The next day I called Carmen. But not to start the divorce proceedings. To do something different.
“I need to understand exactly what we have and how it’s all structured,” I told him. “In detail. Everything.”
Carmen was a good lawyer precisely because she didn’t ask unnecessary questions when the client had a certain tone of voice. We started working.
The first thing I discovered was something Rodrigo had never considered relevant to tell me: the company we had built together, that logistics company that started in a garage eleven years ago and was now generating millions in revenue, was registered in a very particular way. Rodrigo was listed as the director and majority shareholder. But the intellectual property of the routing system, the algorithm that made everything work and was the real reason why clients preferred us, had been developed by me during the first four years, before Valentina was born and I took over running the household.
That system was patented in my name.
Carmen saw it before I did.
Elena said, in a voice I had never heard from her before, “Do you know what this means?”
I knew it. But I let her explain it anyway.
Without the algorithm, the company wasn’t a company. It was a fleet of trucks and a contact list. The real value, the value that had recently attracted three international investment funds, resided entirely in that system. And that system was mine.
Rodrigo could keep 60% of a company that without my patent would be worth a fraction of what he thought it was worth.