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

Two days later.

Le Bernardin French restaurant.

Victor Corleone sat at a table in the corner, while Edward Lewis sat opposite him.

Edward cut a piece of Wagyu beef and ate it by himself.

"You have good taste in suits, Mr. Corleone." Edward looked Victor in the eye. "Brioni? A bit too flamboyant for a New Jersey chemist, but it fits well."

"Your restaurant has good taste in location, Mr. Lewis," Victor said, taking a sip of his liqueur, "but I prefer my steak a little less bloody."

Edward put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Let's get down to business. I'm a busy person, and you... well, you're a nuisance."

Edward reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a checkbook. He wrote down a number, tore off a check, and handed it over.

Saul Goodman, sitting next to Victor, couldn't help but lean over for a peek. In that instant, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"$50,000,000.00"

Fifty million US dollars. And fifty million in 1982!

Saul's legs trembled slightly. He subtly kicked Victor's shin. The meaning was clear: "Take it! Take the money!"

"Fifty million," Edward said casually, "is buying out your microparticle technology patents, the 'Wat Pharmaceuticals' brand, and your signing of the non-compete agreement. You'll walk out that door today richer than most kings. You can buy an island. Or ten."

Victor stared at the check. The zeros possessed a hypnotic magic. This sum of money was enough for an ordinary person to live a life of extravagance for three lifetimes!

Unfortunately, Victor held up two fingers and pushed the check back.

"That's a generous offer, Edward. Really."

"But?" Edward narrowed his eyes.

"But... um... this is a poisoned candy."

Vic lowered his voice.

"If I sell it to you, you'll lock my patent in a safe and never use it again. You'll continue selling your old-fashioned tranquilizers because they have a higher profit margin. My technology will rightfully die."

"Perhaps, in five years or even less, another generic drug company will emerge with something better, and then you will continue to play out today's scenario."

"That's my problem, not yours," Edward said coldly. "Take the money and disappear."

"I have a better idea," Victor smiled. It was the smile of a wolf proposing cooperation to a sheepdog.

"I'm not selling. And you're not buying."

Edward chuckled dryly. "Then we'll crush you. The lawsuit continues. The PR battle continues. We're much deeper in the pocket than you, Victor. We'll make you bleed to the last drop."

“Or,” Victor ignored the threat, “we can stop fighting. I’ll keep my company. I’ll keep my patents. But I’ll sign a technology licensing agreement with Roche.”

"Authorization?" Edward's interest was piqued.

"I grant Roche the exclusive right to use my microparticle technology to develop next-generation products. In exchange, you will pay me a 5% royalty for every box of medicine you sell."

"Why would we do this?" Edward scoffed. "We have 90% market share."

“Because of generic drugs,” Victor said softly, “the patent freeze is coming, Edward. Every generic drug factory in India and Israel is waiting for this moment; they’ll flood the market with cheap copies. Your prices will drop from $2 to 10 cents.”

"But if you use my technology to launch 'Valium XR' (extended-release version) now, you can switch patients to the new drug before the cliff falls. You'll get a new 20-year patent protection period. You can keep the price at $2. And you'll block generic drugs."

Edward remained silent.

Victor wasn't talking about pharmaceuticals. He was talking about product leapfrogging, a top-tier business strategy for perpetuating a monopoly.

"What about Water Pharmaceuticals?" Edward asked. "Will you become our competitor?"

“No,” Victor shook his head, “we will become your shadow. I agree to limit my production capacity. I will only sell ‘Votalite’ in niche markets that you don’t care about. And I promise that my price will not be lower than yours.”

Saul gasped. "Price manipulation? Victor, that's illegal."

“This isn’t price manipulation,” Edward corrected, a glimmer of admiration appearing in his eyes for the first time. “This is a settlement. An out-of-court settlement of a patent dispute.”

Edward picked up the check for fifty million and put it back in his pocket.

"You're such a greedy little bastard, aren't you?" Edward said, but his tone had changed. It was no longer condescending arrogance, but rather a respect for one's own kind!

"I learned from the best teacher," Victor raised his glass and downed it in a toast!

"That's a reverse payment agreement," Edward leaned back in his chair. "We pay you, in the form of patent fees, which is basically to keep you out of the way, while we both maintain high prices. The FTC (Federal Trade Commission) hates this. The key point is that it's technically legal, haha!"

"It's legal for now," Victor added.

Edward held out his hand. "5% is too high. 3%."

"4.5%," Victor countered, "and I want Roche's distribution rights in South America."

"4%", Edward prepared to begin the tug-of-war.

"Deal." To everyone's surprise, Victor immediately grasped his hand upon hearing the percentage.

"You've got it, Victor! The company will send someone to discuss the formal agreement and details with your lawyer. My mission is complete, I'm leaving now. I admit I underestimated you, Victor."

From the moment their hands clasped, Victor finally became part of the system he claimed to be fighting against. Perhaps "dragon slaying" was just a slogan from the beginning, and becoming the dragon was what he truly wanted—who knows!

After Edward left, Victor slowly began to eat his medium-rare steak.

Welcome to the food chain, Victor!

......

Outside the restaurant.

The winter night wind was biting cold. Saul wrapped his coat tighter around himself, shivering.

"My God, Victor. My God. We just...we just became partners with Rothschild?"

"No, Saul, we're not partners. We're parasites. We've pierced their skin with our blood-sucking mouthparts, and now we're going to suck their blood until we're fat enough to swallow them whole."

"But fifty million..." Saul was still mourning that huge sum of money. "We could have been sunbathing on the beaches of Mexico."

"The beach is for retirees, Saul."

"And our careers are just beginning."