The Prototype

Chapter 10 - The Prototype
Smoke rose from Northbridge’s executive floor at 11:18 p.m.
Sprinklers contained the fire, but the archive room burned hotter than the surrounding offices. Someone had used a chemical accelerant designed to destroy electronic components without spreading far enough to endanger the entire building.
A controlled erasure.
The cloud footage survived.
The physical prototype records did not.
Adrian was filmed leaving through the parking garage fourteen minutes before the alarm. He claimed coincidence.
Detective Brooks found something he had overlooked.
The Orion device removed from Mateo’s cast contained a newer processor than any model in the archived plans. Its design came from Daniel’s final private patent—an adaptive system capable of changing doses in response to movement and heart rate.
Daniel never transferred that patent to Northbridge.
Only Mateo’s trust owned it.
Adrian needed guardianship not merely for voting shares. He needed legal authority to license the patent and legitimize a product already used in secret trials.
The federal disaster contract required proof of ownership by the end of the month.
Without Mateo’s signature or guardian approval, the deal collapsed.
Northbridge’s stock fell forty percent.
Thousands of employees feared layoffs. Adrian appeared on business television and blamed Elena for destroying pensions, jobs, and lifesaving innovation.
The accusation found an audience.
Workers protested outside the courthouse. Some carried signs calling Elena greedy. Others said one child’s experience should not erase a company’s future.
Elena asked to meet employee representatives without cameras.
She showed them the trial footage, pension risks, and patent fraud. She also presented a restructuring plan Daniel drafted years earlier. It would separate Northbridge’s medical-device division from the trust, protect ordinary payroll, and transfer safety oversight to an independent council including patients.
An engineer asked why she had not released it sooner.
“Because Adrian told me I was incapable of understanding it,” Elena said. “Eventually I made the mistake of believing him.”
The room quieted.
A machinist named Paul Reed stood.
“My daughter wore an Orion cast after a soccer injury,” he said. “She slept eighteen hours a day. We thought it was pain.”
More families came forward.
The prototype was not limited to the sealed trial.
Northbridge had distributed hundreds through partner clinics under a “compassionate care” program.
May you like
The scandal was larger than anyone knew.
And some children were still wearing them.