My Ceo Husband Sat Me At Table 47 While He Thanked His Mistress For “His” Success. He Didn’t Realize I Own Every Single One Of His Company’s Patents. Who Is The “Housewife” Now?
The View from Table 47
The lights were blinding. I’d forgotten how bright stage lights could be, or maybe I’d just never noticed before because I’d never been this close to the front row at the National Innovation Awards.
My husband Derek was on stage accepting the Medical Technology Pioneer Award. The trophy gleamed in his hands as he smiled at the camera, that practiced smile I’d watched him perfect in our bathroom mirror for the past three weeks.
“I want to thank my incredible team at Metatech Solutions,” he said, his voice carrying across the ballroom, “to my brilliant VP of sales Sophia Reeves who believed in this vision from day one.”
I watched Sophia stand from her seat three tables away. Her dark hair cascaded over her burgundy dress as she placed a hand over her heart, mouthing thank you with tears in her eyes.
My own table was in the back, Table 47. I checked my place card twice when I arrived.
“To my investors, my board members, my mentors,” Derek continued. He paused, scanning the crowd, his eyes passing over me without stopping.
“And to everyone who said a portable dialysis device was impossible, thank you for the motivation.” The applause was thunderous.
I clapped too, automatically, even as something cold settled in my chest. Seventeen years; I’d spent seventeen years as a patent attorney, and twelve of those years I’d worked exclusively on Derek’s patents.
I’d filed the provisional application for the portable dialysis pump from our kitchen table while pregnant with Emma. I’d argued the continuation case while recovering from a C-section, laptop balanced on my hospital bed.
I’d secured the international patents that made this company worth $340 million. My name was on every single patent: Elena Torres, patent attorney of record.
But tonight, I was just the woman at Table 47. I turned to find Patricia Morrison, a colleague from my old firm, looking at me with concern.
“Elena, you okay, honey?” Patricia asked. We’d been seated together along with some junior associates from the medical law division.
“I’m fine,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I was.
“That was a beautiful speech,” Patricia said carefully. She’d always been perceptive, though.
“I noticed he forgot to thank his wife.” A voice cut in from behind me. I turned to see a young woman in a server’s uniform holding a champagne tray, her name tag reading Jess.
She wasn’t even trying to be subtle. “Yeah, everyone at the service station noticed that too. We were taking bets on whether you’d walk out,” Jess said.
Patricia looked scandalized, but Jess just shrugged. “My ex did that too—gave a whole graduation speech thanking everyone but me; meanwhile, I’d worked two jobs to pay his tuition.”
Jess lowered her voice. “Watch out for the brunette in burgundy. She’s been hanging all over him backstage; saw them in the green room earlier and it wasn’t professional.”
Something in my stomach twisted. “The VP of sales, if that’s what we’re calling her,” Jess gave me a pointed look before moving away with her tray.
“Elena, you don’t have to—” Patricia touched my arm. “Excuse me,” I said, standing abruptly, “I need some air.”
A Pretty Little Hobby
I made it to the hallway before my hands started shaking. The corridor was quieter, lined with promotional posters for the various award nominees.
I stopped in front of one: Metatech Solutions campaign photo. Derek stood in the center, arms crossed, confident smile.
Behind him, the team was arranged in a pyramid, Sophia Reeves prominently placed to his right. The CFO, the head of R&D, the director of operations; I wasn’t in the photo.
Nobody had even asked me to be in it. I spun around to find Sophia Reeves standing three feet away, holding two glasses of champagne.
“Looking for the ladies’ room?” Sophia asked. Up close, she was younger than I’d thought—maybe thirty-two, thirty-three.
Her smile was perfectly pleasant, perfectly poisonous. “No. I—”
“You’re Elena, right? Derek’s wife?” Sophia didn’t wait for my answer. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Derek talks about you all the time.”
That was the first lie. I could tell by the way her eyes didn’t crinkle when she smiled.
“Though he did mention, ‘You’ve been so busy with your own work lately.'” Sophia continued, taking a sip from one of the glasses.
The other, I noticed, had lipstick on the rim—Derek’s shade of preference. He’d always liked when I wore red.
“It’s wonderful that you could make it tonight. I know these events can be so boring when you don’t really understand the technical side of things.” The second lie, or maybe it was the third; I’d lost count.
“I’m a patent attorney,” I said quietly, “I secured all seventeen patents for the portable dialysis system, including the continuation-in-part that covers the fluid filtration mechanism Derek just won this award for.”
Sophia’s smile didn’t falter, but something shifted in her eyes. “Oh, how sweet,” she said.
“Derek mentioned, ‘You used to work in patent law before Emma was born. It’s so important for mothers to have hobbies.'” Sophia continued.
Used to work? Hobbies? I’d filed the most recent patent three months ago.
I’d worked through the night to meet the filing deadline while Derek was in Tokyo for a business conference. I was suddenly realizing that probably wasn’t entirely about business.
“Well, I should get back,” Sophia said, already turning, “Derek will be wondering where I went.”
“We have a lot of investors to smooch tonight; you know how it is. Or well, you probably don’t, but it’s quite exhausting.” She paused, looking back over her shoulder.
“Oh, and Elena, that’s such a pretty dress—very practical, perfect for a mom.” She walked away before I could respond, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
The Nuclear Option
I stood there for a long moment, something hot and sharp building in my chest. Then, I pulled out my phone.
The first search was simple: Metatech Solutions ownership structure. It took me less than three minutes to pull up the corporate filings.
There it was, buried in the documents I’d filed myself seven years ago: Torres Patent Holdings LLC, sixty-two percent ownership of all IP assets.
I’d set up the holding company seven years ago, right after Emma was born. Derek had been too busy with fundraising to pay attention to the paperwork.
He’d signed everything I put in front of him, trusting that I was handling the boring legal stuff. The IP holding company owned the patents.
The patents were worth, conservatively, $180 million in licensing value alone. Without them, Metatech Solutions couldn’t manufacture a single device.
My phone buzzed; a text from Derek: Where are you? Investors want to meet you. I stared at the message.
Then, I opened my contacts and scrolled to a name I hadn’t called in six months: James Martinez. He was my former senior partner at Morrison and Martinez LLP.
He answered on the second ring. “Elena, this is a surprise,” James said.
“James, I need to ask you something hypothetical,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady, “If someone wanted to revoke a licensing agreement for patent usage, how quickly could that be done?”
