Apparently, now that the main company had collapsed, Nathan was trying to turn the shell into a real brand, offering streamlined branding and international fulfillment solutions. According to their new website, which featured stock images of smiling people in headsets and warehouses I knew for a fact didn’t exist. Samir wasn’t impressed. I looked at their materials, he said, and I thought, “This feels like a high schooler’s pitch.” I laughed.
That’s because it is. He paused. Wait, is this your Nathan? Unfortunately, so should I run?
Run fast, I said. And tell me if he contacts anyone else you know. From there, the pieces started falling into place. Nathan was desperate.
He had burned every bridge, lost all credibility, and was now trying to rebuild a brand off borrowed words and stolen graphics. But more importantly, he was still using the Taylor name, still trying to ride on the illusion of a legacy he helped destroy. That’s when the idea started to crystallize. I wasn’t going to destroy him by exposing him publicly.
No, I was going to strip him of his name. I contacted an old legal acquaintance, Terra, an IP specialist, and laid everything out. Every misused company trademark, every shady rebrand, every stolen photo, fake warehouse claim, and false endorsement quote on their site. You have a case, she said, eyes gleaming.
Multiple actually, and if we move fast, we can file ca sandists before they even get their first client. But I didn’t want to just shut him down. I wanted him to see my face when it happened. So, I waited for the right moment.
It came when Sandra, the queen herself, decided to host a fundraiser gala for some nonsense charity she sat on the board for. It was her way of pretending their family still had prestige. The kind of event where people wore designer sunglasses inside. Claudia, my investor, got me an invitation.
Apparently, she had been on the mailing list for years. You’ll want to see this one, she said. Trust me. The night of the event, I arrived alone.
Black suit, no tie, comb. Nathan was already there, working the room. I could see him laughing too loud, gesturing like a man with no actual stories to tell. Dad stood nearby, clearly tired, clearly older.
And Sandra, oh, Sandra, was glowing like she’d just won an Oscar. I didn’t say anything at first. I let them see me. Let Nathan’s face freeze.
Let Sandra’s smile twitch. Let dad’s eyes go wide. Then I walked straight past them and joined Claudia at a VIP table near the stage. The program began.
Speeches, applause, pledges. Then halfway through, they announced the featured sponsor for the evening, Taylor Strategic Solutions. Nathan stood up to mild, confused clapping. He walked up to the stage, started thanking the crowd, blathering about entrepreneurship and rebuilding.
When I leaned toward Claudia, she handed me a small envelope. Inside were the legal notices, cease and desist orders, trademark violation filings and the full audit Terra had compiled. I stood up, walked quietly to the side of the stage, and handed them to him. He froze mid-sentence, read the top page, and I watched his face crack.
He stammered, tried to keep speaking, but the room shifted. People murmured. Sandra stood up, hissing something under her breath. Dad just sat there frozen.