Mr. Olson's tone remained calm and measured, almost as if Winnie were the one trying to take advantage.
Mrs. Olson chimed in, "That's right. Your mother's patent is a hot potato. You'd be wise to listen to us—taking something tangible is far safer."
Winnie's voice was low. "You want my mother's patent to sell it to Olympus?"
"Winnie…" Mrs. Olson began.
"You want to sell my mother's property to Olympus, help them snatch resources from the Morrison Group, and then, when the Morrison Group falls, come to me—a lowly employee who can only rely on the Morrison Group—to settle accounts?" Winnie's words dripped with sarcasm, piercing straight to the heart of their intentions.
Mrs. Olson's face flushed red; Mr. Olson's jaw clenched in anger.
"It's not selling—it's cooperation. Olympus has royal connections and international resources. Your mother's patent can only reach its full potential in their hands. Do you want it to rot forever in a custodial account?"
Mrs. Olson sighed and quickly shifted to a tone of earnest persuasion. Winnie, however, clearly sensed that explanation alone wouldn't sway her. She had no choice but to play her hand openly.
"That is my property," Winnie said, her voice suddenly icy. "What my mother left me—whether it rots or thrives—it is mine. You have no right to decide for me!"
"Winnie, you're close to the Morrison family now, but can they protect you forever? They aren't omnipotent, neither is the Hunt family. And now that Khloe and Nick are out of the country, do you think Khloe even has the time or mind to look after you?"
Mrs. Olson's voice was warm with concern, but beneath the surface, it carried a clear threat.
"Enough," Winnie said, her eyes steady. She slammed the documents onto the table. "I renounce all my other property. I only want this patent. I'm being more than reasonable."
A tense silence filled the room.
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