Chapter 2 The Recipes They Stole

The next afternoon, the company held its eighth-anniversary product showcase as scheduled. Three of its best-selling products appeared one after another on the big screen.

They were osmanthus cheese spread, green plum sparkling drink, and black sesame rice milk.

The host smiled and asked, "Ms. Farrel, these three bestsellers practically built the company's early success. Where did the original inspiration come from?"

Natasha took the microphone and replied, "Well, Lydia enjoys experimenting with food at home. So, she did give us some inspiration in the beginning."

All eyes turned toward me the very next second.

She smiled and went on, "But home recipes and commercial products are two very different things. The team worked hard on standardization, supply chains, and rolling everything out across our stores."

Applause followed.

Two new employees in the front row whispered to each other, "So, Mr. Waterson's wife was involved after all."

Just involved?

I had revised the first version of the osmanthus cheese spread 27 times because it tasted bitter. As for the green plum drink, it fermented too easily in the summer.

I tested every batch in the early hours of the morning for three whole months.

Back then, the company didn't even have a research and development department. Natasha wasn't even part of the crew. I was the brains and the muscle behind it, but now all my work had been reduced to experimenting with food at home.

I didn't go looking for Natasha after the showcase.

Derrick was talking with business partners backstage. I handed him the anniversary booklet and asked, "Did you approve this?"

He glanced at it and said, "It's just promotional material."

"Then, why is Natasha listed as head of product development?"

"She handles commercialization."

"What about me?"

When Derrick heard that, he closed the booklet and said, "Lydia, why are you suddenly fighting over everything? First, it was the shares, and now you can't even let go of one line in a brochure."

"I created these products."

"I know."

"Do the others know?"

His patience ran out quickly. "Natasha is the one who sells them. How much would those recipes of yours even be worth without the company, its distribution channels, and her marketing efforts?"

Just then, someone from the R&D department hurried over.

"Mr. Waterson, the new product still isn't passing the taste test."

The employee immediately brought over a sample cup when they saw me, saying, "Ms. Lydia, perfect timing. The aftertaste is still too strong. Could you help us taste it?"

I didn't take the cup.

Jessica followed my gaze, looked down at the sample, and then back at me. "Ms. Lydia?"

"Who's in charge of this project?"

"Ms. Farrel."

"Then, run along and ask Ms. Farrel."

Jessica instinctively took a step forward and replied, "But the product will be launching next week. You've always helped us with the final adjustments."

I handed her the anniversary booklet. "Tell me. Whose name is on it?"

Nobody around us dared to answer.

"From now on, whoever's name is on a project can take responsibility for everything."

Derrick's voice darkened. "Do you really have to mix company business with our marital problems?"

"Didn't you say it yourself?" I pointed toward the R&D room. "My recipes are worthless without the company. So, surely the company can manage without me as well."

He messaged me that evening.

"The new product's taste test is at 10 a.m. tomorrow. Don't be late."

I replied, "Ask the head of R&D."

He immediately rang me up, but I didn't answer.

The small apartment I had owned before we married had been empty for a long time. I went back, opened the storage cabinet, and pulled out a cardboard box from the bottom shelf.

It held everything I had kept when I closed my studio eight years ago. The earliest recipe drafts, ingredient purchase records, testing reports, and documents signed under my personal studio's name before the company was founded.

One of them was an exclusive license agreement for the core production techniques.

Back then, the company was short on cash and couldn't afford to buy the rights outright. Derrick had told me, "Let the company use them for now. We'll make it official once we start making money."

Later, we were swamped with building our franchise, securing investments, and expanding the company. As a result, the matter was put off again and again.

I opened the special terms section of the contract.

One clause was written in black and white. It stated, "The core materials may not be transferred to any third party without the rights holder's written consent."

The computer's old email account still held a message from three months earlier. The title was, "Request to Access Core Product Materials."

The requesting party wasn't our current company, but it was a name I had never seen before.

Farrel Food Inc.

Derrick and Natasha were both CC'd on the email, and I was the only one left out.