“That Car Is Junk!” — CEO Laughs at a Single Dad Janitor’s Mustang, Then He Starts a $2B Engine

Two weeks later, the walls were closing in on Vivian Carmichael.

The executive boardroom of Apex Innovations felt like a pressurized tomb.

The panoramic views of the Seattle skyline offered no comfort to the twelve nervous board members sitting around the glass table.

At the head of the table, Vivian stood, gripping a laser pointer so tightly her knuckles were white.

“The leaks are contained,” Vivian lied, her voice tight and defensive.

“The thermal variance in the latest Vanguard prototype is well within acceptable safety margins.”

“Acceptable margins?”* interrupted David Cho, the largest institutional shareholder in the room.

He slammed a manila folder onto the table.

*”Vivian, your lead engineer’s test rig caught fire yesterday during a closed-loop simulation! The fire suppression system couldn’t even put it out because the solid-state array went critical. The Wall Street Journal is running an exposé tomorrow morning calling Vanguard a ‘billion-dollar bonfire.'”*

Vivian’s face flushed red.

“It was an isolated calibration error—”

“Apex stock is down forty percent in pre-market trading!” Cho roared, standing up.

“You promised us a revolution, Vivian. You promised us an engine that would crush Tesla and Rivian. Instead, you’ve burned through four billion dollars of R&D capital, and we have absolutely nothing to show for it.”

Vivian swallowed hard, the suffocating grip of panic closing around her throat.

She had inherited a pristine empire from her father, and in three years, she was on the verge of bankrupting it because she refused to admit her engineers had failed.

“We need a strategic acquisition,” Vivian said, shifting tactics.

“If we can’t build it, we buy it. We acquire a startup with functional tech, slap the Apex logo on it, and the shareholders back off.”

“Buy what?” Cho scoffed.

“There is nobody in the market who has solved the energy-density issue without triggering a thermal event. It’s physics, Vivian.”

“Not according to the whispers coming out of Silicon Valley,” interjected a quiet, older board member at the end of the table.

Vivian’s eyes snapped to him.

“What whispers?”

“Richard Belmont,” the board member said.

“My contacts at Belmont & Hayes say he just aggressively patented a new propulsion system. A closed-loop electromagnetic induction core. They’re calling it the ‘Masterson Core’. The rumor is, it operates at zero heat, with an energy density triple anything on the market. If it’s real, it’s the holy grail.”

Vivian felt a cold sweat break out on her neck.

Richard Belmont.

The man she had tried to impress at the gala.

The man who had mocked her electric fleet.

“Has he gone public?” Vivian asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“No. He’s keeping it under wraps. But if we don’t get to him first, he’ll license it to Ford or GM, and Apex Innovations will be completely obsolete by Q3.”

Vivian didn’t hesitate.

She grabbed her phone from the table.

“I’ll call Belmont. I will offer him double whatever he put into it. We buy this ‘Masterson Core,’ absorb the patent, and save Vanguard.”

She stormed out of the boardroom, her heels clicking frantically against the marble.

She retreated to her private office, slamming the door, and dialed Belmont’s private number.

He picked up on the second ring.

*”Vivian. I was wondering when you’d call.”* His voice dripped with casual arrogance.

“Cut the crap, Richard,” Vivian snapped, pacing the length of her office.

“I know about the induction core you’re funding. I want to buy the startup. Name your price.”

*”It’s not a startup, Vivian. It’s a private patent holding. And it’s not for sale. But… my partner might be willing to discuss an exclusive licensing agreement. For the right percentage, of course.”*

“I want to see it,” Vivian demanded.

“I need my engineers to verify the telemetry. If it solves my thermal issues, I will write you a check that will make your head spin.”

*”I thought you might say that,”* Belmont chuckled.

*”Bring your checkbook and your lead engineers to the private airstrip out in King County. Tomorrow, noon. Don’t be late. My partner is very particular about punctuality.”*

The line went dead.

Vivian stared at her phone, a vicious smile creeping onto her face.

She was going to survive this.

She just needed to throw enough money at Belmont’s mysterious partner.