Chapter 2

The medical bills started arriving almost immediately, each one a stark white reminder of Jess' s threat.

Grandpa Joe was stable but unconscious, the doctors cautious about his prognosis.

I tried to reason with Jess again, at our large, empty house that suddenly felt alien.

"He practically saved your life once, Jess, remember? That thresher incident when you were just starting out with Dad? Grandpa Joe pulled you clear."

She was examining her nails, a picture of disinterest.

"That was a long time ago, Mike. Business is different now."

"This isn't business, Jess, this is family. This is morality."

"Morality doesn't pay for cutting-edge medical treatments," she countered, her voice devoid of warmth. "And it certainly doesn't protect a billion-dollar company's reputation from a reckless intern's mistake, or a husband's emotional outburst."

She walked to the mantelpiece, picked up a framed photo of me and Grandpa Joe at my college graduation, his arm around my shoulder, both of us beaming.

"He looks so frail now," she mused, then her eyes hardened. "You need to make a public statement, Mike. Say it was a simple mishap, Grandpa Joe wasn't paying attention, something."

"Lie? You want me to lie to protect Ethan and your company?"

"I want you to be pragmatic," she said, her voice rising. "If this blows up, it's on you. Any negative outcome, any delay in his care because funds are... complicated, that will be your fault."

Her hand tightened on the photo frame.

Then, with a sudden, violent movement, she smashed it against the stone hearth.

Glass shattered, the sound echoing the breaking of something inside me.

"Don't be a fool, Mike," she seethed, shards at her feet.

I called my closest friends, Dave and Sarah, hoping for support, a loan, anything.

They were sympathetic, but hesitant.

"Mike, Jess is... powerful around here," Dave said, his voice apologetic. "Miller Farms has a long reach. We have kids, a mortgage."

The message was clear, no one wanted to cross Jess. I was alone.

Just as the financial vise tightened, a letter arrived from a law firm I didn' t recognize.

"Mr. Michael Davis," it began, "We represent the estate of Joseph Davis regarding certain intellectual property."

I met with a lawyer, Ms. Albright, a sharp, no-nonsense woman.

She explained that Grandpa Joe' s foundational agricultural IP, the unique heirloom seed patents and cultivation techniques that Miller Farms had licensed, had an exclusivity period.

That period had just expired.

"Furthermore," Ms. Albright continued, laying a thick document on the table, "years ago, before your marriage to Ms. Miller, your grandfather legally transferred full ownership of this IP directly to you. It' s a pre-marital asset, Mike. She has no claim to it, and Miller Farms no longer has exclusive rights."

The room seemed to tilt. Unbeknownst to Jess, I owned the very core of her company' s success.