27.
Crystal
I drag myself across the freshly polished concrete floor of the manufacturing space, the weight of last week’s confrontation sitting like lead in my stomach. The guys—Justin, Austin, Rhys, and Theo—are already here, their backs to me as they huddle over a blueprint sprawled across a makeshift table. It’s been seven days since our blow up, and even though we’ve managed to keep things professional, the air still crackles with unspoken tension.
“Good morning,” I murmur as I approach, my voice barely a whisper, unsure if I want to shatter the fragile peace that hangs between us.
“Morning, Crystal,” they reply in an oddly synchronized chorus, their eyes flicking to mine just long enough to acknowledge my presence before darting away, as if afraid of what might be said in a lingering gaze.
We’ve pored over leases and plans to bring this new space to life, a cathedral of innovation where the batteries will soon come into existence. The skeleton of the manufacturing area looms around us, steel beams and dangling wires promising our future.
And then there’s the office space. I’m still striving for a shared vision of equality. I’ve designed five offices, identical in square footage and each with a view. I’ve spent hours with the blueprints, ensuring that not even a sliver of difference could be detected between the spaces. It’s the only way to keep us all on equal footing.
While the ghost of our manufacturing dream is taking shape around us, the reality is that neither it nor the offices will be ready for months. We’re moving forward, nonetheless. Fueled by the cash influx from the automakers, we’ve hired engineers—their résumés stacked neatly in my outbox—and placed orders for robots that will serve as the backbone of our operation. They’ll arrive soon, ready to assemble the power sources of tomorrow.
In the meantime, we continue to tinker with the battery’s formula, chasing the few elusive percentage points that separate our prototypes from the efficiency of standard lithium and copper batteries powering today’s electric vehicles—and that will one day power anything with a battery. It’s a gap we’re determined to close, a puzzle we’re bent on solving. Every day is another step, another chance to push past the frustration of not being there yet.
“Crystal, the order for the robots… Have you confirmed delivery dates?” Justin asks.
“Confirmed and double-checked,” I assure him, pulling out the tablet that houses my schedules and charts. “They’ll be here as planned.”
“Perfect,” he says with a nod, and I catch a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes before he refocuses on the task at hand.
We may not have everything figured out, and last week’s scars are still fresh, but for now, at least, we stand united in the face of the monumental task ahead. At Justin’s urging, Theo, Austin, and Rhys have agreed to allow SHN to mediate our disagreement about company ownership, and I’m hopeful that will help them all see reason. I truly hope we can work something out because as I watch them now—heads bent, minds churning—I know that despite everything, this is where I belong.
A little while later, we assemble in the conference room, and I step up to the front, clutching my summaries like a shield. Justin nods to me, signaling that it’s time to bring everyone up to speed on our progress. The walls, still stark and unadorned in our unfinished office space, echo back the sound of shuffling papers and the restless shifting of chairs.
“Okay, let’s start with where we are on the buildout,” I begin. I scan their faces—Justin’s earnest gaze, Austin’s impassive scrutiny, Rhys’s impatient frown, and Theo’s encouraging smile—all waiting for me to lay out the future of our work environment.
As I delve into the details, pointing to the projected images of the new office layout, Rhys interrupts with a question that slices through my carefully laid plans. “Crystal, why are there five offices? And who belongs in each one?” His tone isn’t accusatory, but it needles at me all the same.
I pause, taking a deep breath before addressing his query. “There are five offices because there are five of us on staff right now, and as for who sits where, that’s something we’ll have to figure out together,” I say, attempting to keep my response diplomatic. “I’ve ensured that all the offices are identical in size, and each view is unique. We’re partners in this venture, and the space should reflect that.”
There’s a rustling as the guys shift, exchanging glances. I sense the tension, the unspoken hierarchy they’re determined to force on me. But before anyone can press further, Justin starts to speak, likely aiming to smooth things over.
I cut him off, my patience wearing thin. “Justin, I know you don’t like to rock the boat,” I assert, locking eyes with him. “But I’ve been here from the start. Just as much as any of you.” My fingers grip the edge of the podium, the hard surface grounding me.
I might not have been there when they dreamed up the schematics of our future batteries, but without me, those dreams would be ashes. “I might not be engineering the battery, but I’m the one making it possible for you to do that work. I make sure bills are paid on time and you have the supplies you need. And without me, the Automotive Showcase wouldn’t have been nearly as successful.” My voice rises, firm and clear, as if volume can underscore my value to them. “Maybe that’s taken for granted, but it shouldn’t be.” I stand taller, with a surge of defiance. “I’m part of this, and it’s high time that’s recognized.”
The room falls silent, save for the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. I meet each of their gazes, challenging them to refute my claim, daring them to overlook my contributions any longer.
I press on, the momentum of my conviction bolstering my courage. “While you guys were buried in your work, I’m the one who found the homes you bought and are moving into now. Who made sure you weren’t sleeping on the floor? Who made sure you were fed? Who did the legwork and negotiating for the Automotive Showcase demos? Who handles the logistics that you all conveniently never have time for?”
A collective discomfort settles over them, and only Justin meets my gaze. The rest of their eyes shift as if they’re searching for excuses in the corners of the room.
“I’m not here to point fingers, but it’s time for some appreciation. Respect.” I lock eyes with each of them, ensuring my message finds its mark. “Recognition.”
Before anyone can respond, Theo clears his throat, drawing our attention. He stands, his expression serious. “Crystal…” he begins, and I brace myself for more platitudes or empty promises. But what comes next is neither.
“We’ve talked it over with SHN—Mason and Dillon,” he says. “We’ve all agreed that it’s only right…” He pauses, and something like anticipation flickers in his eyes. “The four of us will each give up two percent of our ownership in the company. To you.”
The air is electric. I blink, trying to process what he’s just offered.
“That will make you a minority owner with just under seven percent,” Justin adds. “And, officially, a founder of this company.”
A surge of emotions cascades through me—vindication, shock, pride. I nod, unable to find words just yet.
Austin’s jaw clenches, his eyes scanning the faces around him as if searching for an ally in dissent. But there’s only Rhys, whose shoulders rise and fall with a resigned sigh.
“It’s the right move,” Theo says.
He nods at me, but it’s Justin who holds my focus. “Long overdue,” he echoes.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice filling with emotion. “For standing by me.”
Justin’s smile is small but genuine, a shared secret that speaks of late nights and early mornings, of plans sketched on napkins and dreams spun from the thinnest air. It’s proof that love can be woven into the very foundations of ambition and success.
We’re not just building offices or manufacturing batteries. We’re crafting a legacy. And now, officially, I am a cornerstone of that legacy.