Chapter 4The Core Developer's Counterattack

The meeting ended abruptly and poorly.

As Richard was leaving, he gave me a long look, seemingly wanting to say more, but ultimately just offered, "Ms. Fiona, please take care of your health."

As Olivia walked past me, she discreetly slipped a business card into my hand.

"If you need anything, please contact me."

I clutched the card and nodded.

The moment the investors walked out the door, David's face twisted into an ugly scowl.

He slammed the project folder onto the table.

"Fiona! What exactly was the meaning of that stunt you pulled today?"

I gripped the back of the chair and slowly sat down.

My incision was trembling, and I could feel a damp, warm sensation spreading beneath my clothes—it was likely bleeding.

"What do you mean?"

"When Richard asked you a question, couldn't you have shown a little humility? Did you really have to steal the spotlight?"

I looked at him, finding the entire situation utterly ridiculous.

"David, Richard asked a technical question. Chloe couldn't answer it. If I didn't answer it, who was going to?"

He choked on his own words.

Next to him, Chloe kept her head down, her eyes rimmed with red, playing the part of a deeply wronged victim perfectly.

"Fiona... I know I'm not as capable as you, but you didn't have to humiliate me like that in front of the investors..."

Her voice trembled with unshed tears.

I stared at her for several long seconds.

"Chloe, do you even know what a loss function is?"

She froze.

"Of course I do, it's that... the thing that calculates the error—"

"You don't know."

I cut her off sharply.

"You have no idea what a loss function is, yet you had the audacity to stand in front of investors and pretend to present the core algorithm. The technical jargon on your PowerPoint—you copied it straight from my documentation, didn't you?"

Chloe's face drained of color.

"I didn't copy it... I just referenced it..."

"Referenced?"

I let out a cold laugh, unlocked my phone, and pulled up a screenshot of slide 12 from her presentation, zooming in for her to see.

"This technical architecture diagram? I drew it two years ago. The original file is on my hard drive, created on September 17, 2022, at 3:41 PM. Tell me again how you 'referenced' it?"

Chloe's lips trembled.

"I... I thought... we're a team, the materials are shared resources..."

"Shared?"

I put my phone away and spoke, enunciating every single word.

"Chloe, right before I went on maternity leave, did you copy every single file from my workstation while I wasn't looking?"

Her face went from pale white to bright red, and back to white again.

David finally interjected.

"Fiona, drop the passive-aggressive tone. Project materials are company property. As the project lead, Chloe has every right to access them."

Project lead.

Those two words again.

I turned my gaze to him.

"David, I'd love to know, exactly how was this 'project lead' designated?"

He scoffed. "It was a departmental decision. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No problem."

I slowly stood up.

"I just wanted to confirm one thing—the core algorithm for this project was written entirely by me. On all the patent application materials, the name under 'Inventor' should be mine, correct?"

The conference room fell dead silent.

David and Chloe exchanged another look.

That look lasted for exactly two seconds.

Only two seconds, but I saw it all clearly.

My heart sank like a stone.

"David," I stared him down, "what is the current status of the patent application?"

He let out a dry, awkward laugh.

"It's currently moving through the approval process."

"Who is listed as the inventor?"

He didn't answer.

I pressed harder. "David, who is the inventor?"

He averted his eyes, looking out the window.

"Fiona, your only job right now is to enjoy your maternity leave. We can discuss everything else when you get back."

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

The realization felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured directly over my heart.

I didn't say another word, turned, and walked toward the door.

"Fiona!"

David yelled after me.

"Don't you dare go spouting nonsense about the project team. Otherwise—"

I didn't even look back.

"Otherwise what?"

He remained silent.

I pushed the door open and walked out.

At the far end of the hallway, I leaned against the wall and looked down at my stomach.

A small patch of dark red had already soaked through my coat.

My incision had torn open.