“Is that the last time we’ll ever see him, Mom?” Sophia asked, playing with the silver zipper of her jacket.
“I think so, sweetheart,” I replied, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “Some people aren’t meant to be part of our story. They’re just chapters we leave behind.”
Back in Austin, my phone began vibrating incessantly. It wasn’t Marcus—he was too paralyzed by shock to function. It was my chief legal counsel, Arthur Vance.
“Elena,” Arthur’s voice boomed through the speakerphone as soon as I answered. “How did the confrontation go? Did the Reynolds family get the shock of a lifetime?”
“Let’s just say Sarah threw her engagement ring into a pile of broken wine glasses, and Marcus is currently having an existential crisis on his mother’s floor,” I laughed, looking out at the glittering Austin skyline as the helicopter touched down on our private rooftop helipad.
“Brilliant,” Arthur chuckled. “Because the timing couldn’t be better. While you were in Boulder dropping that bombshell, our acquisition of Reynolds Tech’s primary competitor went through. As of ten minutes ago, your holding company owns the patent portfolio Marcus spent the last five years building.”
A slow, triumphant smile spread across my face.
When Marcus had abandoned me, he had stolen my early design drafts—the foundational software algorithms for automated logistics that we had co-developed in our college apartment. He used my intellectual property to launch Reynolds Tech and brand himself as a tech prodigy. He thought he had erased my contribution forever.
He didn’t know that I had legally patented the core architecture under a separate corporate entity the day after he filed for divorce, quietly waiting for the right moment to squeeze his company out of the market.
“Did he find out about the acquisition yet?” I asked, stepping out of the helicopter into the crisp Texas air, the children running ahead toward the penthouse elevator.
“Not yet,” Arthur replied. “The press release goes out tomorrow morning. By noon, Reynolds Tech stock will plummet, and their board will be looking for someone to blame. Marcus is about to lose everything—his company, his social standing, and his fortune.”
“Good,” I whispered. “Merry Christmas, Marcus.”
