Sterling Called A Board Meeting And Lost His Chair

“Can he cancel it?” I asked.

“He can ask his board,” Priya said. “He can't cancel the court's order by sending an email.”

For two days, the temporary order had kept the seed in place. Now the money needed to keep it alive was the lever Sterling had left.

His board notice proposed ending research spending, laying off the remaining lab staff, and suing the cooperative for blocking the sale.

He copied me. Under my name, he wrote Former Employee.

Priya forwarded it to Mara and Rillbank's outside counsel.

“Please confirm how sample care will continue under the preservation order,” she wrote.

That was all. No speech. No threat in capital letters.

At one, the third Rillbank director arrived in Boise. Leona Kerr represented the company's largest investor. She had been on a flight when the closing stopped.

She asked to inspect the original agreement before the board met.

We met her in the same conference room where Sterling had offered to buy me off through Owen. This time, she brought a board secretary and a printed list of questions.

“Why didn't our copy include these pages?” she asked.

“We supplied the complete license at signing,” Priya said. “Here is the delivery receipt.”

“And this amendment?”

“Audrey denies signing it. The cooperative never approved it. Here are the source documents for the copied signatures.”

Leona compared the loop after my name on both pages.

“May our outside examiner review these?”

“Yes, with copies and the custody record.”

The examiner had already received the company's device records by agreement with counsel. An hour later, she confirmed that the amendment had been assembled under Sterling's user account. His email to Owen called it the final replacement license and directed him to use it for closing.

It was evidence, not a verdict. But the board did not need a trial to decide whom it trusted to run the company.

I waited downstairs while the directors met. Priya stayed with me. Rain had stopped, and sunlight fell across a strip of lobby tile.

“I thought I'd feel better by now,” I said.

“You're tired.”

“I thought revenge would involve less sitting.”

“Only poorly planned revenge. Ours has lumbar support.”

I laughed hard enough to draw a look from the security guard.

At 4:20, Owen came down.

“Two to one,” he said. “Sterling is out as chief executive. Leona is interim chair. They're hiring a manager for the sale.”

“The program?” I asked.

“Still funded. Staff stay through closing.”

He sat two chairs away from me.

“I signed those revenue reports,” he said. “I accepted his labels. I should have checked.”

I didn't tell him it was fine.

“The growers paid for that,” I said.

“I know.”

He had agreed to return a $25,000 retention bonus and resign after handing the books to an outside accountant. His lawyer had made clear that cooperating did not erase his part in the bad reporting.

Upstairs, Sterling tried to dismiss the meeting as invalid. The secretary produced the notice, the quorum record, and the company bylaws. His shares gave him a vote, but they did not give him control of the board.

By evening, company counsel confirmed the removal in writing. Sterling's building access ended, just as mine had.

I learned that from a notice. I was glad I hadn't been there to watch.

Instead, I called the lab. Ben put the shipping manager on the phone, and she read the day's chamber log to me.

“Still growing?” I asked.

“Rows of them.”

She asked whether the staff would be paid on Friday. I read her the board's written funding notice and sent a copy. She thanked me for sending the paper. She had heard enough promises that week.

Negotiations lasted four more business days. The independent review confirmed the $1.26 million in unpaid cooperative fees. The buyer approved the revised license and the $310,000 remaining trial budget.

Sterling had separate counsel by then. To settle the civil claims over the false amendment and threatened interference, he agreed to pay $180,000 from his sale proceeds toward the cooperative's losses and legal costs.

He also signed a statement that the amendment had not been authorized by me or the cooperative and could not be used.

His lawyer called it a practical business decision.

I called it a useful piece of paper.

Rillbank agreed to pay me $78,000 to resolve my employment and research-credit claims. Morrowbend's job offer remained on its own page, at the salary I had proposed.

Nothing became final until the cooperative board approved the complete package. Priya sent every member a plain summary of the money and the rights they would keep.

On the Friday of the following week, Elsie called while I was washing my coffee cup.

“The members have voted,” she said. “Bring the original. We've got a closing to finish.”