Page 90 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

I didn’t get a chance to ask him as the other board members entered, each one of them surprised to see me. Every raised eyebrow was a dagger to my heart. Had I really been that disengaged? I vowed to dedicate myself to leadership at every opportunity, especially at future board meetings—if I got the chance.

“Good morning, everyone.” Dr. Perrell glided into the room, modeling a confidence I’d never feel. She took a few minutes to greet each board member with a warm smile and a hearty handshake. I wished I’d done that instead of hunching in my chair, sweating.

The secretary called us to order and took us through a few housekeeping items before turning to me. “Next on the agenda is an update on research and development.”

For a few seconds, I fumbled to get my presentation up on the screen. Carefully, I talked through my prepared points on the ovarian cancer test, reviewing the importance of the first-of-its-kind test and showing how it had finished its clinical trials with strong results, despite running a few weeks late.

“We’re on track for approvals by early next year,” I concluded.

“Weren’t we targeting late this year?” a board member asked.

“Yes, and we’ll do everything we can to accelerate the schedule, but these processes take time. Some steps are out of our control. We might not make it.”

There were murmurs around the table. My grandfather bent to listen to the board member on his left.

“And,” I said, trying to wrench back their attention, “I have more exciting news. Another first: a biomarker test for endometriosis.” I segued into the second half of my presentation, wrapping up with, “An inexpensive, accessible test for endometriosis will help people get the treatments they need for better quality of life.”

“Discovery Diagnostics fights cancer,” a board member said. “Why are we losing our focus?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re losing our focus. We’re leveraging our expertise to combat another condition,” I said, “one that affects ten percent of reproductive-age people with uteruses. Studies have shown that more than two thirds of patients with the condition have missed school or work due to it.” I remembered Tessa suffering on her couch, reaching for her laptop when what she needed was a nap and a more flexible work schedule. I recalled the sick days Sadie took almost every month. “Think of the productivity lost, the earnings missed. With a diagnosis and better understanding of the condition, more effective treatments are possible.”

Dr. Perrell interrupted the new murmurs by standing. “The effort was a pet project of our former COO, Tessa Wright. I think we can all agree, Oliver, that the test could have a significant impact on women’s health. I’m not convinced it makes Discovery Diagnostics more valuable in the marketplace, but a potential buyer can decide if they want to move forward.”

I stiffened.Ifthey wanted to move forward? If our board voted to sell, would the endometriosis test be locked away, never to be made available to people with endometriosis? That sounded a hell of a lot like one of Tessa’s dad’s wild theories.

“Now,” she said, “let’s move on to the next order of business. We’ve been approached by Greenwich Biomedical with a purchase offer.”

She named the sum, and it was big. Assuming each of the investors was bought out according to the payout plan, my share would mean I’d never have to work again. Like Tessa, though I was a few years older than she was when she got her life-changing payout. For her, it hadn’t been a change for the better.

I glanced around the table. These were all wealthy people. Take my grandfather, for example. He’d retired early and comfortably from his bank president career. When Simon and I approached him for funds to start up Discovery, he listened to our pitch and then wrote us a check, likely thinking he’d never see that money again. He was more of a risk-taker than my father, but he’d never risk more than he could afford to lose. His equity share wasn’t the largest, but because he’d been our first, it was significant.

Still, he didn’t need a payout. None of these people did. Well, except maybe Dr. Perrell for her daughters’ lavish weddings. Briefly, I regretted taking the girls’ dreams away before I blurted, “Why?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, an irritated crease between her eyebrows.

“Why should we sell now?”

“As you all know”—she made a slow circuit of the board members with her gaze—“we’ve struggled to release product to market on a regular basis. This year, our investors haven’t received dividends as promised. It’s time to seek help, not only for ourselves but for the patients we’re looking to serve. The science will be stronger with the backing of Greenwich.” She stared directly into my eyes. “We’ll be stronger together.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that. I leaned back in my chair. We’d have access to more resources. I wouldn’t be forced to beg Dr. Perrell every time I needed a new PCR machine.

On the other hand, I doubted Greenwich would test as rigorously as I wanted. Like Tessa and Dr. Perrell, they’d focus on profit and loss. I doubted they’d take the time to understand the intricacies of my research the way Tessa had.

“I like it,” the secretary said. “It reduces our risk.”

Those were my four favorite words. Yet I couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling in my stomach. “But?—”

Dr. Perrell spoke over me. “Our founder, Simon Grimstone, wanted strong growth for Discovery Diagnostics. He wanted not only for the company to make a scientific difference but”—she chuckled—“a few weeks before he died, he told me his wish was for the company to be listed on the Buzz Bizz 1000. With Greenwich, we can get there. Simon would be thrilled about this opportunity.”

Would he?I wished I could pause the meeting like one of Simon’s console games and go commune with his spirit in the game room. Maybe I’d hear his voice in the pings ofSpace Invaders,and he’d tell me what he really wanted.

“Not to mention,” Dr. Perrell continued, “the benefits to the employees a merger with Greenwich would bring. A larger company can ensure job safety for our staff.”

“Would it?”

I turned at the achingly unexpected voice. Tessa leaned against the doorframe, a neon-yellow visitor badge glowing against her black shirt. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her russet hair was scraped back from her pale face the way she used to wear it in the lab. “How—” I began.

Dr. Perrell spoke over me again. “Tessa, since you tendered your resignation, you don’t have a place in this meeting. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

---