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?

There was a pause. “That would depend on the terms of the licensing agreement. Why do you—Elena, what’s going on?”

“Just hypothetically.” Another pause, longer this time.

“If the patent holder wanted to revoke a perpetual license with a notice provision, and if they had grounds for breach, thirty days’ notice would be standard. But Elena, that kind of move would destroy the company’s ability to operate.” James said.

“I know,” I finished.

“Jesus, you’re talking about Metatech, aren’t you?” I didn’t answer.

“Elena,” James said carefully, “I know Derek. If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, you need to be absolutely sure. This isn’t just business. This is nuclear.”

“I need to go,” I said, “I’ll call you Monday.” I ended the call before he could respond.

My phone buzzed again: Elena, where the hell are you? I turned it to silent and walked back into the ballroom.

The ceremony was wrapping up. Derek was at a table surrounded by investors, Sophia at his elbow, laughing at something someone said.

When he saw me approaching, his expression shifted, annoyance quickly masked. “There you are.” He stood, putting his arm around my waist in a gesture that looked affectionate but felt like a grip.

“Elena was just freshening up, honey. This is Marcus Chen from Harbinger Ventures, and you remember Sandra Lou from our Series B round.” Derek said.

I smiled at them; they smiled back. Everyone was smiling.

“Your husband is going to change the world,” Marcus said enthusiastically. “The portable dialysis pump is revolutionary. We’re looking at a two billion dollar valuation by Q3.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said.

“Elena’s been so supportive,” Derek said, squeezing my waist tighter, “Taking care of Emma while I’ve been working such long hours. I couldn’t have done this without her holding down the fort at home.”

Sophia leaned in. “Derek tells me Emma’s in such a great pottery class now. How old is she—twelve, fourteen?”

“Fourteen,” I corrected, “And it’s ceramics, not pottery. She’s actually quite talented; her piece was selected for the youth exhibition at the Morrison Gallery.”

“How sweet,” Sophia said, in a tone that suggested it wasn’t sweet at all.

Derek’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then back at the investors.

“Elena, why don’t you head home? I know you’re tired, and I’ll be here for a few more hours doing the networking circuit. I’ll catch a ride with—” He paused just briefly, “—with Richard from the board.”

“Actually, I’ll stay,” I said, “I’d love to hear more about the Series C projections.”

Something flickered across Derek’s face—surprise, maybe, or irritation. “Honey, it’s going to be boring technical talk.”

“I’m a patent attorney with a specialty in medical devices,” I said pleasantly, “I think I can keep up.”

Marcus Chen laughed. “She’s got you there, Derek. And honestly, it would be great to get her perspective. The due diligence team has questions about some of the patent coverage in the Asian markets.”

I watched Derek’s jaw tighten slightly. “Of course. Elena loves talking about her work, don’t you, honey?”

We stayed for another hour. I answered every question the investors asked, watching Derek’s expression grow tighter with each answer.

When Marcus Chen asked about the continuation applications and I explained the claims architecture in detail, I saw Sophia’s smile finally slip. At eleven-thirty, Derek announced we were leaving.

A Connection of Visions

We didn’t speak in the car. He drove too fast, his hands tight on the steering wheel of his Tesla Model S, the one he’d bought with the Series B funding while I was still driving my ten-year-old Honda.

“What the hell was that?” He finally said as we pulled into our driveway.

“What was what?” I asked.

“That performance back there—showing off for the investors, answering questions like you’re some kind of expert.” Derek snapped.

I stared at him. “Derek, I am an expert. I wrote every single patent that company is built on.”

“You wrote what I told you to write!” He snapped. “You think filing paperwork makes you an inventor? I created that technology. You just handled the legal bureaucracy.”

We sat in the dark garage, the overhead light clicking off on its timer. “Did you sleep with her?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer, which was an answer itself. “How long, Elena?”

“How long, Derek?” He exhaled slowly. “It’s not what you think.”

“So that’s a yes.” I replied.

“It’s complicated. Sophia and I, we have a connection. We understand each other’s vision for the company. You’ve been so focused on Emma and your hobbies—” Derek said.

“My hobbies?” The word came out sharper than I intended. “You mean my legal career that’s been on hold for twelve years because someone needed to actually raise our daughter while you were working late with your VP of sales?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Derek said. “How long, Derek?” Silence.

“Two years,” He finally said, “Since we hired her.” Two years. The number sat between us like a stone.

The Termination Notice

I got out of the car without another word. I walked into the house, past the kitchen where I’d spent countless nights reviewing patent applications while heating up Emma’s dinner.

I walked past the living room where I’d celebrated when the USPTO granted our first patent. I went to my office, the converted guest room that Derek always complained made the house look cluttered when investors visited.

I pulled out my laptop and opened the licensing agreement between Torres Patent Holdings LLC and Metatech Solutions. Section 8.3: Termination Provisions.

“Licenser may terminate this agreement with thirty days written notice in the event of: A) Material breach by licensee. B) Change in licenser’s business circumstances. Or C) Licenser’s determination that continuation of license is no longer in licenser’s best interests.”

I’d written that clause myself seven years ago. Derek had signed it without reading it.

I opened a new document and began typing. “To whom it may concern: This letter serves as formal notice of termination of the patent licensing agreement dated the 15th of March 2018 between Torres Patent Holdings LLC, licenser, and Metatech Solutions Incorporated, licensee.”

“Pursuant to Section 8.3 C of said agreement, licenser hereby terminates all licensing rights effective thirty days from the date of this notice.” I paused, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Thirty days. In thirty days, Metatech Solutions wouldn’t be able to manufacture a single dialysis pump.

The investors would pull out. The company would collapse.

Derek’s award tonight would become a punchline. I thought about Sophia’s smile.