My father watched them, his expression completely blank, as if he were observing a stranger’s family argument.

“Arthur, help me,” Helen said, looking back at her husband.

My father shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Derek, your mother has gone to a lot of trouble,” my father said, his voice flat.

“The partners at Vanguard are old friends of mine.”

“It would be a mistake to blow this off.”

I looked at Derek, seeing the conflict written in the lines around his eyes.

He looked at the prototype behind him, the small green indicator lights blinking in a steady, rhythmic sequence.

Then he looked at the board members, who were now watching him with quiet interest.

I could see the realization hitting him.

He was seeing the actual scale of what we were building here, the physical reality of the technology.

He looked at my face, and for the first time in years, I saw a flicker of genuine respect in his eyes.

It was a quiet, sudden acknowledgment of what I had spent my entire life working toward.

“No,” Derek said.