American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

The CEO's office at Water Pharmaceuticals, New Jersey.

Victor Corleone sat in the boss's chair, wearing white gloves, carefully examining a small blue cardboard box in his hand.

This is the final packaging for the new product, "V-Valium".

After several design revisions, Victor personally approved the final version, which is now extremely restrained and minimalist: a deep sea blue base with a simple silver curve running through the middle, symbolizing a stable electrocardiogram.

Below, printed in small print: 4-Hour Microparticle Sustained-Release Technology. Sleep well, America.

"So beautiful," Victor murmured to himself.

Old Jack stood to the side, holding a silver tray with a pot of freshly brewed Earl Grey tea. "Young Master, the printing press said the first batch of 50,000 boxes has been received. But..."

"But what?"

"The pharmacies are still observing. They said that Roche's pharmaceutical representatives have been coming to them frequently lately, implying that if they stock our products, it might affect the supply of genuine antiseptic."

Victor sneered. "Standard monopolistic tactics. Channel intimidation. This shows they've taken notice of us."

He cut open the packaging box, revealing an aluminum-plastic blister pack inside. Within each transparent bubble lay a capsule, filled with countless tiny, colorful microbeads.

"Jack, do you know what this is?" Victor held up the capsule and waved it in the sunlight.

"Is it medicine, young master?"

“No. This is technology.” Victor’s eyes gleamed. “Roche’s tranquilizers are like sledgehammers, knocking you unconscious and leaving you with a splitting headache when you wake up. Ours are like cellos. Microparticles with varying coating thicknesses are released in layers throughout the intestines. This is art.”

The office door was pushed open. Saul Goodman walked in.

Normally, this shrewd lawyer would walk with a springy gait. But today, his steps were heavy, and his face was somewhat pale.

He held a fine, thick envelope in his hand. The paper was heavy-weight linen paper.

On the corner of the envelope, the gold-plated logo gleamed aggressively in the sunlight: Sullivan & Cromwell LLP.

"Trouble's brewing, Victor!"

"Big trouble."

Victor glanced at the envelope, but didn't open it. Instead, he put the capsule back in the box.

"Sullivan & Cromwell? That Wall Street law firm that represented JPMorgan Chase and ExxonMobil? Pretty big."

"Open it and take a look." Saul took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. "Or don't open it, I can just recite it to you. It's a Cease and Desist Letter. A 50-page letter."

Only then did Victor remove his white gloves and pick up the envelope. He opened the seal and pulled out a thick stack of documents.

Regarding: Patent infringement / Roche's lawsuit against Wot Pharmaceuticals.

Legal jargon is as dense as a spider web, suffocating. But the core meaning is simple, just four points:

1. Immediately cease production and sales of "Wotean".

2. Destroy all inventory and production molds.

3. Pay $1000 million in damages for patent infringement.

4. Publish a public apology statement on the front page of The New York Times.

“They gave us 72 hours.” Saul paced back and forth in the room. “Victor, this isn’t a warning, this is a declaration of war. Do you know who drafted it? I saw the signature; it’s their senior partner. These guys usually only handle multi-billion dollar mergers and acquisitions.”

Victor casually flipped through the documents. "Ten million dollars... They really think highly of me."

"They want to kill you!" Saul slammed his hand on the table, roaring incoherently. "This is a 'scorched earth policy,' Victor! It's the classic business law tactic. They don't care about winning or losing; they just want to drown you in lawsuits! I had anticipated this, but I didn't expect them to be this direct, leaving no room for negotiation from the very beginning!"

Saul started counting on his fingers, his eyes wide: "First, they'll apply for a 'temporary injunction' to freeze your assets. Then, they'll launch a massive 'disclosure of evidence,' demanding that we provide every email, every invoice, every page of lab notes from the past five years. They have three hundred lawyers in their Manhattan building, and we only have... me."

"We can't win, Victor," Thor pleaded almost desperately. "We have to make peace. Maybe if we hand over the formula, they'll allow us to keep the factory..."

"reconciliation?"

Victor looked up. There was no fear in his eyes, only a mocking smile.

"Saul, you're looking at this like a lawyer. You're calculating the number of soldiers on both sides."

"Because that's how wars are fought!"

"No."

"This is how war is fought. But this is not just a battle. This is a game."

He walked back to the table, picked up the heavy legal document, and weighed it in his hand.

“Fifty pages.” Victor chuckled. “They spent… well, I guess a few weeks, drafting this. Hired the most expensive law firm on Wall Street, a team of dozens of people. Just to intimidate a small factory in New Jersey, a small company that hasn’t even sold a single box of medicine.”

"What does this tell us, Thor?"

Thor blinked, somewhat confused by Victor's train of thought. "So they're angry?"

"No." Victor flicked his wrist and threw the lawyer's letter into the trash can.

boom!

"That means they were terrified!"

"Scared?" Thor's mouth dropped open.

"If 'Vortex' were just a cheap counterfeit, they wouldn't have bothered with Sullivan & Cromwell. They would have used their connections to get a few FDA inspectors to shut them down." Victor's voice lowered. "They're using a cannon to kill a mosquito because they know the mosquito carries a deadly virus. Our microparticle technology makes their patents worthless."

Victor's dark eyes seemed to hold a swirling abyss.

"They know their 'stability' is outdated garbage. They're afraid the market will realize that too."

"Then... what do we do?" Thor asked weakly. "Ignore it?"

"Oh, no. We'll reply."

Victor sat back in his chair, pulled out a brand new sheet of paper, and picked up his pen.

"Saul, I need you to draft a complaint. We will not respond to their patent infringement allegations."

"Should we not respond?"

"Yes. We're going to countersue!" Victor's voice suddenly rose. "We're going to sue Roche for violating the Sherman Antitrust Act. We're going to accuse them of abusing the patent system, hindering innovation, and depriving American patients of their right to access safer, better, and cheaper drugs."

Saul's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "Victor... are you crazy? You want to sue Roche for monopoly? That's like suing God and demanding compensation for damage caused by bad weather!"

"And I want you to leak the lawsuit to the media before you even file it in court," Victor continued, completely ignoring Saul's breakdown. "I want headlines. I want the 'David vs. Goliath' story. I want every American grandmother to know that Roche is bullying a small, innovative company because they're afraid of competition."

"They want a legal battle?" Victor laughed. "Then I'll give them a public relations battle."

"But the lawyer's fees..." Saul stammered.

"Don't worry about the money. The foundation's money can still hold out!" Victor picked up the blue box of Vortis again. "And when the news breaks, I'm sure our orders will triple. People always sympathize with the weak. Especially the weak who can give them a good night's sleep."

He glanced at the lawyer's letter in the trash can.

"They want a scorched earth policy? Fine. Let's see who gets burned first."