She didn’t offer coffee or engage in casual conversation.
She pushed a thick folder across her glass desk.
Inside was a preliminary patent application filed only hours earlier.
The application claimed ownership of a machine-learning framework.
Vera pointed toward the technical exhibits.
They contained fragmented pieces of code and structural diagrams.
It was a crude collection, but it perfectly reflected the underlying architecture of my algorithm.
“This is a preemptive attack,” Vera said sharply. “They used an outside law firm to submit it. The application is poorly assembled, but it creates a documented ownership dispute.”
I reviewed the pages and recognized my own variable names and programming logic.
“How much damage can this cause?”
Vera folded her hands.
She explained the situation without softening it.
“Your central artificial-intelligence algorithm has an independent valuation of $37.5 million. A pending ownership dispute will immediately freeze the product launch.”
She continued.
“It will frighten investors and could force you into years of litigation.”
A cold knot formed inside my stomach.
“Who filed it?”
Vera opened another folder.
She had spent the weekend investigating the corporation behind the patent filing.
It was the same shell company Kurt had discovered.
SC Group.
Vera traced the registration through two holding companies in Delaware.
She obtained the documents identifying the ultimate beneficiary and handed me the final page.
Printed in black ink was the name of the primary shareholder.
Colin.
My half-brother.
The mystery disappeared instantly.
SC Group stood for Shirley and Colin.
My own family had installed six cameras inside my home to steal my life’s work.
I left Vera’s office and walked toward my car.
Once inside, I called my father, Ronald.
I wanted him to intervene before I began legal action against his wife and son.
Ronald answered on the second ring.
I kept my voice strictly professional.
I explained the patent filing, the shell company, and the stolen code.
For the first two minutes, Ronald listened calmly.
He asked reasonable questions about the timeline.
He promised to review the documents and insisted Colin would never intentionally do something like that.
Then I heard a sharp rustling through the speaker.
Shirley had taken the phone from his hand.
“Autumn, you need to stop this immediately,” she said.
Her voice carried carefully manufactured panic, perfectly designed for my father to hear.
“You’re exhausted and imagining things.”
“Give my father the phone.”
Shirley ignored me.