Chapter 4 - The Scavengers Scatter**
By late afternoon, the panic inside the executive suite of Apex Biotech had escalated from a corporate crisis into a full-scale psychological breakdown.
The news of the patent reversion had leaked to the tech blogs within hours. By 2:00 PM, tech news outlets and financial forums were already running breaking headlines: Apex Biotech Collapse: Star Founder Stripped of Core IP After Stunning Legal Coup. Venture capital firms were pulling out their funding pledges faster than financial analysts could refresh their terminals, and the board of directors had scheduled an emergency vote to strip Tristan of his CEO title by sunset.
I was sitting in my private research office down the hall, quietly packing my personal belongings into a cardboard box—my centrifuge calibration logs, my favorite fountain pen, and a framed photograph of my late mother—when the door flew open with a violent crash.
It was Tristan.
He looked like a man who had aged ten years in a single morning. His expensive Tom Ford suit was rumpled, his collar was unbuttoned, his tie was missing, and his hair was wildly disheveled from running his hands through it in panic. His eyes were bloodshot, wide, and frantic.
“Zoe,” he gasped, stumbling into the room and locking the door behind him. He rushed forward, dropping heavily to his knees right beside my desk, grabbing the edge of the cardboard box with trembling hands. “Zoe, please. You have to listen to me. You have to fix this.”
I didn't stop packing. I carefully placed a stack of research notebooks into the box and looked down at him with an expression of profound, chilling indifference.
“Fix what, Tristan?” I asked quietly.
“The patents!” he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. “Call Marcus off! Tell the board it was a misunderstanding, a lovers' quarrel! We can rewrite the contracts, we can postpone the wedding until you calm down—hell, we can elope to Cabo next week! Just sign the IP transfer back over to Apex. If David Sterling pulls our funding, the company goes into immediate liquidation. I’ll lose everything, Zoe! My shares are worth zero without your sequence!”
I looked down at the man who had spent seven years using my brilliance as a stepping stool while plotting to humiliate me with his secretary.
“Your shares are worth zero, Tristan,” I said evenly. “Because you never actually built anything. You just put your name on my work and expected me to stay quiet while you played the golden boy.”
“It was just a fling!” he shouted, the mask of charm completely shattering, revealing the panicked, selfish coward underneath. “Tessa meant nothing! She was just a distraction, a stupid mistake! You’re my partner, Zoe! We’re supposed to get married! How can you throw seven years away over a minor indiscretion?”
At the mention of Tessa, the office door pushed open again.
Tessa Jenkins stood in the doorway, looking pale, small, and terrified. She had heard every word. She was holding a cardboard box of her own containing a few desk trinkets and a cheap coffee mug.
“Tristan?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Is it true? Did you lose the company? The... the penthouse lease is in your name. If the company goes under, where are we going to live?”
Tristan snapped his head around, his face contorting into a mask of pure, venomous hatred. He stood up from his knees and glared at the young woman he had spent months treating like a delicate princess.
“Shut up!” he roared, pointing a shaking finger at her. “This is all your fault! If you hadn't posted those stupid photos, if you hadn't pushed me to leave the party early, if you weren't such a needy, useless parasite, none of this would have happened!”
Tessa recoiled as if she had been physically struck, tears springing to her eyes. “You said you loved me! You said you were going to leave her and give me all your devotion!”
“I lied!” Tristan screamed, his voice echoing off the concrete walls of the lab. “I used you, you stupid little girl! I needed someone who would stroke my ego while Zoe was busy working! Now get out of my sight before I throw you out of this building myself!”
Tessa let out a choked sob, dropped her cardboard box, and bolted down the hallway, leaving her belongings scattered across the linoleum floor.
I watched the scene unfold with quiet detachment, picked up my box of personal research files, and walked past Tristan without breaking stride.
May you like
“The locks to the penthouse have already been changed, Tristan,” I murmured as I brushed past his shoulder. “You’ll find your clothes in garbage bags downstairs. Don't bother calling my lawyer. He’ll be in touch with the bankruptcy trustees on Monday.”
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