Six months later, I stood on a stage beside Lake Geneva. A gold medallion was placed around my neck while medical researchers filled the hall with applause.
The wealthy crowd kept its applause measured, just as it had when the medallion was announced. Its weight pressed against my collarbone when I left the podium.
They were honoring the same work Sterling Medical had used to call me greedy.
My patent, now licensed through the Reed Institute, was saving thousands of lives. Its license fees funded the staff, materials, and years of research behind each dose.
At the reception, I passed Nobel laureates and philanthropists. My gold medallion kept striking the stem of my glass.
Through the polished windows, Lake Geneva reflected the lights from the hall.
A silent news program played in a
