Victor held his press conference in the ballroom of a five-star hotel. He was likely trying to project the illusion that he was still respectable and powerful. When Julian and I arrived, the room was packed with reporters. Victor wore a rumpled suit, his hair was greasy, and heavy dark circles hung beneath his eyes. There was no trace left of his former swagger. When he saw me, a flash of malice crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a feigned sorrow.
As the conference began, Victor started by tearfully accusing me of "running off with the money" and being "cold-blooded." Then, he shifted gears for his final counterattack.
"I know everyone probably thinks that just because Serena holds the patent, I've lost," he sneered, looking at me. "But you may not know this: while the pate
