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"Parents Called My Research 'Worthless'—Until Big Pharma Called"
@revenge retrun-

The family dining room felt smaller than usual, crowded with disapproval as my parents and sister gathered for what they called an "important discussion." Mom's designer outfit and Dad's surgeon credentials seemed to fill the space, while my sister Diana's white coat from her prestigious private practice hung like a trophy on the chair.
I sat in my worn lab coat, the one they'd mocked as "shabby," unaware that its pocket contained notes worth billions.
"Katherine," Dad began, his chief of surgery voice in full effect, "this has gone on long enough. Your mother and I are concerned about your... career choices."
I glanced at my phone, silently tracking the final phase of clinical trials. The treatment protocol we'd developed was showing unprecedented success rates, but they didn't need to know that yet.
"The lab work is progressing," I said quietly, knowing our breakthrough was hours away from changing medicine forever.
"Progressing?" Diana snorted, adjusting her designer watch. "You've been stuck in that university lab for five years. I've built a whole cardiology practice in that time."
Mom sipped her wine, diamond rings catching the light. "Darling, Diana's practice just opened a second location. Meanwhile, you're still playing with test tubes."
The irony wasn't lost on me. Those "test tubes" contained compounds that would revolutionize cancer treatment.
"Research takes time," I replied, as my tablet silently processed another batch of promising results.
"Time?" Dad lowered his reading glasses. "You're thirty-four, Katherine. Diana's already on the hospital board."
"And dating that neurosurgeon," Mom added pointedly. "While you spend your weekends with cell cultures."
My phone vibrated – probably the patent office with final approval. I ignored it.
"The lab work is important," I insisted. "Our results are showing—"
"Results?" Diana interrupted. "You mean those endless experiments that never go anywhere? While I'm saving actual lives?"
"Your trust fund isn't infinite," Dad warned, his glasses reflecting the chandelier light. "And your portion is nearly depleted."
"I haven't touched the trust fund," I said. "Not in three years."
Mom nearly dropped her wine glass. "Then how are you surviving? That tiny university lab can't possibly—"
My phone buzzed again. Then again. Suddenly, alerts were flooding in.
"BREAKING: Revolutionary Cancer Treatment Patent Valued at $6.1 Billion"
"Medical World Stunned by Breakthrough Therapy"
"Big Pharma in Bidding War for Groundbreaking Treatment"



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