Chapter 45 Pharmaceutical company
ANNA'S POV
Today was the opening of my pharmaceutical company, and no matter how many times I reminded myself of that fact, it still didn’t feel entirely real. Right now, the biggest pharmaceutical company everyone talked about was still the one I used to work for with James, before everything went wrong and I lost my job in the most humiliating way possible. That company had once felt like my future, my pride, something I poured years of my life into until it was ripped away from me without mercy.
But today was different.
Today, I wasn’t standing under anyone’s shadow. Today, I was about to own my own company. And if everything worked out just as planned, then I would finally be able to do what had driven me into this industry in the first place — to reach out and help the less privileged, the people who stayed sick for months or even years simply because they didn’t have the money to treat themselves. People who were ignored because saving them wasn’t “profitable enough.”
A small launch would have been more than fine with me. In fact, that was what I wanted from the beginning. Something quiet. Something controlled. Something without too many eyes watching my every move. But Mom and Dad were not that type of people. They didn’t believe the CEO of their company, especially their daughter, should open something this big with a small, forgettable launch.
They wanted it grand.
They wanted lights, cameras, media houses, investors, guests, and reporters flooding the entrance hall like this was the event of the year. And now that I stood here, facing all of it, I could admit at least to myself that they might have been right. This wasn’t just about me. This was about sending a message.
I stood right in front of the media, the company logo displayed boldly behind me, cameras flashing nonstop as reporters adjusted their recorders and notebooks. I could hear murmurs all around, my name being whispered in different tones, some curious, some impressed, some skeptical.
“Ms. Quinn would only take questions concerning her company,” my PA announced loudly, her voice firm and professional. “Any other questions apart from that will not be answered.”
Slowly, the entire entrance hall began to quiet down. The murmuring faded, replaced by an almost tense silence. They clearly understood what my PA said.
Even then, my palms felt slightly damp.
I was uneasy, more than I wanted to admit. This was the first time I had been in front of such a massive crowd, all eyes focused on me, waiting for me to either impress them or give them something to tear apart. The last time I stood before this many people, it hadn’t gone well at all. That day was still fresh in my memory — James, his mother, Melissa, the humiliation, the way I had felt so small and powerless in a place full of people who enjoyed watching me fall.
That memory was one of the main reasons I wanted a small launch.
With fewer people, there would be fewer chances for things to spiral out of control. Fewer opportunities for my past to resurface. Fewer eyes ready to judge every breath I took. But standing here now, there was no turning back. All I could do was stay calm, keep my composure, and hope I didn’t mess up the questions they were about to throw at me.
Reporters were like sharks. I had learned that the hard way.
Once they smelled blood or fear, they attacked without mercy. In my case, fear was exactly what I was trying so hard to hide.
One of the reporters raised her hand, and after a brief pause, I gave her a small nod, signaling that she could proceed. The camera lenses shifted immediately, focusing on her and then back on me.
“Good day, Ms. Quinn,” she said politely. “Congratulations once again on this remarkable achievement. It has come to our hearing that you re-engineered the original formula created for hepatitis C and used it to develop your own cure. Is that true?”
The question was direct. Expected. Safe.
I cleared my throat slightly, making sure my voice was steady before leaning closer to the microphone in front of me. “Yes,” I answered simply.
The reporter didn’t seem satisfied with just that, which I anticipated.
“And has this new cure been properly tested?” she continued. “I mean, lately, we’ve seen cases where new medications are released too quickly, only for serious side effects to appear later. There’s always concern when it comes to newly developed treatments.”
That was still a textbook question. Logical. Professional.
“I can assure you,” I replied calmly, a confident smile forming on my lips, “that it has been fully tested. I personally participated in years of research behind this cure. Every stage was handled with care, and it is absolutely ready to be introduced to the world.”
She nodded, seemingly satisfied, before sitting back down. My shoulders relaxed just a little.
Almost immediately, another reporter raised her hand and stood up. My gaze shifted to her, and for a brief moment, I braced myself. So far, the questions have been safe.
“Hello, Ms. Quinn,” she began with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “This is a very big step you’re taking today. None of us expected you to open another company — especially a pharmaceutical company that appears set to rival the famous Greenleaf Med. How do you feel about that?”
There it was.
Greenleaf Med.
The company where I once worked. The company James still worked for. The place where my ideas were stolen, and eventually used against me. Hearing the name out loud in this setting sent a brief wave of tension through my chest, but I kept my expression neutral.
Just like I had thought, these reporters truly were sharks. With just one sentence, she had already labeled my company as a rival to Greenleaf Med, creating a narrative before I even opened my mouth. Rivalry meant competition. Competition meant conflict. Conflict meant headlines.
One wrong word, and they would twist it into something ugly.
I knew better than to give them what they wanted.
“No comment,” I said calmly into the microphone.
The disappointment on her face was obvious, but she quickly masked it with a professional smile, refusing to let the moment linger.
“Alright,” she said smoothly. “Then let me ask this. As the owner of Quinn’s Enterprise, many people are shocked that you chose to open another company altogether. Do you mind telling us why?”
For a split second, I raised a brow, genuinely surprised that she would ask something so obvious. But I reminded myself that sometimes, obvious questions were the most dangerous ones if answered carelessly.
I straightened my posture and leaned slightly forward.
“Firstly,” I began, my voice steady and clear, “I didn’t commit a crime by choosing to open another business. Secondly, this will not be the last company I open. There will be more in the future, and all of them will fall under the Quinn Group, which oversees every branch.”
A few cameras flashed more aggressively, and I continued without pause.
“And lastly,” I said, “I opened this company because I care about people. Most people open businesses with one goal in mind — profit. And while profit is important, it is not my primary goal. My goal is to change the world in my own way, to make medication accessible, and to help everyone this treatment can reach.