Chapter 20
It was a proposed settlement.
I didn't touch it.
“Tell me first.”
He nodded.
“You receive recognition as co-founder.”
My throat tightened.
“Publicly?”
“Yes.”
“Not as part of a confidential agreement?”
“Publicly.”
He continued.
“All patent records capable of correction will be corrected. Where legal correction isn't possible, the company will issue formal attribution in the corporate history and technical records.”
“What about equity?”
“Thirty-five percent of my current personal holdings transferred to you.”
I looked at him.
“That isn't half.”
“No.”
“At least you're learning not to pretend.”
He smiled briefly.
“I also retain responsibility for the investor capital I raised and the dilution that followed. Your attorneys can argue for more.”
“They will.”
“They should.”
He pushed another page toward me.
“You'll receive a board seat if you want it.”
“No.”
That surprised him.
“I don't want one.”
“You always wanted more authority.”
“I wanted authority when I still believed this company was where my life had to happen.”
Jason stared at me.
“What do you want now?”
It was astonishing how rarely anyone had asked me that question.
My father wanted me protected.
My mother wanted me safe.
Jason wanted me beside him until he didn't.
Investors wanted my ideas.
Attorneys wanted facts.
Everyone had spent months arguing about what I deserved.
Very few had asked what I wanted.
“I want the research division separated from my name.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“ARIA. The original patents. My future work. I want the freedom to build something else without Mitchell Medical claiming automatic rights.”
He leaned back.
“That could be valuable.”
“I know.”
“You could start a competitor.”
“I could.”
“Will you?”
“I don't know.”
He considered this.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
That was the moment I knew our marriage was truly ending.
Not when I learned about Madison.
Not when I moved out.
Not when divorce papers arrived.
It ended when Jason finally let me choose a future he couldn't supervise.
We talked for nearly three hours.
Not everything was resolved.
Our attorneys argued over valuations for another six weeks.
Accountants recalculated ownership percentages.
The court approved structures protecting the patient-assistance fund.
The mansion was sold rather than awarded to either of us.
I kept my mother's old piano.
Jason kept the vintage car I had always hated driving.
I received a substantial settlement.
Not everything.
Not nothing.
Something fair enough that neither of us could pretend we had won.