The lights were blinding.
I’d forgotten how bright stage lights could be.
Or maybe I’d just never noticed before.
Because I’d never been this close to the front row at the National Innovation Awards.
My husband, Derek, was on stage, accepting the Medical Technology Pioneer Award.
The trophy gleamed in his hands as he smiled at the camera.
That practiced smile I’d watched him perfect in our bathroom mirror for the past three weeks.
“I want to thank my incredible team at Metatech Solutions,”
he said, his voice carrying across the ballroom.
“To my brilliant VP of sales, Sophia Reeves, who believed in this vision from day one.”
I watched Sophia stand from her seat three tables away.
Her dark hair cascading over her burgundy dress as she placed a hand over her heart, mouthing thank you with tears in her eyes.
My own table was in the back.
Table 47.
I checked my place card twice when I arrived.
Derek continued.
“To my investors, my board members, my mentors.”
He paused, scanning the crowd.
His eyes passed over me without stopping.
“And to everyone who said a portable dialysis device was impossible, thank you for the motivation.”
The applause was thunderous.
I clapped too.
Automatically.
Even as something cold settled in my chest.
Seventeen years.
I’d spent seventeen years as a patent attorney.
And twelve of those years, I’d worked exclusively on Derek’s patents.
I’d filed the provisional application for the portable dialysis pump from our kitchen table while pregnant with Emma.
I’d argued the continuation case while recovering from a C-section, laptop balanced on my hospital bed.
I’d secured the international patents that made this company worth $340 million.
My name was on every single patent.
Elena Torres.
Patent attorney of record.
But tonight, I was just the woman at table 47.
“Elena, you okay, honey?”
I turned to find Patricia Morrison, a colleague from my old firm, looking at me with concern.
We’d been seated together.
Along with some junior associates from the medical law division.
“I’m fine,”
I said.
Though I wasn’t sure I was.
“That was a beautiful speech,”
Patricia said carefully.
She’d always been perceptive.
“Though I noticed, he forgot to thank his wife.”
A voice cut in from behind me.
I turned to see a young woman in a server’s uniform holding a champagne tray.
Her name tag reading Jess.
She wasn’t even trying to be subtle.
“Yeah, everyone at the service station noticed that, too. We were taking bets on whether you’d walk out, Jess.”
Patricia looked scandalized.
But Jess just shrugged.
“My ex did that, too. Gave a whole graduation speech thanking everyone but me. Meanwhile, I’d worked two jobs to pay his tuition.”
She lowered her voice.
“Watch out for the brunette in burgundy. She’s been hanging all over him backstage. Saw them in the green room earlier, and it wasn’t professional.”
Something in my stomach twisted.
The VP of sales.
If that’s what we’re calling her.
Jess gave me a pointed look before moving away with her tray.
Patricia touched my arm.
“Elena, you don’t have to—”
“Excuse me,”
I said, standing abruptly.
“I need some air.”
I made it to the hallway before my hands started shaking.
The corridor was quieter.
Lined with promotional posters for the various award nominees.
I stopped in front of one Meditech Solutions campaign photo.
Derek stood in the center.
Arms crossed.
Confident smile.
Behind him, the team was arranged in a pyramid.
Sophia Reeves prominently placed to his right.
The CFO.
The head of R&D.
The director of operations.
I wasn’t in the photo.
Nobody had even asked me to be in it.
“Looking for the ladies’ room?”
I spun around to find Sophia Reeves standing three feet away.
Holding two glasses of champagne.
Up close, she was younger than I’d thought.
Maybe 32.
Her smile was perfectly pleasant.
Perfectly poisonous.
“No. I—”
“You’re Elena, right?”
Derek’s wife.
She didn’t wait for my answer.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Derek talks about you all the time.”
That was the first lie.
I could tell by the way her eyes didn’t crinkle when she smiled.
“Though he did mention you’ve been so busy with your own work lately.”
Sophia continued, taking a sip from one of the glasses.
The other, I noticed, had lipstick on the rim.
Derek’s shade.
The preference he’d always liked when I wore red.
“It’s wonderful that you could make it tonight. I know these events can be so boring when you don’t really understand the technical side of things.”
The second lie.
Or maybe it was the third.
I’d lost count.
“I’m a patent attorney,”
I said quietly.
“I secured all 17 patents for the portable dialysis system, including the continuation-in-part that covers the fluid filtration mechanism Derek just won this award for.”
Sophia’s smile didn’t falter.
But something shifted in her eyes.
“Oh, how sweet. Derek mentioned you used to work in patent law before Emma was born. It’s so important for mothers to have hobbies.”
Used to work?
Hobbies?
I’d filed the most recent patent three months ago.
I’d worked through the night to meet the filing deadline while Derek was in Tokyo for a business conference.
A trip I was suddenly realizing probably wasn’t entirely about business.
“Well, I should get back,”
Sophia said, already turning.
“Derek will be wondering where I went. We have a lot of investors to schmooze tonight. You know how it is.”
Or, well.
“You probably don’t, but it’s quite exhausting.”
She paused, looking back over her shoulder.
“Oh, and Elena. That’s such a pretty dress. Very practical. Perfect for a mom.”
She walked away before I could respond.
Her heels clicking against the marble floor.
I stood there for a long moment.
Something hot and sharp building in my chest.
Then I pulled out my phone.
The first search was simple.
Metate Solutions ownership structure.
It took me less than three minutes to pull up the corporate filings.
There it was.
Buried in the documents I’d filed myself two months ago.
Torres Patent Holdings LLC.
Sixty-two percent ownership of all IP assets.
I’d set up the holding company seven years ago.
Right after Emma was born.
Derek had been too busy with fundraising to pay attention to the paperwork.
He’d signed everything I put in front of him.
Trusting that I was handling the boring legal stuff.
The IP holding company owned the patents.
The patents were worth conservatively $180 million in licensing value alone.
Without them, Metate Solutions couldn’t manufacture a single device.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Derek.
Where are you? Investors want to meet you.
I stared at the message.
Then I opened my contacts and scrolled to a name I hadn’t called in six months.
James Martinez.
My former senior partner at Morrison and Martinez LLP.
He answered on the second ring.
“Elena, this is a surprise.”
“James, I need to ask you something hypothetical,”
I said.
My voice surprisingly steady.
“If someone wanted to revoke a licensing agreement for patent usage, how quickly could that be done?”
There was a pause.
“That would depend on the terms of the licensing agreement. Why do you—Elena? What’s going on?”
“Just hypothetically.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“If the patent holder wanted to revoke a perpetual license with a notice provision, and if they had grounds for breach, 30 days’ notice would be standard. But Elena, that kind of move would destroy the company’s ability to operate.”
I finished.
“I know.”
“Jesus. You’re talking about MedTech, aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
“Elena,”
James said carefully.
“I know Derek. If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, you need to be absolutely sure. This isn’t just business. This is nuclear.”
“I need to go,”
I said.
“I’ll call you Monday.”
I ended the call before he could respond.
My phone buzzed again.
Derek.
Elena.
Where the hell are you?
I turned it to silent.
And walked back into the ballroom.
The ceremony was wrapping up.
Derek was at a table surrounded by investors.
Sophia at his elbow.
Laughing at something someone said.
When he saw me approaching, his expression shifted.
Annoyance.
Quickly masked.
“There you are.”
He stood.
Putting his arm around my waist in a gesture that looked affectionate but felt like a grip.
“Elena was just freshening up. Honey, this is Marcus Chen from Harbinger Ventures, and you remember Sandra Lou from our Series B round.”
I smiled at them.
They smiled back.
Everyone was smiling.
“Your husband is going to change the world,”
Marcus said enthusiastically.
“The portable dialysis pump is revolutionary. We’re looking at a $2 billion valuation by Q3.”
“That’s wonderful,”
I said.
“Elena’s been so supportive,”
Derek said.
Squeezing my waist tighter.
“Taking care of Emma while I’ve been working such long hours. I couldn’t have done this without her holding down the fort at home.”
Sophia leaned in.
“Derek tells me Emma’s in such a great pottery class now. How old is she? Twelve? Fourteen?”
“Fourteen,”
I corrected.
“And it’s ceramics, not pottery. She’s actually quite talented. Her piece was selected for the youth exhibition at the Morrison Gallery.”
“How sweet,”
Sophia said.
In a tone that suggested it wasn’t sweet at all.
Derek’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at it, then back at the investors.
“Elena, why don’t you head home? I know you’re tired, and I’ll be here for a few more hours doing the networking circuit. I’ll catch a ride with—”
He paused.
“Just briefly, with Richard from the board.”
“Actually, I’ll stay,”
I said.
“I’d love to hear more about the Series C projections.”
Something flickered across Derek’s face.
Surprise.
Maybe.
Or irritation.
“Honey, it’s going to be boring technical talk.”
“I’m a patent attorney with a specialty in medical devices,”
I said pleasantly.
“I think I can keep up.”
Marcus Chen laughed.
“She’s got you there, Derek. And honestly, it would be great to get her perspective. The due diligence team has questions about some of the patent coverage in the Asian markets.”
I watched Derek’s jaw tighten slightly.
“Of course. Elena loves talking about her work. Don’t you, honey?”
We stayed for another hour.
I answered every question the investors asked.
Watching Derek’s expression grow tighter with each answer.
When Marcus Chen asked about the continuation applications, and I explained the claims architecture in detail, I saw Sophia’s smile finally slip.
At 11:30, Derek announced we were leaving.
We didn’t speak in the car.
He drove too fast.
His hands tight on the steering wheel of his Tesla Model S.
The one he’d bought with the Series B funding while I was still driving my 10-year-old Honda.
“What the hell was that?”
he finally said as we pulled into our driveway.
“What was what?”
“That performance back there. Showing off for the investors. Answering questions like you’re some kind of expert.”
I stared at him.
“Derek, I am an expert. I wrote every single patent that company is built on.”
“You wrote what I told you to write,”
he snapped.
“You think filing paperwork makes you an inventor? I created that technology. You just handled the legal bureaucracy.”
We sat in the dark garage.
The overhead light clicking off on its timer.
“Did you sleep with her?”
I asked quietly.
He didn’t answer.
Which was an answer itself.
“How long, Elena?”
“How long, Derek?”
He exhaled slowly.
“It’s not what you think.”
“So that’s a yes.”
“It’s complicated. Sophia and I, we have a connection. We understand each other’s vision for the company. You’ve been so focused on Emma and your hobbies.”
“My hobbies?”
The word came out sharper than I intended.
“You mean my legal career that’s been on hold for 12 years because someone needed to actually raise our daughter while you were working late with your VP of sales?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“How long, Derek?”
Silence.
“Two years,”
he finally said.
“Since we hired her.”
Two years.
The number sat between us like a stone.
I got out of the car without another word.
I walked into the house.
Past the kitchen where I’d spent countless nights reviewing patent applications while heating up Emma’s dinner.
Past the living room where I’d celebrated when the USPTO granted our first patent.
I went to my office.
The converted guest room that Derek always complained made the house look cluttered when investors visited.
I pulled out my laptop and opened the licensing agreement between Torres Patent Holdings LLC and Metatech Solutions.
Section with the termination provisions.
Licenser may terminate this agreement with 30 days’ written notice in the event of:
A. Material breach by Licensee.
B. Change in Licenser’s business circumstances.
or C. Licenser’s determination that continuation of license is no longer in Licenser’s best interests.
I’d written that clause myself seven years ago.
Derek had signed it without reading it.
I opened a new document and began typing.
To whom it may concern.
This letter serves as formal notice of termination of the patent licensing agreement dated the 15th of March 2018 between Torres Patent Holdings LLC, Licenser, and Metatech Solutions Incorporated, Licensee, pursuant to section 8.3(c) of said agreement.
Licenser hereby terminates all licensing rights effective 30 days from the date of this notice.
I paused.
My fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Thirty days.
In thirty days, Metatech Solutions wouldn’t be able to manufacture a single dialysis pump.
The investors would pull out.
The company would collapse.
Derek’s award tonight would become a punchline.
I thought about Sophia’s smile.
Derek talks about you all the time.
Used to work in patent law.
Very practical.
I thought about table 47.
I thought about seventeen years.
I finished the letter at 6:00 a.m.
I sent it via certified mail to Metatech’s registered agent.
I CC’d the board of directors.
The general counsel.
And every major investor.
Then I called Emma’s cell phone.
She answered groggy.
Fourteen-year-olds were not morning people.
“Mom, it’s Saturday.”
“I know, baby. I need you to pack a bag. We’re going to Aunt Rachel’s for a few days.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ll explain in the car. Pack enough for a week.”
“Is something wrong with Dad?”
I looked at the divorce papers I’d had drawn up six months ago when I’d first suspected.
I’d been waiting for the right time to file them.
Apparently, the right time was now.
“No, sweetheart. But things are going to change for a while. Trust me.”
“Okay.”
Okay.
She sounded uncertain.
But not panicked.
Emma was smart.
She’d noticed things, too.
Even if she hadn’t said anything.
Derek was still asleep when we left.
I left the divorce papers on the kitchen counter.
Right next to his coffee maker.
By the time we arrived at my sister Rachel’s house in Connecticut, my phone had 43 missed calls.
I turned it off.
Rachel opened the door in her bathrobe.
Took one look at my face.
And said,
“I’ll make coffee.”
We sat at her kitchen table.
Her immaculate kitchen.
In her immaculate house.
That she’d bought with her own salary as a cardiac surgeon.
And I told her everything.
“Holy shit,”
Rachel said when I finished.
“You actually did it. You actually nuked his company?”
“Not yet. He has 30 days to comply with the termination terms or negotiate a new agreement.”
“At what price?”
“Every patent in the portfolio. Every future patent. And a 50% equity stake in perpetuity.”
Rachel whistled.
“He’ll never agree to that.”
“I know.”
“So you’re really going to destroy it?”
I thought about that.
“I’m not destroying anything. I’m just taking back what was always mine.”
My phone powered back on around noon.
The notifications came flooding in.
Text messages.
Voicemails.
Emails.
Derek:
What the [ __ ] did you do?
Derek:
Elena, answer your phone right now.
Derek:
You can’t do this. This is my company.
Derek:
Call me back or I’m calling the police.
I deleted his messages without reading past the preview.
There was a voicemail from James Martinez.
“Elena, I don’t know what you did, but Metatech’s general counsel just called me in a panic. They received your termination notice. Derek is threatening to sue. Call me.”
Another voicemail from Marcus Chen.
“Mrs. Torres, this is Marcus Chen from Harbinger Ventures. We need to discuss this matter urgently. Please call me at your earliest convenience.”
And one from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Elena, this is Sophia Reeves. I think there’s been a terrible misunderstanding. Derek is very upset. We both are. Please call me so we can resolve this like adults.”
We.
She’d said we.
I called James Martinez.
“Thank God,”
he said when he answered.
“Elena, talk to me. What’s your end game here?”
“My end game is getting what I’m owed. Seventeen years of work, James. Seventeen years of my career sacrificed while he built an empire on my IP. And you know what he said when I asked about it last night? He said, ‘I handled the bureaucracy.’”
“Jesus.”
“I want 50% equity. All future patent rights. And a seat on the board. Non-negotiable.”
“He’ll fight you.”
“Let him. Every patent is in my name. Torres Patent Holdings owns the IP. The licensing agreement gives me the right to terminate. He can sue all he wants. He’ll lose.”
James was quiet for a moment.
“You know this will get ugly.”
“It’s already ugly.”
“Fair point. Okay. I’ll draft the proposed settlement terms. But Elena, be prepared. Men like Derek don’t go down easy.”
He was right.
By Monday morning, Derek had hired Steinberg and Associates.
The most aggressive litigation firm in Boston.
By Monday afternoon, I had a cease and desist letter threatening legal action for tortious interference and breach of marital fiduciary duty.
I forwarded it to James with a single line.
See you in court.
The story broke on Tuesday.
TechCrunch ran the headline.
Metatech Solutions faces IP crisis as co-founder’s wife revokes patent license.
By Wednesday, it was everywhere.
The Wall Street Journal.
Forbes.
Bloomberg.
Even local news picked it up.
Thursday morning, I woke up to find my LinkedIn had exploded with connection requests.
Patent attorneys I’d never met wanted to discuss collaboration opportunities.
Reporters wanted interviews.
And most surprisingly, three different women had sent me messages thanking me for standing up to the boys club.
One of them was from a name I recognized.
Dr. Sarah Patel.
Chief medical officer at a competing medical device company.
Dear Elena,
it read,
I don’t know if you remember me, but we met briefly at the medical innovation summit in 2019. I wanted to reach out because I think we might have some mutual interest to discuss. Would you be available for coffee this week?
I stared at the message.
Sarah Patel was a legend in the medical device world.
She’d pioneered three different cardiac devices.
And held over forty patents herself.
I sent back.
Friday at 10:00 a.m.
She replied within minutes.
Perfect. I’ll send you the address.
Friday morning, I met Sarah at a coffee shop in Cambridge.
Not far from MIT.
She was smaller than I remembered.
Maybe 5’2.
With silver-streaked black hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail.
“Elena,”
she said, shaking my hand firmly.
“Thank you for meeting with me.”
“Of course. Though I admit, I’m curious why you wanted to.”
Sarah smiled.
“Because I’ve been watching what you’re doing with Metatech, and I want to offer you a job.”
I blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Biomed Innovations is developing a new line of cardiovascular monitoring devices. We need someone who understands both the technical side and the patent strategy. Someone who can think ten steps ahead.”
She leaned forward.
“I read your patent applications for the dialysis pump. The claims architecture is brilliant. Especially the continuation strategy. That was your work, wasn’t it? Not Derek’s.”
“Yes,”
I said quietly.
“I thought so. Derek Torres couldn’t architect his way out of a paper bag. I’ve read his undergraduate thesis.”
“But you? You’re the real deal.”
She slid a folder across the table.
“This is our offer. Senior patent counsel with equity participation and a seat on our IP strategy committee. Starting salary is $280,000 plus bonus.”
I opened the folder.
My hands slightly shaking.
The number at the top of the offer letter swam in my vision.
“You’re offering me more than you’re worth probably,”
Sarah said dryly.
“But I have a good feeling about you. Plus, it’ll drive Derek absolutely insane when he finds out you’re working for his biggest competitor.”
I started laughing.
I couldn’t help it.
“Is that a yes?”
Sarah asked.
“Can I think about it for a few days?”
“Take a week. But Elena—”
She stood up, preparing to leave.
“Don’t let him make you small. You’re too talented for that.”
After she left, I sat in the coffee shop for a long time, staring at the offer letter.
I’d been making $65,000 at the small firm where I’d worked part-time.
The only job I could manage while raising Emma and handling Derek’s patent work for free.
My phone rang.
It was a number I didn’t recognize.
But I answered anyway.
“Elena Torres,”
a woman’s voice.
Professional.
Speaking.
“This is Catherine Walsh from the Massachusetts Bar Association. I’m calling because we’d like to invite you to speak on a panel about women in patent law at our spring conference.”
“I—what?”
“Your case has generated quite a bit of discussion in the legal community. We think your perspective would be valuable. Particularly for young women entering the field. Would you be interested?”
I thought about that.
About standing on a stage.
Talking about my work.
Not as Derek’s wife.
Not as Derek’s former attorney.
As Elena Torres.
Patent lawyer.
“Yes,”
I said.
“I’d be interested.”
That night, Emma and I made pizza from scratch in Rachel’s kitchen.
Something we used to do every Friday.
Before Derek decided our kitchen needed to be showroom-ready at all times for potential investor visits.
“Mom,”
Emma said, shredding mozzarella.
“Are you and Dad getting divorced?”
I’d been dreading this question.
“Yes, baby. We are.”
She nodded slowly.
“Because of Sophia?”
My head snapped up.
“You knew.”
“Mom, I’m fourteen. Not stupid. I’ve seen the way they text each other and he’s been gone every weekend for business trips for like two years.”
She paused.
“I was kind of waiting for you to figure it out.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Are you okay?”
I asked.
Emma shrugged.
“I mean, it sucks, but also Dad’s kind of been a jerk lately. He forgot my birthday last month.”
He had.
He’d been in San Francisco for a crucial investor meeting that turned out to be Sophia’s birthday dinner.
I’d seen the Instagram post.
“I’m sorry, Em. It’s not your fault.”
She looked at me seriously.
“Is it true you’re taking away his patents?”
“Not exactly. I’m taking back my patents. I wrote them. I filed them. They were always mine.”
“Good,”
Emma said fiercely.
“He acted like he did everything himself. It was annoying.”
I hugged her then.
Getting flour in her hair.
“We’re going to be okay,”
I told her.
“I know,”
she said.
“You’re like really smart, Mom. You’ll figure it out.”
The board meeting was scheduled for the following Tuesday.
Metatech’s board of directors had requested an emergency session to discuss the IP situation.
I wasn’t technically required to attend.
I wasn’t on the board after all.
But James had negotiated my presence as the representative of Torres Patent Holdings LLC.
Derek fought it.
Obviously.
But the board overruled him.
Without the patents, the company was worthless.
They needed to hear my terms.
I wore my favorite suit.
Navy Armani.
Purchased with my own salary back when I had a real career.
I’d had it tailored last week.
It fit perfectly.
The Metatech offices were in a gleaming building in Kendall Square.
I’d been there exactly twice before.
Once for the grand opening five years ago.
And once for the Series B celebration party where Derek forgot to introduce me to the investors.
The receptionist’s eyes widened when I walked in.
“Mrs. Torres, they’re waiting for you in the executive boardroom, 10th floor.”
I took the elevator up, watching the numbers climb.
My heart was pounding.
But my hands were steady.
The boardroom was all glass and steel with a view of the Charles River.
Eight people sat around the table.
The five board members.
Derek.
Sophia.
Why was she here?
And Metatech’s general counsel.
Derek stood when I entered.
“You have no right to be here.”
“Sit down, Derek,”
said Margaret Chow.
The lead investor from Sequoia Capital.
“Miss Torres was invited by the board.”
I took a seat at the head of the table.
The one usually reserved for Derek.
“Let’s make this quick,”
Margaret said.
“Miss Torres, we’ve reviewed your termination notice and your proposed new licensing terms. The board would like to understand your position.”
“My position is simple,”
I said.
“Torres Patent Holdings LLC owns all 17 patents that cover the portable dialysis technology. For the past seven years, those patents have been licensed to Metatech Solutions under an agreement that I now choose to terminate.”
“You can’t do that,”
Derek said.
“Those patents were developed using company resources.”
“Actually, they weren’t.”
I pulled out a folder.
“I have documented every hour I worked on those patents. All work was performed during personal time using personal equipment. The patents are mine.”
Sophia leaned forward.
“But Derek invented the technology. You just filed the paperwork.”
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
She was younger than me.
Prettier, probably.
But she was also afraid.
I could see it in the way her fingers gripped her pen.
“Miss Reeves,”
I said calmly.
“I’m a registered patent attorney with 17 years of experience in medical device IP. Derek has a business degree and a talent for raising money. Tell me, which of us do you think actually understands the technology well enough to draft claim language that covers 43 different embodiments and survived USPTO examination?”
Silence.
“The patents are mine,”
I repeated.
“The question is whether Metatech wants to continue licensing them. At what terms?”
“At what terms?”
asked Michael Brennan.
Another board member.
“Fifty percent equity in Metatech Solutions transferred to Torres Patent Holdings LLC. A seat on this board. And a personal apology from Mr. Torres delivered in writing acknowledging my contributions to this company.”
Derek laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You’re insane. I’m not giving you 50% of my company.”
“It’s not your company, Derek. It’s the investors’ company. And without my patents, it’s worth nothing.”
I looked at Margaret Chow.
“I believe you put in $45 million in the Series B round.”
Margaret’s expression was carefully neutral.
“That’s correct.”
“And that investment was based on a valuation model that assumed Metatech owned or had perpetual license to the dialysis pump patents.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m sure you can calculate what that investment is worth without patent rights.”
The number hung in the air.
Unspoken.
But understood.
Zero.
“This is extortion,”
Derek said.
“No,”
I replied.
“This is business. I own an asset. You want to use that asset. These are my terms.”
“The board needs to discuss this privately,”
Margaret said.
“Miss Torres, would you mind stepping out for a moment?”
I left the boardroom and waited in the hallway.
Through the glass walls, I could see Derek gesticulating.
His face red.
Sophia sat beside him.
Looking smaller than before.
Twenty minutes later, the general counsel opened the door.
“We’d like to make a counteroffer,”
he said.
I went back inside.
“Forty percent equity,”
Margaret said.
“Plus a board seat and a formal title. Chief IP officer with compensation commensurate with a C-level executive. Derek retains CEO position, but reports to the board.”
I considered this.
It was less than I’d asked for.
But it was more than I’d expected to get.
“And the apology in writing to be included in the settlement agreement,”
I said.
The general counsel confirmed.
I looked at Derek.
He was staring at the table.
His jaw clenched so tight I thought it might snap.
“Forty percent,”
I said slowly,
“is acceptable on one condition.”
“What condition?”
Margaret asked.
“Sophia Reeves is terminated effective immediately with cause. No severance package.”
Sophia’s head jerked up.
“What? You can’t—”
“I absolutely can. My acceptance of this agreement is contingent on her removal from the company. She’s a liability. An affair with the CEO. Inappropriate workplace relationship. Potential HR violations. I’m sure the lawyers can find sufficient cause.”
Derek started to stand.
But Margaret held up a hand.
“Mr. Torres, you need to decide right now whose side you’re on. Your girlfriend’s or this company’s.”
I watched something break in Derek’s face.
“Fine,”
he said finally.
“Sophia’s fired.”
Sophia turned to him.
Her mouth open.
“Derek—”
“I’m sorry,”
he said.
Not looking at her.
“But we don’t have a choice.”
I didn’t feel triumphant.
I felt tired.
We signed the settlement agreement that afternoon.
My signature next to Derek’s.
Making it official.
I was now the second largest shareholder in Metatech Solutions.
With full voting rights.
And a seat on the board.
The apology was added as an appendix.
Derek’s lawyer had clearly written it.
It was stilted and formal.
But it was there.
In black and white.
I acknowledge that Elena Torres made substantial contributions to Metatech Solutions’ intellectual property portfolio and regret not recognizing these contributions publicly.
It wasn’t enough.
But it was something.
That night, I took Emma out to dinner at her favorite sushi place.
“So, you’re rich now?”
she asked, attempting to use chopsticks.
“I’m equity rich,”
I corrected.
“Which means on paper, yes. But not until we sell the company or go public.”
“When will that be?”
“Two to five years, probably.”
Emma grinned.
“Cool. Can I get a car when I turn 16?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Worth a shot.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a while.
Then Emma said,
“Mom, are you happy?”
I thought about that.
Was I happy?
Derek and I were getting divorced.
I just torpedoed his relationship with his mistress.
I’d extorted my way onto his company’s board.
None of that seemed like happiness.
But I also had a job offer from Biomed Innovations.
I had a speaking engagement at the bar association.
I had my patents in my own name.
My equity stake.
My seat at the table.
I had my voice back.
“Yeah,”
I said.
“I think I am.”
Three months later, I accepted Sarah Patel’s offer at Biomed Innovations.
Six months later, Emma’s ceramic sculpture won first place in the youth division at the Morrison Gallery exhibition.
Derek didn’t show up to the opening.
He was busy with work.
But I was there.
So was Rachel.
So was my mother.
So were James Martinez and Sarah Patel and Margaret Chow, who’d become an unexpected ally.
One year later, Metatech Solutions went public.
My 40% stake was suddenly worth $387 million.
Derek sent me a single text.
I hope you’re satisfied.
I didn’t respond.
Instead, I established the Torres Foundation for Women in STEM.
With a $50 million endowment.
The first grant went to a scholarship program for women pursuing patent law.
The second went to a legal aid fund for women going through divorce.
Emma graduated high school with honors and a full scholarship to MIT.
She wanted to study biomedical engineering.
“Like Dad?”
I asked carefully.
“Like you,”
she corrected.
“I want to invent things and protect them. You showed me how.”
Two years after the board meeting, I ran into Sophia Reeves at a conference in San Francisco.
She was working for a small startup.
Looking tired.
And older than her years.
She saw me and turned to walk away.
But I called out to her.
“Sophia.”
She stopped.
Turned back reluctantly.
“I wanted to say—”
I paused.
Choosing my words carefully.
“I wanted to say that I’m sorry for how it ended.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Are you? Because from where I’m standing, you got everything you wanted.”
“Did I?”
I looked at her.
“I got my equity stake and my board seat. But I also lost 17 years of my life to a man who didn’t value me. That’s not winning. That’s just surviving.”
Sophia’s expression softened slightly.
“He told me you didn’t understand him. That you’d stopped caring about his dreams.”
“And you believed him.”
“I wanted to.”
She shook her head.
“I was an idiot. He’s already sleeping with the new VP of sales. Her name’s Britney. She’s 26.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.”
Sophia looked at me directly for the first time.
“For what it’s worth, I read about your foundation. The work you’re doing is impressive. More impressive than anything Derek ever did.”
It wasn’t forgiveness.
But it was understanding.
Which was almost better.
“Thank you,”
I said.
We parted ways.
And I didn’t see her again.
Five years after the board meeting, Derek Torres stepped down as CEO of Metatech Solutions.
The official press release cited personal reasons and a desire to pursue new ventures.
The reality, as I learned from Margaret Chow, was that the board had finally had enough of his erratic behavior.
His inability to retain talent.
And his habit of taking credit for other people’s work.
I didn’t attend his farewell party.
Instead, I was in my office at Biomed Innovations.
My corner office with the view of the city.
Reviewing patent applications for a new cardiac monitoring system.
A system that would, if approved, save thousands of lives.
My office walls were covered with patents.
Forty-three of them now.
All with my name.
Elena Torres.
Inventor.
Not Derek’s wife.
Not table 47.
Just Elena.
My assistant buzzed me.
“Miss Torres, you have a visitor.”
I looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway holding a bouquet of flowers.
“What’s this for?”
I asked.
“It’s the anniversary,”
she said.
“Five years ago today, you blew up Dad’s world. I figured that was worth celebrating.”
I laughed.
“You’re terrible.”
“I learned from the best.”
She set the flowers on my desk and hugged me.
“I’m proud of you, Mom. You know that, right?”
I hugged her back.
Blinking away unexpected tears.
“I’m proud of you too, baby.”
After she left, I stood at my window, looking out at the city.
Somewhere out there, Derek was probably still convinced he’d built that company alone.
Sophia was probably still working her way back up the corporate ladder.
The investors were probably already scouting their next big opportunity.
But here in my office, with my patents on the wall and my daughter’s flowers on my desk, I had something they didn’t.
I had my name back.
I had my work.
I had myself.
And that, I thought, looking at my reflection in the window, was worth more than any award.
Any company.
Any spotlight.
That was priceless.
