Page 40 of The Omega Switch: Part 2

I had come closer than I ever wanted to admit to bonding the wrong omega. But the worst thing of all was that I had punished the right one for trying to tell us the truth.

“Ivy,” I said, my voice calm and controlled despite the storm of emotion raging inside of me.

“Hunter.” She approached warily, and sat across from me, her expression guarded.

She was nervous, too - but this time, she seemed more resilient. My alpha instincts really, really liked that. I loved seeing her hidden strength.

“Thank you for meeting me,” I said, and tried to catch her eye. She kept looking away, fidgeting with her bag.

“You said you had information.” She was direct, her voice cold. I deserved nothing warmer.

I nodded, and slid the folder of files across the desk.

“I heard that Nestwell is trying to force you to stop selling your products.”

Her jaw twitched, and she glanced down. “Yes. So they can shut me down.”

“They can certainly try,” I said, raising an eyebrow. She sat back and crossed her arms, giving me a tired look.

“That sounds like something wealthy people say when they know they can afford attorneys.” Her biting reply humbled me.

“You’re right,” I said, not looking away. “They want you to panic. They expect the cost of defending yourself to be enough to make you close the boutique, to give up, or go back to them out of desperation.” I said. She took a breath, then let it out, her shoulders sagging.

“I don’t have the money to fight them.” Her voice was tight, like she wanted to fight but knew that it was hopeless. “And from what I understand, my family had everything patented under Nestwell Aesthetics. I didn't even know about all that.” She said, looking at the desk.

“They patented products you created,” I stated.

“With my father’s name on the applications.” She said bitterly.

“That doesn’t make him the inventor,” I argued.

“It may make him the legal owner.” She said.

“Not necessarily.” I opened the folder and pointed to the summary our attorneys had prepared. “If you can prove that you developed the formulas and that Nestwell filed applications using your work without properly crediting you, you may be able to challenge the patents.”

Her eyes moved over the pages, and she shook her head. “I already thought about that. I don’t have proof. I left my laboratory notebooks behind.”

“There could be archived emails, internal correspondence, lab access logs, or testimony from employees who saw you developing the products,” I said, mentally willing her not to give up.

“My family controlled the systems.” She said, her voice weary.

“Which means their attempts to alter records may become evidence themselves.” She leaned back, looking suddenly exhausted. I hated it. I hated seeing her looking defeated. She’d dealt with enough as it was. “There’s more,” I said. Her gaze returned to mine.

“We’ve seen Nestwell Aesthetics and their financials, and other documents. Our attorneys believe you may have grounds to claim not only ownership of the inventions, but a financial stake in Nestwell itself.”

She looked at me suddenly. “What?”

“If the company’s worth was built on products you developed without proper credit, you may have a claim against the company and its owners. And Ivy, all of them were profiting from it. You should too.”

She looked at me as if I was crazy.

“You think I should fight for part of their company?” she asked.

“I think you should fight for what is yours.” I leaned forward slightly. “They used your work to build Nestwell. They placed Arabella’s face over your achievements and treated you as though you contributed nothing. Now they’re trying to bully you to destroy the first thing you’ve built without them. Don’t let them take that away. Fight them.”

Her eyes shone, but she refused to look away.

“I have no money for this,” she said. “I spend all my time just trying to get enough money to survive and run my store. They’ll bury me before I get close to proving anything.”