Chapter 3 - The Name That Disappeared
Amber moved into the guest room of her friend Naomi Chen, Northstar’s former regulatory specialist.
Naomi had resigned two months earlier after arguing with Kenton over testing standards. At the time, Kenton claimed Naomi was difficult and disloyal.
Now Amber began to question everything he had told her.
“You need to protect your work,” Naomi said after reading the divorce documents.
“The patents list Northstar.”
“The early provisional filings list you.”
“The company owns them.”
“Only if you signed the final intellectual property assignment.”
Amber remembered discussing the document but could not remember signing it.
Naomi helped her access Northstar’s public patent files.
Amber’s stomach tightened as she read them.
The newest application listed Kenton Hale as the sole inventor of Aurora Shield’s predictive architecture.
Her name was gone.
She searched the company website.
Her biography had been removed from the leadership page.
The company’s history now claimed Kenton had founded Northstar after “personally developing a revolutionary patient-monitoring concept.”
Photographs of Amber in the original laboratory had been replaced with new images of Kenton standing beside equipment he did not know how to operate.
Amber called Northstar’s legal department.
Her access was terminated during the call.
She emailed the board.
No one responded.
The following morning, a courier delivered a notice accusing her of retaining confidential company property. Northstar demanded the immediate return of her laptop and notebooks.
Kenton called an hour later.
“Give them back,” he said.
“They’re my personal research notebooks.”
“Anything created during company employment belongs to Northstar.”
“I founded Northstar.”
“You’re no longer employed there.”
“You removed me after I discovered your affair.”
“You took medical leave.”
“I never requested leave.”
“We have the paperwork.”
Amber closed her eyes.
“What did you do?”
“I protected the company while you were unstable.”
“I’m not unstable.”
“You abandoned your responsibilities.”
“You locked me out.”
“Return the property, sign the settlement, and this can end quietly.”
The proposed settlement offered Amber enough money to live comfortably for several years. In exchange, she would surrender all claims to Northstar, accept strict confidentiality terms, and acknowledge Kenton as Aurora Shield’s creator.
Amber rejected it.
Two days later, Northstar sued her.
The complaint accused her of stealing proprietary technology, violating company security, and attempting to sabotage an important hospital agreement.
Online articles repeated the allegations.
Sienna posted a carefully worded statement about supporting Kenton through “a painful situation caused by someone unable to accept that their marriage had ended.”
Amber’s pregnancy became public.
Comments appeared beneath photographs of her leaving a medical appointment.
Some called her jealous.
Others accused her of using the baby to gain sympathy.
Northstar’s valuation continued rising.
Amber’s legal bills grew.
Then her doctor ordered bed rest after she experienced complications brought on by stress.
One night, as rain struck Naomi’s windows, Amber sat surrounded by old hard drives, receipts, laboratory notes, and corporate documents.
“I can prove I designed Aurora Shield,” she said.
Naomi shook her head gently.
“Proving you worked on it isn’t enough. Kenton will claim you were an employee following his direction.”
“I have the original code.”
“He’ll say it belongs to Northstar.”
Amber opened the oldest project folder.
The files were dated years before Northstar existed.
But dates could be challenged.
Documents could be altered.
Signatures could be forged.
Then Amber remembered something.
During the earliest development stage, she had created a private verification system to protect patient data and prove that test results had not been changed.
Every major version of the software contained an encrypted authorship record.
The key was not stored on Northstar’s servers.
It was connected to a personal storage device Amber had hidden years ago after their first apartment was burglarized.
She looked at Naomi.
“I know where the original key is.”
“Where?”
Amber glanced toward the city skyline.
May you like
“In the last place Kenton would ever look.”
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