“He will not go quietly,” I said.

“Our legal team is already preparing a restraining order,” Arthur said. “He has no leverage.”

“He has my duplicate research files,” I said. “The old drafts from the home computer.”

“They are obsolete,” Arthur said, waving his hand dismissively.

“He knows the core formula, Dad,” I said.

Arthur walked toward the exit, his leather shoes clicking on the linoleum.

“Let him try to sell it,” Arthur said. “No reputable firm will touch him after today.”

My phone vibrated again in my hand, a sharp, double buzz.

I looked down at the screen.

It was an email from an encrypted address.

The subject line read: *The Real Hayes Legacy.*

I tapped the screen with a trembling thumb.

The email contained a PDF attachment.

I opened it and scrolled through the first page.

It was a copy of my biochemical synthesis, but the molecular structures had been altered.

The safety parameters I had spent three years perfecting were gone.

In their place were highly toxic chemical precursors that would cause organ failure in clinical trials.