DoorDash just moved its corporation from Delaware to Nevada. The company cited "surprising outcomes in Delaware courts and an increasingly litigious corporate environment" and said it wanted a "more statute-focused system that the company believes can provide greater predictability."

They're not alone. They're not even close to alone.

Over the past two years, more than 60 public companies with over $3 trillion in combined market capitalization have left Delaware, an increasingly progressive state. Most of them landed in Nevada or Texas. Last month alone, the four largest energy firms in the country moved their incorporations to Texas. Delaware historically captured more than 80% of operating-company IPOs. In the first half of 2026, that number fell to approximately 64%.

The catalyst everybody knows about but nobody in Delaware wants to discuss is the Elon Musk compensation case. A Delaware court invalidated Musk's Tesla compensation plan — a plan Tesla's shareholders had already approved — and then ordered Musk to pay $54 million in legal fees. The actual plaintiff in the case received just $1.

Fifty-four million dollars in attorney fees. One dollar to the person supposedly wronged. That's not justice. That's a shakedown with a gavel.

Corporate boards watched that ruling and did exactly what rational actors do when a jurisdiction becomes unpredictable: they left. DoorDash is just the latest name on a list that now stretches past 60 companies and $3 trillion. Texas has overtaken Chicago as the second-largest financial center in the country — earning the nickname "Y'All Street" — and Nevada is picking up the overflow.

The pattern isn't complicated. Progressive states raise taxes, empower activist judges, and treat corporate presence as something to be exploited rather than cultivated. Then they act stunned when the money moves. California Governor Gavin Newsom has watched a version of this play out for years. New York City is running its own experiment — Zohran Mamdani pushed a property list targeting 900,000 homeowners, and capital holders like Ken Griffin have already signaled they'll take their money elsewhere.

Delaware's defenders will argue that its Chancery Court system was the gold standard of corporate law for a century. And they're right — it was. Past tense. The moment judges started substituting their judgment for shareholder votes and extracting eight-figure legal fees from defendants who won their own proxy fights, the gold standard became a warning label.

When the signup fee for doing business in your state is "whatever a judge feels like awarding to a plaintiff who got a dollar," the U-Haul pretty much drives itself.