Chapter 5 - What The Blue Folder Held
My hands shook as I unlocked the suite door. Rebecca stood in the carpeted hallway alone. She had left her daughters safely at their hotel, accompanied by their faculty advisor. She walked into our extravagant suite without the slightest hesitation or intimidation, taking in the crystal chandeliers, the modern art, and the shattered glass near the fireplace with a calm, unimpressed glance.
""Charming decor,"" Rebecca murmured, pulling out a chair at the long marble dining table and sitting down.
Victoria walked over from the balcony, having reapplied her lipstick, adopting her most intimidating corporate posture. She threw an embossed leather checkbook onto the table.
""Let's not waste each other's time,"" Victoria said coldly, leaning both hands on the table. ""You brought your little circus to town to extract a payday. Name your price. Five million dollars. You take the money, take your daughters, relocate to the Midwest, and sign a lifetime NDA. You will also instruct the competition committee to list the prize as a joint tie with Madison, citing an algorithm scoring discrepancy.""
Rebecca didn't even glance at the checkbook. Instead, she let out a soft, pitying laugh that infuriated Victoria even further.
""You really believe money fixes every crack in your world, don't you, Victoria?"" Rebecca asked calmly.
""Don't lecture me, sweetie,"" Victoria hissed. ""You're a struggling single mother who just got lucky on a stage. You don't have the leverage to play moral games with me.""
""Actually,"" Rebecca said, untying the faded string around the thick blue folder, ""I have all the leverage. Because I am not here for your charity, Victoria. And I certainly didn't come for child support.""
Rebecca opened the folder. Inside were yellowed, hand-written notebooks, hundreds of pages of intricate mathematical equations, dated patent filings, and a notarized corporate charter from fourteen years ago.
""Look familiar, Nathaniel?"" Rebecca whispered, sliding the first ledger toward me.
I looked down at the handwriting. My heart stopped.
""This... this is the core neural architecture for the Brookfield OS,"" I stammered, my vision blurring as memories crashed down upon me. ""The predictive data processing code...""
""That is my code,"" Rebecca said, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. ""When we were married in Boston, you were struggling to build an engine that could predict market trends. You failed over and over. I spent eight months working every night while you slept, writing the base architecture, the dynamic routing algorithms, and the neural encryption keys.""
May you like
Victoria scoffed impatiently. ""So what? Any husband and wife share ideas! He took the company public under our capital! It's legally Brookfield property!""
""Is it?"" Rebecca reached into the folder and pulled out an original, blue-stamped document bearing the seal of the Massachusetts State Registry. ""Because on June 14th, fourteen years ago, Nathaniel registered our tiny startup under both our names as equal 50-50 intellectual property partners. And when he vanished into thin air to marry you, he forged my signature on the IP transfer agreement, transferring my fifty percent stake to his new corporate shell without my consent.""
