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“Yes. That’s right,” I grinned.

“How many people are currently under your employment?”

“I have a team of six working for me now,” I answered simply.

“I think you’ve done something really amazing, Dr. Parker. I have a great amount of experience with companies like yours and have successfully grown six or seven of them now. I think the potential of Parker LLC is vast and with the right kind of funding it could take off sooner rather than later. If you have more money and manpower, you could escalate your production that much faster,” he began.

I already knew where this was going, so I tried to steer it in another direction.

“Would you like to invest in my company, Mr. Asher? We could put together a stock portfolio for you, or perhaps you could contribute in some way to my research? A grant, perhaps?”

“I already told you, call me Grayson,” he scolded. I blushed slightly but held my ground.

“I apologize. Grayson,” I corrected, dipping my head slightly with respect. Something crossed his face, and I wasn’t quite sure what it was. Interest. Desire. Curiosity. Whatever it was, it left me feeling a bit unsettled.

“Thank you. And no. I’m not interested in only a piece of your business. I’d like to buy it outright. You would remain in the lead position. I am not naïve in that the company needs you for its success. Your employees would also stay. The only thing that would change is that you would work for me,” he said.

“And why would I do that?”

“Money makes things move faster. Everyone has a price and I’m willing to pay it. I have the right connections to make clinical trials move faster. Drug development isn’t cheap, and it comes with a certain amount of red tape that I have the ability to buy my way through. I’ve done it before and I’d do it again,” he explained.

I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest.

“You could employ more scientists. Buy more reagents. Begin the process of mass drug production. I could get you factories, people, whatever you need,” he continued. I couldn’t decide if he was being arrogant or if he just had the kind of money that made those kinds of things just happen. It kind of felt like the latter, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

I wasn’t going to fall for his offer though. I’d made it this far on my own. I didn’t need anyone to help me of the rest of the way. I’d be successful jumping through all the right hoops at the right times all by myself.

I’d play his game for a little while though. I didn’t want to be rude. I’d hear him out at least.

“In the next five years, the insulin industry is forecasted to be worth almost thirty billion dollars. My company will be responsible for a significant piece of that in the next few years. What we’re developing will change not just the industry, but the world,” I answered. I allowed myself to be cocky, just a little bit. I’d earned it.

“I know. Your company stands to put the insulin industry on its knees,” he replied. I couldn’t read his expression. I licked my lips, trying to study the darkness in his gaze and getting nowhere.

“I don’t want to sell my company,” I finally said softly.

“Everyone has a price, Zoe. What’s yours? Ten billion? T

wenty billion? Name your price and it’s yours,” he responded. There was no sarcasm or judgment in his voice. In fact, there was something about it that pulled me in.

Would working for him be so bad?

No.

I couldn’t.

I wasn’t just running my company for kicks or for my pride. I was doing it to honor my mother.

Her image flashed before my eyes, and I gritted my teeth.

My mother developed type one diabetes in her teenage years. Insulin wasn’t as expensive back then, but that was before she had me. I’d never met my father. My mom wouldn’t tell me anything about him. For all my life, it had been me and her. We’d taken care of her diabetes together and for a while, we managed. But then the price of insulin started to rise. And rise. And fucking rise some more.

Soon, we had to choose what bills not to pay so we could get her insulin. Sometimes we went hungry. I never got new clothes for school. Going shopping meant picking through the leftovers of the church lost and found or if I was lucky, a trip to Goodwill. One time, I’d found a twenty-dollar bill on the ground and Mom had let me spend it all. It had felt like I’d won the lottery.

My mom began hiding her insulin use. She’d tell me she’d given herself a dose, but I’d never see the needles. I’d stopped checking in. I’d trusted her to take it. Sometimes she even sent me to get it, but those times grew rarer as time went on.

What I hadn’t known was that she was rationing it. She was only buying it when she had the money and sometimes, she didn’t get it because she had to choose to buy us dinner or pay the rent instead.

She didn’t tell me she’d stopped buying it in the end because we couldn’t afford it. I didn’t find out until our landlord rushed her to the hospital. She hadn’t been testing her glucose levels. She hadn’t taken a dose of insulin in months and her kidneys started failing. By the time she made it to a doctor, it was already too late.


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