Corporate Heir Exposed for Sabotage After Humiliating Wife's Critical Patent Pitch — But Victory Came at a Steep Cost to Her Father's Legacy
Dr. Thorne turned his attention to me, his gaze stern. “Dr. Reed, the board is now prepared to hear your response to these serious allegations.”
Before I could even speak, Davies interjected smoothly. “If it pleases the board, we would like to call our first witness, Mr. Marcus Bell, to corroborate the technical findings outlined in our presentation.”
My breath hitched. Marcus Bell. The junior financial analyst. The unwitting accomplice Julian had manipulated. This was the moment I would see him, face-to-face, presenting the very lies Julian had instructed him to concoct.
A young man, barely out of his twenties, with a fresh, eager face and nervous eyes, walked into the room. Marcus Bell, looking uncomfortable in his oversized suit, took his place in the witness stand. He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, his gaze avoiding mine entirely.
Davies smiled genially at Marcus, a stark contrast to his earlier aggressive tone. “Mr. Bell, could you please state your name and position at Vance Industries for the record?”
“Marcus Bell,” he stammered, his voice a little shaky. “Junior Financial Analyst, AI Development Division.”
Davies led him through a series of questions, asking him to confirm the authenticity of the audit reports and system logs previously presented. Marcus, looking increasingly uncomfortable, confirmed each detail. He meticulously described the data entry process, the software he used, and the findings he’d allegedly uncovered.
“And during your work on Dr. Reed’s project,” Davies prompted, “did you encounter any anomalies or inconsistencies in the data?”
Marcus hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing quickly at Julian, who gave him a subtle, encouraging nod. It was a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but I caught it. Julian was still controlling the narrative, even from his seat.
“Yes, sir,” Marcus finally replied, his voice gaining a bit more confidence. “I did. The projections from Dr. Reed’s AI model, when cross-referenced with standard market indicators, showed… significant deviations. They were often quite volatile.”
He recounted the fabricated details with surprising conviction, almost as if he truly believed them. He was merely reading from a script, echoing the instructions Julian had given him. He presented the falsified reports and the tampered system logs as if they were his own honest findings, describing them with the technical precision of a diligent, if inexperienced, analyst.
“Could you specify the nature of these deviations, Mr. Bell?” Davies pressed, guiding him through the testimony.
Marcus launched into a detailed explanation, citing specific figures and dates that mirrored the email chain I had found. He pointed to charts on the screen, indicating areas where the AI’s predictions diverged sharply from expected market behavior, making it seem erratic and unreliable.
I watched him closely, my anger mixing with a strange sense of pity. He wasn’t a malicious actor. He was a pawn, an unwitting accomplice caught in Eleanor and Julian’s intricate web. He genuinely believed he was doing his job, uncovering real issues within my project, eager to please the senior management who had assigned him this “critical” task.
Eleanor, meanwhile, observed Marcus with a hawk-like intensity. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, ensuring that he stuck to the script, every detail precisely as Julian had instructed him. She had chosen him carefully: ambitious, inexperienced, and desperate for approval, the perfect tool for their sabotage.
“And the system logs you reviewed,” Davies continued, “did they show any unusual activity?”
“Yes,” Marcus confirmed, his eyes darting to the board members, seeking their validation. “There were multiple instances of system overrides, and data parameters being adjusted outside of standard protocol, originating from Dr. Reed’s administrative credentials.”
A knot tightened in my stomach. Julian had not only falsified the data; he had tampered with the logs to make it look like *I* was the one making the illicit changes. It was a precise, personal attack on my professional conduct. The petty cruelty of framing me directly for his own actions burned.
Dr. Thorne leaned forward. “Mr. Bell, are you confident in the accuracy of these findings?”
Marcus straightened his shoulders, taking a deep breath. “Yes, Dr. Thorne. I cross-referenced the data, ran multiple simulations. The discrepancies were consistent. My findings are accurate.”
He finished his testimony, looking relieved but still visibly shaken. He was dismissed from the stand, and he practically fled the room, avoiding eye contact with anyone, especially me. He had fulfilled his role, unknowingly cementing the lies that threatened to dismantle my career.
My father, Arthur, watched Marcus’s testimony with a piercing intensity. His gaze followed Marcus as he left the room, a subtle frown etching itself between his brows. He was observing, processing, connecting the pieces. He was too astute not to notice the young man’s discomfort, the practiced nature of his answers.
I felt a surge of frustration. How could they be so easily fooled? How could Marcus be so blind to the malicious conspiracy he was a part of? It wasn’t just my patent they were trying to steal; it was my entire professional reputation they were attempting to assassinate through the words of an unwitting, naive junior analyst. The weight of the injustice pressed down on me, urging me to find a way to expose the truth.
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