Case Study • Standard Draft
Ionio partnered with Standard Draft to build a legal tech platform where both sides of a contract draft, negotiate and sign in one place, working from a shared neutral form rather than a fight over whose template wins. A routine enterprise contract went from roughly 31 days down to about six hours.
The raw material was one corporate lawyer's working knowledge. Ryan Samii was a big law corporate lawyer before he founded Standard Draft, and he knew which decisions in an NDA actually get argued and which parts nobody has ever changed. We encoded that into a templating engine and built the platform around it. Building it is what took him from practising lawyer to Hebbia, and then to Head of Product Innovation at Harvey ($11B), the largest legal AI company in the world.
Ryan Samii, Founder of Standard Draft. Now Head of Product Innovation at Harvey.
“You brought a willingness to not just go in and start coding, but really gain a deep appreciation of what we're all trying to do here.”
“Your approach was really sharp. People were able to gain confidence, like, yeah, this actually is a really smart way to build this.”
“You weren't trying to go with some funky languages or tech stacks, so that you could empower me to bring additional talent down the road.”
“Ionio didn't disappear after the MVP was built. They continued to work with us to fix bugs and make improvements based on user feedback.”
“It felt like there were partners around the table with me, not just people carrying out discrete tasks.”
“Particularly for someone like me, a first-time founder, a non-technical founder, having that kind of partnership around the table has been instrumental.”
Two companies want to work together. Before anything else happens, their lawyers have to agree on a contract.
Here is how that goes. One side sends the contract as a Word document. The other side reads it, highlights what they want changed, and sends it back with comments. Someone adds a clause. Someone narrows a definition. The file crosses again, and every time it lands a lawyer has to read the whole thing to find out what moved.
Put fifteen lawyers on each side of that exchange and a routine contract takes 31 days to close. Complex deals take longer.
One document, four crossings, a month gone.
Most of that time has nothing to do with legal judgment. Every negotiation opens with an argument about whose template to use, which decides nothing about the deal and only settles who gets to draft from their own preferred language. After that both sides write in prose, with no shared reference for what a normal version of a clause looks like, so they build it from scratch. Then they do it again on the next deal.
The tooling never helped, because every legal product ever built serves one side. Yours helps your team draft faster. Theirs does the same in the opposite direction. You can double your own speed and the negotiation still takes a month, because the bottleneck was never one side working slowly. It was the document bouncing between two.
Every tool makes a half faster. None of it reaches the middle.
The cost of that lands on the business, not the legal department. Reviewing and processing one basic everyday contract runs to at least $7,000, and complex or multi-party agreements cost far more. It scales with growth, since more deals mean more contracts and more hours spent reading them. Organisations spend hundreds of thousands of dollars a year here, and 89% of those surveyed still don't call their contracting process efficient. Every day the paperwork takes is a day the revenue behind it has not arrived.
Standard Draft moved this from a month of document ping-pong into a workflow measured in hours.
Both sides work on the same platform, from the same neutral form. Clauses get configured through an interface rather than rewritten in prose, and the other party can see exactly what you changed and how the draft differs from where you both started. That is a >10x acceleration on the step that gates every agreement a company signs.
We run every prospective build through the same check. We call it the monetisation test. Someone holds deep expertise in a domain. They already have distribution into the market that needs it. And somewhere in their work sits a complex task they repeat constantly, solving it the same way each time. Put a software layer over those three and a service becomes something that earns without the expert in the room.
Ryan had all three, which is why this project was worth doing:
Years as a corporate lawyer on mergers and acquisitions, with a working knowledge of which contract points get argued and what the reasonable positions on each one are.
A network across the legal space, and direct access to the people who would use the product.
Drafting and negotiating NDAs for enterprise counterparties, over and over, at $7,000 a contract.
What made it encodable was the repetition. After enough transactions Ryan knew the shape of a contract before he opened the document, and a pattern that stable can be written down carefully enough to hand to someone with no legal training at all.
The expertise stops being a service billed by the hour and becomes a product that earns while the expert sleeps.
So Standard Draft is not a faster editor and not an assistant sitting beside a lawyer. It is one experienced corporate lawyer's working knowledge, encoded into templates and configuration rules, so anyone can arrive at the contract he would have drafted.
We have since given this idea a name and built a practice around it. Prescriptive Intelligence is the same move applied to platforms that already exist: encode the domain SOPs, run them against live data, and output the exact next action rather than another dashboard. Standard Draft was us doing it before we had the language for it.
We started building this in 2022. Standard Draft was our first legal product, and most of what made it difficult had nothing to do with writing code.
The kind of negotiation Standard Draft was built for happens between legal teams at companies large enough to have them, behind closed doors, under privilege. None of it is written down anywhere you can go and read it. So Ryan taught us. How a mutual NDA differs from a unilateral one, why the definition of confidential information gets fought over, what a markup is and who produces it, and what a lawyer expects to see on screen before they will trust software with a live deal. We spent real weeks on this before anyone drew a wireframe.
What this meantLearn the work first. Wireframes came after.
A contract on Standard Draft is open to both sides at once, and each of them needs to understand it from the opposite direction. That meant an engine rendering your changes, the counterparty's changes, the clean contract, the markup, and the difference between the current draft and the form you both started from. All of those views had to agree with each other, however many rounds the document had been through.
What this meantFive views of one document, never disagreeing.
Contracts are not hardcoded into Standard Draft. Every contract type lives as a template, and the platform assembles the document from it at runtime. This was the hardest thing we built. An NDA runs to eight sections, with sub-sections inside them and a third layer of nesting below that. Click an option on the left and the right text has to appear, move or disappear, at any depth, in any order a lawyer happens to work in. There was no AI to lean on in 2022 and nothing published on how to do it. We took the work on without knowing whether it was solvable.
What this meantWe started without knowing it could be done.
Legal is a regulated industry and the documents moving through this platform were live commercial agreements under negotiation. Data handling, retention, access control and audit trails all had to be designed in from the first architecture decision. A compliance posture cannot be retrofitted onto a legal platform that is already running. We built for SOC 2 and GDPR readiness from the start, because a product that fails procurement never reaches a user regardless of how good it is.
What this meantArchitected for procurement from day one.
Ryan was blunt about this early. With a consumer product a shaky first version still gets another look. With lawyers as the target user, the product has to be legitimate before anyone will touch it. That set the bar for everything we shipped. No rough edges we planned to fix later, and no features that worked most of the time.
What this meantNo rough edges. No features that mostly worked.
"The engineering was the tractable part. The hard part was a closed profession, a document two sides had to trust, and a bar that had to be cleared on the first try."
An NDA that would normally take a month of Word documents and email, built, marked up and sent to the other side in a single sitting. Here is Standard Draft from the inside.
Standard Draft sits between two companies rather than serving one of them. One side proposes a contract, both sides work the same document, and it moves from drafting through to signature without leaving the platform.
Creating a contract takes three screens. The platform states plainly that it is a legal technology company and not a law firm, then asks which form you want and what to call the document. The form selection is where the templating engine surfaces to the user: a short-form NDA built for everyday commercial use, a long-form built for M&A and financings with the full range of configurability, and room for the contract types that were coming next.
The contract opens pre-populated with sensible defaults, split down the middle. Configuration on the left, the live agreement on the right, and the eight sections of an NDA laid across the top from Confidential Information through to Miscellaneous. The badge tracks where you are: drafting, stage one of three.
Nobody hands over a template and nobody starts from a blank page.
Open a section and it breaks into the points that are actually negotiable. Under the definition of Confidential Information sit the timing of disclosure, the form it has to take, whether it must be marked as confidential to qualify, and how to treat derived material.
Change one and the agreement rewrites itself beside you, new language underlined in blue against the neutral form everyone started from. The card marks itself Edited by you and carries a comment thread, so the other side can see what moved and argue about it in place rather than over email.
Not everything is open. The short-form NDA locks the sections it was not built to configure and says so in place, pointing you to the long form if you need them. What stays configurable, like the term or the governing law, opens on demand.
That is the templating engine doing its job. A contract here is a structured object with rules attached, not a document that will let you write something incoherent.
Once a set of positions is settled, it can be saved as a template and pulled into the next contract of the same type. A legal team stops re-deciding the same dozen points on every deal and starts from its own house standard.
Every section checked off, and the contract goes to the counterparty. You enter their side and yours separately, and either party can add viewers from their own team.
This is the part that makes Standard Draft a bridge rather than another one-sided tool. The counterparty opens the same contract in their own account, sees the same version chain, and can read the draft against the neutral form it started from. No attachment, no reconciling two copies of a Word file, no reading the whole agreement to work out what changed.
Ionio owned the full arc: product strategy, wireframes, UI and UX, architecture, the build, deployment, and the handover at the end. Five systems carry the product.
Every contract type lives as a template that describes its sections, its sub-sections, the third layer of nesting below those, which configurable point governs which passage of text, and what happens to the surrounding language when that point changes. Get it right and a new contract type becomes an authoring job rather than an engineering one. Write the template, load it in, and the platform can negotiate it. That is what turned Standard Draft from an NDA tool into a platform, and what made the roadmap into M&A agreements possible at all.
One file, and every clause grows from it.
Ryan told us in the first wireframing session that lawyers will not work inside a questionnaire. They need the full text of what they are agreeing to in front of them while they agree to it. So the configuration panel and the live contract sit together on one screen and stay in step, with the affected language marked as each decision lands. Getting that correct at every depth of the template, in every combination a lawyer might click through, took months.
Lawyers would not answer questions about a document they could not see.
The engine renders a contract five ways: clean, marked up, your changes, the counterparty's changes, and the difference between the current draft and the neutral form. That last view is what makes the negotiation honest, because nobody has to read the whole agreement hunting for what moved. Alongside it, the version history chain records every round and who did what, and any clause can be opened for background on the standard positions available, then changed or reinstated in a single click.
Turn the dial to the fifth setting and the argument ends.
A contract that leaves the platform has to be indistinguishable from the one on screen. Legal documents carry meaning in their structure, and a numbering scheme that shifts or an indent that collapses is not a cosmetic problem when the document is about to be signed. We built the export path to hold every style exactly, so the file a lawyer opens is the file they approved.
The file a lawyer opens is the file they approved.
Once the platform was running we added a chatbot over the live contract, built with retrieval augmented generation and embeddings so the model answered from the agreement in front of the user rather than from general knowledge. This was the GPT-3.5 era, when the API had barely shipped and nobody had settled how to do this well. It let a user ask what a provision meant in plain terms, understand why the other side had requested a change, and draft common contracts from ordinary language. For a product arguing that contract decisions should be legible, that was the right place to put AI.
Not what the model knows. What this contract says.
The platform runs on a deliberately conventional stack. Ryan was going to hire engineers of his own eventually, and every choice had to be one he could hire into.
Carries the split-screen contract designer, the most demanding surface in the product. Every selection redraws the document beside it without a page reload and without losing the user's place in a long agreement.
Runs template resolution, the version history chain and the comparison logic. Mature, thoroughly documented, and staffable anywhere in the world.
Powers the contract chatbot. Contract text is embedded and retrieved so answers come from the agreement actually in front of the user.
Every component containerised and deployed to AWS. Consistent environments across the team and capacity that grows without re-architecting.
A contract negotiated on the platform gets signed from the platform, rather than exported into a separate process somewhere else.
Architected for readiness from the first decision, because legal teams put software through procurement before they put a contract into it.
A routine enterprise contract took roughly 31 days to draft and negotiate. On Standard Draft it took a working day at most, at several times lower cost. That came from deleting the parts of the process that were never legal work: the argument over whose template starts the deal, the read-through of a returned document to find what moved, the reconstruction of which version anyone is looking at.
Standard Draft went into private beta with real agreements moving through it, and it was taken seriously by large names in the legal industry. For a product whose first users are practising lawyers, that is the hard part. Ryan set the bar himself when he told us that with lawyers as the target user the product has to be legitimate before anyone will touch it, and the platform cleared it.
Ryan started this project as a corporate lawyer. Nothing on his record said technology. By the time the platform was live he had specified, built and shipped a legal AI product, and could sit with engineers and talk about how it worked.
The legal industry had almost nobody like that, and it was about to need a great many of them.
He joined Hebbia as their first lawyer, hired to build a legal vertical from nothing. From there he went to Harvey as Head of Product Innovation.
Harvey is the largest legal AI company in the world. In March 2026 it raised $200 million co-led by GIC and Sequoia at an $11 billion valuation, bringing total funding past $1.2 billion across ten rounds in under four years. More than 100,000 lawyers use it, across 1,300 organisations in 60 countries, including the majority of the AmLaw 100.
Lawyers do not get hired to run legal AI. Lawyers who have built it do.
That is the outcome worth pointing at. Standard Draft was never acquired, and we would rather say so than dress up a number. What the two years actually produced was a person the entire legal AI industry wanted, and the reason they wanted him is sitting in this case study. He could point at a real platform, explain every decision inside it, and prove he had done the thing rather than talked about it.
Partway through the build, Ryan commissioned a third-party audit of our work. The reviewer came in with a CTO-level brief: work out how they would have built Standard Draft, then compare that against how we actually had.
The point was not doubt. He knew he would be hiring engineers of his own eventually, and he wanted to know that when that day came they could pick the codebase up and run with it.
The real test of a handover is what happens after it.
What came back was that we had used ordinary technology in ordinary ways. React, Node, nothing clever for the sake of it. A new engineer could open the repository and recognise everything in it. That is the whole reason we choose stacks the way we do, because a client who can only run their product with us in the room does not really own it.
More founders should do this while a build is still in progress rather than after.
Two years, four phases, and a long pause in the middle that turned out to be the right call.
The gap between the first two bars is the pause that saved the build.
The micro POC exists because of a gap Ryan named directly. He could see we were polished on calls, and that told him nothing about whether we could build. So we took the early wireframes and made a piece of the thing work. It was one of the first engagements where we did this, and it is now standard practice on every project we run.
From our side this looked like a delay. In hindsight it was the most valuable stretch in the schedule. Once a build starts it develops its own momentum, and questions that should have been settled beforehand end up getting answered under pressure.
Ryan deliberately avoided opening it up. He watched how a small number of users actually used the product rather than asking whether they liked it, which meant the things that broke broke in front of people who mattered.
Standard Draft asked two sets of lawyers to abandon a habit the profession has held for decades. The engineering turned out to be the tractable part.
We spent real weeks learning enterprise contract negotiation before designing anything. Every good decision in the product traces back to that period, and the alternative was building clean software for a process we had only imagined.
We mapped most of the platform properly during wireframing and left a handful of edge cases for later. What happens if the sender wants the contract back after sending it. What happens if the recipient adds a viewer on their side. Those questions cost nothing on a whiteboard, and they came back at roughly double the cost once we were building, because now they had to be answered and implemented at the same time against code that already assumed something else. A four-month estimate on that stretch became eight.
We used a conventional stack, and it was the first thing the third-party audit approved. Unusual technology is a tax the client pays after you leave, in the form of a codebase only you can staff.
Standard Draft was not making an existing workflow faster. It was asking a profession to start somewhere new. No amount of product quality shortens that, because the competitor is not another platform, it is the way people already work.
That is the whole point of encoding expertise. Someone spends a decade learning to make a specific call well, and we build the system that makes it at scale, for people who never met them. Standard Draft did it with one corporate lawyer's knowledge of how enterprise contracts get argued. Prescriptive Intelligence does the same on platforms that already exist, encoding the SOPs and returning the next action instead of another dashboard.
Ryan brought expertise worth encoding. We built the platform that carried it, handed it over, and watched what it did for the person who had been selling it by the hour.
You hold deep expertise in a domain, the way Ryan did in enterprise contract negotiation, and you can see the next version of your category is a product, not more hands.
You want a partner who understands the business model as well as the technology, not a dev shop that only builds what you specify.
You want a chatbot for your dashboard, AI for the press release, or features a foundation model will commoditize in six months.
We will tell you that directly.
30 minutes. No deck. We will talk through your challenge, share some relevant work, and see if it makes sense to work together. Or honestly, just grab coffee and chat, no agenda needed.
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