Chapter 2 - FLYNN-CONSTANCE RESEARCH
Roman? No. Oliver stopped when Lissa raised one hand.
“Back up.”
“Lissa, you don’t understand what he has.”
“Then explain it.”
Archie laughed bitterly.
“He’s had twenty-two years.”
The security officers looked between Oliver and Lissa, uncertain who controlled the room.
Lissa did.
“Everyone outside except Oliver.”
When the doors closed, she opened the folder again.
Articles.
Patent drafts.
Photographs.
A partnership certificate.
FLYNN-CONSTANCE RESEARCH, LLC.
Co-founders:
Archibald Flynn.
Edmund Constance.
Lissa stared.
The company history Lissa knew began with Edmund alone.
There was no Flynn.
Archie pointed to a scorched patent draft.
“I designed the thermal-resilience circuit. Your father handled financing and manufacturing.”
Oliver recovered his voice.
“Archie was a technical partner for less than two years. After the fire, Edmund acquired the surviving assets.”
“What fire?” Lissa asked.
Archie looked at her.
“The one that killed my wife.”
Silence.
Twenty-two years earlier, a laboratory fire destroyed Flynn-Constance Research. Archie suffered severe burns. His wife, Clara, who handled records and accounting, died from smoke inhalation.
Edmund survived because he was off-site.
Months later, Constance Systems was incorporated.
Its first major patent looked remarkably similar to Archie’s draft.
Oliver opened his tablet.
“There was a settlement.”
He showed her a scanned agreement.
Archibald Flynn transferred all intellectual-property rights to Edmund Constance for $420,000 and assumption of medical expenses.
Signature:
Archibald J. Flynn.
Archie stared at it with hatred.
“I never signed that.”
Oliver answered calmly.
“You accepted the money.”
“I was unconscious.”
Lissa looked up.
“What?”
Archie pulled a hospital record from the folder.
Settlement date:
March 17.
Burn-unit record:
Archibald Flynn—medically sedated, ventilated, March 14 through March 21.
Lissa read both pages twice.
Oliver’s jaw tightened.
“Records can be incomplete.”
Archie stepped toward him.
“You were there.”
Lissa turned.
Oliver was suddenly too still.
Archie continued.
“Nineteen years old. Engineering intern. Always carrying Edmund’s coffee because you wanted him to notice you.”
Lissa stared at Oliver.
“You worked for my father before Constance Systems?”
He nodded once.
“Yes.”
That fact had never appeared in his executive biography.
Then a child coughed from across the warehouse.
Lissa looked toward the cots.
“Why are they here?”
Archie’s expression changed.
“These kids lived at West Arbor Apartments.”
Lissa knew the name.
Company-owned housing.
A fire had damaged one building six weeks earlier.
Operations had called it a contractor incident.
Archie said quietly:
“Your company put them here twice.”
Lissa felt the floor shift.
Old fire.
May you like
New fire.
And Oliver knew both.
