoned, the most powerful—and currently held around 5% of Nike's total shares.
That made him her primary target.
There weren't enough loose shares left on the market. Most were in the hands of Nike or heavyweights like Morris. Without those, her acquisition would stall.
"Nike's best offer hit $135," Morris said, glancing at the other three men. "The pre-acquisition price was $40. We're willing to settle and sell to you for $100 a share."
Lindsay scoffed. "One hundred?"
She leaned back, calm but cutting.
"Let me remind you—Storm Fund had the highest return rate in the world last year. Doesn't matter if we're talking venture capital or stable investments.
If I wanted, I could raise tens of billions—maybe more—within days. Europe's top funds are lining up to work with me. So are American ones. And let's not even talk about the hundreds of small brokers on Wall Street begging to join.
Some of them are your clients, aren't they?"
She smiled coldly.
"Maybe it's time I started accepting a few of them… with purpose."
Morris's smile faltered. For the first time, a hint of unease crept into his eyes.
They were sitting on a mountain of Nike shares. But holding them came with a cost. If Lindsay kept suppressing the stock price and opened the floodgates to more funding, their clients would jump ship. Their capital chains would stretch—maybe even break.
If that happened, they'd be forced to dump their Nike shares at a loss.
Perhaps they could've joined forces to hold off Lindsay. But let's be real—without decent returns, their clients would bounce straight to Storm Fund, and the end result would still be the same.
They knew damn well that investors like Lindsay weren't to be messed with. If you push someone like her into a corner, she might just lay a trap and bury you with it. That last sentence she dropped? No doubt, it was a straight-up threat.
Getting into a fight with Lindsay now meant risking it all—and they might end up losing everything with blood on their faces.
The four of them went back and forth in discussion for a while. Finally, Morris exhaled slowly and said, "Ms. Lindsay, the four of us together hold 15% of Nike's shares. We'll hand it all over to you. Transaction price: $65. That's our final offer."
Lindsay didn't reply right away. She leaned back slightly, tapping her fingers on the table, considering it carefully.
Sure, $65 was way above Nike's current share price of $20. That's more than triple. But compared to the pre-acquisition price of $40, it was only a 50% premium. On the surface, it looked generous, but it wasn't outrageous.
Besides, the current low stock price was the result of their joint suppression tactics. No one could actually buy shares at that price anymore.
She calculated silently. The four of them probably got in around $50 per share. If she bought at $60, they'd be walking away with a nice 20% gain.
Storm Fund already held 25% of Nike. Thanks to their early positioning and continuous cost-averaging, their average cost sat around $35. If they scooped up another 15% at $60, the average cost across 40% of Nike would be about $42.
Considering $40 was the base before the takeover, maintaining the overall cost at $42 meant Storm Fund had practically completed the acquisition for free. A brilliant move.
"So…"
Lindsay smiled, her fingertips drumming once more on the table before she looked up. "Deal."
"Excellent!"
Morris and the others lit up like Christmas. That's nearly 55 million Nike shares off their hands. They just pocketed close to $600 million in profits.
Less than half a month's work. Not a bad payday for riding Lindsay's wave.
"Ms. Lindsay," Morris added casually, probing a bit, "now that Nike's been taken care of… what about Adidas?"
"Adi?" Lindsay's face didn't change. "Let's leave that for another time."
The truth? She chose Nike because they were the ones most likely involved in trying to take out Zhao Dong. Adidas, on the other hand, was a German company. And 90% of her capital came from European funds. Touching Adidas meant possibly offending her own investors.
She couldn't say that out loud though. If Wall Street even smelled that kind of move, they'd turn on her instantly. No matter how powerful Storm Fund was, it'd be game over.
---
The Next Day – A Storm Breaks on Wall Street
News hit the financial world like a nuke.
Storm Fund had officially acquired Nike shares from Morris and several other big-time investors. With those added to their own stake, Storm Fund now held 40% of Nike—making them the largest shareholder, surpassing even the Knight family.
It was Storm Fund's first-ever corporate acquisition.
Over $5 billion was deployed in total. The average cost? Just $42.50. That's almost no premium—no extra costs, no bloated buyouts.
Wall Street was stunned.
A swift, clean takeover, no mess, no leaks. Storm Fund's reputation exploded. People now whispered the name Lindsay with awe.
---
Nike HQ – Beaverton, Oregon
Inside the plush executive office, Nike President Philip Knight sat frozen in his chair.
He only held 7.5% of the shares. Add in the rest of the Knight family, and they were still stuck at 17%. Even if he managed to sway some outside investors, the most he could reach was 32%.
Storm Fund now owned 40%. Game over.
His hands trembled as he muttered, "I shouldn't have provoked Zhao Dong… or Lindsay."
Regret came too late.
---
Chicago – Meanwhile…
Michael Jordan was in disbelief when he saw the news on CNBC.
"You're savage. You're damn savage."
She didn't take over the Bulls… she bought out Nike.
Lindsay looked like a harmless angel, but she was stone-cold vicious. She didn't just cut from the side—she went straight for the heart.
Later That Afternoon – Nike Headquarters
A fleet of black SUVs pulled up in front of the Nike campus. Dozens of people poured out. At the front: Lindsay and Zhao Dong.
Behind them? A full security detail, key executives, and a powerful legal team—sixty, maybe seventy people deep.
They walked through the main entrance without a second of hesitation.
When the elevator doors opened to the executive floor, Nike's in-house security moved in, unsure whether to stop them.
"Don't move."
Zhao Dong's security detail stepped forward and blocked them cold.
A man stepped out from the group, sharp suit, glasses gleaming. It was John Lex, one of the most feared lawyers in New York.
"I'm Attorney John Lex. I'm here on behalf of the new ownership."
He looked each Nike staff member in the eyes.
"As of this moment, Ms. Lindsay is the new majority shareholder of Nike. Your company has officially changed hands."
Silence fell over the room. Everyone just stared.
Then—
BANG!
The heavy double doors to Phil Knight's office burst open as one of Lindsay's men stepped inside.
Lindsay entered the boardroom with Zhao Dong and a group of high-profile lawyers in tow. Philip Knight's assistant trailed behind, looking completely lost, unsure of how to react in the face of what just happened.
"Miss Lindsay?"
Philip Knight stared blankly at her. This girl—this devil in angel's clothing—had just snatched away everything he had built in his life. Nike, his life's work, was no longer his.
By 5 p.m. that same day, Nike officially announced a change in ownership. The Storm Fund had successfully taken over, becoming Nike's major shareholder. A shareholder meeting was scheduled for the 16th.
---
Chicago, Illinois
Jordan had just gotten home and was about to head out to pick up his kids. When the news broke, he flew into a rage.
"Bang!"
He kicked the door of his Ferrari, leaving a massive dent in the side.
The headlines were everywhere:
"Nike's change in ownership could spark a global shakeup in sports goods." — New York Times
"Storm Fund CEO Lindsay has previously stated intentions to dismantle Nike. Will other shareholders allow it?" — New York Business Journal
---
The next morning, every media outlet was reporting on the Nike acquisition. As Nike was a major NBA sponsor and had contracts with 42% of the league's active players, the takeover caused a huge stir in NBA circles.
Other companies like Adidas immediately went into damage control. They started bringing in new investors to their boardrooms, encouraging friendly funds to repurchase shares—anything to avoid becoming the Storm Fund's next target.
---
Meanwhile, back in New York, Zhao Dong got a direct call from David Stern.
"Zhao Dong, I need to talk to you and your wife. You got time?" Stern's tone was serious.
When Lindsay took over Nike, Stern naturally grew concerned. Was she planning to use the brand's influence to build a superteam around Zhao Dong and the Knicks?
But he was overthinking it. Even if Lindsay had that idea, Zhao Dong wouldn't have agreed.
He didn't want to share the spotlight with anyone else. Period.
"Mr. Stern, what exactly are you worried about?" Zhao Dong asked calmly over the phone.
"Look, last time I blocked the Lakers from trading for Karl Malone... you get what I'm saying."
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Relax, Mr. Stern. Storm Fund's not gonna meddle with the league through Nike. I can guarantee that."
But Stern still hesitated. He wasn't entirely convinced, especially with the rumors about Zhao Dong being Lindsay's boy toy floating around.
"You don't trust me?" Zhao Dong said, sounding annoyed. "Fine. I'll let Lindsay explain it to you herself."
He handed Lindsay the phone. "Eve, talk to this old guy. He doesn't trust me."
Lindsay picked up.
"Hello, Mr. Stern. I'm Eve Lindsay, Zhao Dong's wife."
"Ms. Lindsay, pleasure to speak with you."
"My husband just told me you're worried about Storm Fund interfering with the league. Let me be clear—Zhao Dong is everything to me. If he says something, I stand behind him, 100%."
"…I appreciate that, Ms. Lindsay. I wish you and Zhao Dong all the best." Stern finally hung up, satisfied—for now.
Later that Day — 5:00 p.m., NBA Headquarters
The NBA's labor and management reached an agreement on the luxury tax and soft salary cap. The new labor deal was essentially finalized.
After the meeting, Knicks owner James Dolan pulled Stern aside and headed to his office.
"David, I've talked to you about this before. We want Zhao Dong to be paid the same as Jordan. We're even willing to give extra subsidies to make up the difference. What's your take?"
Stern leaned back, rubbing his temple. "James, I don't think that's possible now. This deal is practically done. I don't want to complicate it."
"But what happens if Zhao Dong walks away?" Dolan pushed. "The guy made hundreds of millions off that fight with Tyson. You think he's gonna keep playing for a couple million a year? Be real. We can't afford to lose him."
"I know." Stern sighed. "I've been thinking about this for days."
"Then what's the move? If the Knicks can't keep him, no one else can either. A Jordan-level salary means nothing to him financially. But we can't keep insulting the guy by underpaying him just 'cause he loves the game."
Stern finally nodded. "Alright, here's what you do. Sign him to a deal a little lower than Jordan's, pay part of the luxury tax to the league, and I'll let you compensate the rest off-book. That way, we don't stir up the other teams."
Dolan chuckled bitterly. "Guess we're spending even more now."
Still, he nodded. It was the best deal they were gonna get.
---
That Night — Knicks Front Office
The Knicks held an emergency meeting. Present: owner James Dolan, GM Ernie Grunfeld, and Zhao Dong's agent, Ringo Wells.
Only one agenda: Zhao Dong's contract.
Ernie broke it down. "Larry Johnson's contract is $10.19 million. Sprewell's getting $8.3 million. The rest aren't too bad. Total committed salary is $27.2 million."
He sighed. Trading Larry Johnson was one of his biggest regrets.
"Ernie, what's your plan?" Dolan asked.
"I'm thinking we buy out Larry. That clears $10 million. That drops our total payroll to $17.01 million. Then, we offer Zhao Dong $10 million per year."
He paused.
"Of course, with the luxury tax in play, we're gonna owe extra. But if we give Zhao Dong a $15 million deal, we just pay $5 million in luxury tax. That's manageable."
"Still... other teams might complain," someone muttered.
---
The meeting wrapped at 10 p.m.
Ringo Wells called Zhao Dong and laid out the situation.
Zhao Dong immediately dialed Larry Johnson.
"Yo, Larry."
"Zhao! Yeah, I heard. Management just hit me up. Told me to talk to my agent tomorrow morning."
"What're you thinking?" Zhao Dong asked.
"Maybe I'll re-sign with the Knicks for the vet minimum. Would you even want me back?" Johnson joked.
"Hell yeah. Let's run it back and win a dynasty this year." Zhao Dong laughed.
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