His Lesson Killed My Mother Now He Will Pay Chapter 59
In the second month after the system was restored, a national healthcare group proposed a long-term partnership.
The licensing fee would be enough to support two more Last Ride centers.
I stopped when I reached the data clause in the contract.
They wanted to retain all original user responses to evaluate the system’s effectiveness. Names would be removed, but the group would be free to use the data for internal research and future product development.
The representative explained, “Once it’s anonymized, it isn’t personal privacy anymore.”
“An experience doesn’t stop belonging to a person just because you remove their name.”
“Ms. Reyes, this is standard across the industry.”
He set a pen in front of me.
“If you don’t agree, this budget will be difficult to approve.”
No one on my staff spoke.
The sites for the next two service centers had already been scouted. There were still dozens of communities on the waiting list that needed nighttime evacuation vehicles.
If I signed, there would be garages, ramps, and drivers.
I thought of that perpetual authorization agreement, priced at one dollar.
Back then, Graham had pushed the pen toward me in exactly the same way, telling me that signing was what benefited everyone most.
I closed the contract.
“Then don’t approve it.”
The representative blinked. “You don’t need more time to think?”
“No.”
I pushed the contract back across the table.
“We provide an assessment service. We do not buy people’s lives.”
After he left with his team, our finance director quietly reminded me that without that money, the third service center would be delayed by at least a year.
“Then it opens a year later.”
I would rather open one less door than lock up someone else’s story to buy my own.