Chapter 10
I knew that much.
Samuel continued.
“Jason believed that if the company appeared dependent on an inventor who was recovering from a serious accident, no institutional investor would touch it.”
“And you agreed.”
“I agreed temporarily.”
There it was again.
Temporarily.
The word that had rearranged my life.
“Thomas did not. He insisted your rights be preserved. I told him I would preserve them.”
“But you didn't.”
“I preserved the evidence.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
Samuel took a breath.
“Six months later, Jason came to me. The first production run had succeeded. A hospital network had signed a pilot contract. He told me he was ready to restructure the ownership.”
My hands went still.
“He was?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't he?”
Samuel looked directly at me.
“Because you told him not to.”
I thought I'd misheard.
“What?”
Samuel reached into his briefcase and removed a photocopied letter.
It was written in my handwriting.
Dated nine years and seven months earlier.
I recognized the paper.
Hospital stationery.
The first line read:
Jason, please stop talking about shares, patents, and paperwork. I cannot think about the company right now.
I read further.
If you believe you can keep it alive, do whatever you need to do.
At the bottom:
I trust you.
My stomach dropped.
“I wrote this.”
“Yes.”
“But this isn't an assignment.”
“No.”
“It isn't permission to take ownership.”
“No.”
“Then why are you showing it to me?”
“Because Jason showed it to me.”
The answer settled painfully into place.
Samuel continued.
“He said you had made your wishes clear. I told him it wasn't legally sufficient. He said he would deal with the legal documents when you were stronger.”
I looked down at the letter.
I remembered writing it.
I had been sitting beside a hospital window during physical therapy.
Jason had spent twenty minutes talking about investor meetings while I was trying to move my left shoulder without pain.
I had become frustrated.
I wanted the company conversation to disappear.
So I wrote a letter telling him to handle it.
Not forever.
Not ownership.
Not my identity.
Just the next day.
Maybe the next month.
Samuel said quietly, “I should have spoken to you personally.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid of interfering in a marriage.”
“So instead you interfered in a company.”
“I suppose I did.”
Daniel spoke.
“What changed after that?”
Samuel's face hardened slightly.
“Success.”