He cast a look toward it but made no move. “And you’re sharing this with me because...?”
“Because Arthur is presenting Axiom’s offer to the board on Thursday afternoon. If they accept, Axiom gets control, and our technology disappears into QuantumTech’s vault. Millions of diabetics lose access to a system that could transform their care.” I leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “And you lose the opportunity to get in on what will be the most significant advance in diabetes management in decades.”
Ashley studied me for a long moment, his expression calculating. Then he sighed.
“Theresa, your pitch is great. The technology is impressive. But thirty million is a lot to risk on a company in this much turmoil. I need to see proof of stability... at least over a year.”
The words crashed into me. He was buying time. The board would convene in two days. A year? I barely had forty-eight hours left before everything burned to the ground.
“Mr. Ashley?—”
He held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Theresa. The timing just isn’t right. Come back to me once things have settled, and we can revisit.”
I knew a dismissal when I heard one. My last hope evaporated like morning dew under a merciless sun. I stood, gathering my materials with hands that felt numb.
“Thank you for your time,” I said, my voice hollow even to my own ears.
Ashley rose as well, extending his hand. “I truly am sorry about Marco. He was a visionary.”
I shook his hand automatically, turned to leave, but halfway to the door I stopped, struck by a sudden, dangerous impulse. This was my last shot. If it failed, I’d be in no worse position than I was now.
I turned back to face Ashley, who had already settled behind his desk again, attention returning to his computer screen.
“Leonard,” I said, my voice steady despite the thundering of my heart. “Just one question. IfIhad been the one who died in that avalanche, and Marco was standing here right now... would your answer be the same?”
Ashley’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a simple question.” I took a step back toward his desk. “If Marco were here instead of me, would you be telling him to wait a year?”
A flush crept up Ashley’s neck. “That’s not?—”
“We both know my contribution to this tech was at least half,” I continued, the words tumbling out now, driven by months of frustration and grief and rage. “We both knowIwas the one who answered your technical questions in Aspen. I was the one who laid out the regulatory strategy that convinced you this wasn’t just a pipe dream.”
Ashley’s face hardened, the flush deepening. “Mrs. Carideo?—”
“But you’re tellingmeto wait a year.” I met his gaze steadily. “I’m asking you to consider whether you’d be saying the same thing to my husband if our positions were reversed.”
Ashley’s jaw tightened. He glanced pointedly at his watch. “Thank you for coming, Theresa.”
The dismissal was crystal clear. I’d blown it. I’d insulted him, questioned his motives, and now I’d lost any chance of securing his investment.
“Good luck with your board meeting,” Ashley added, his tone making it clear he considered the conversation over.
The drive back to San Jose disappeared in a haze of dead-end math. I’d bet my entire future on Ashley and crashed spectacularly. The board would vote in two days, and without something to counter Arthur’s offer, they’d take his deal without blinking.
Sure, I had proof Arthur was corrupt to his core, but I’d come upon it illegally. Completely useless in a courtroom, and potentially suicidal in a boardroom.
Game over.
As I drove home, I thought of Patrick, of how he’d risked so much to help me fight this battle. I’d have to tell him I’d failed.That his cousin’s illegal intel, his support, his faith in me—none of it had been enough.
I pulled into my driveway just as a pizza delivery car was leaving. Inside, Rome and Paris were arguing over the breadsticks, Austin was setting the table, and Aspen was finger-painting with what looked like marinara sauce. Michael stood in the middle of it all, a human buffer zone preventing total anarchy.
“Mommy!” Paris abandoned the breadstick dispute to launch herself at my legs.
I knelt to hug her, breathing in the sweet-sweaty scent of her hair, feeling the solid warmth of her little body against mine. This was real. This mattered. Whatever happened with the company, I still had this—my family.
“How’d it go?” Michael asked as I moved to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine.
