The meeting was set in a place chosen carefully for neutrality—
a private lounge on the top floor of a business hotel, glass walls, dim lights, no visible cameras.
Dustin arrived alone.
No lawyers.
No entourage.
Just confidence.
Across the table sat three men.
One did the talking.
One watched.
One smiled without warmth.
The man in the center leaned forward first.
"Mr. Dustin," he said smoothly, "thank you for coming. Let's not waste time. We both know why we're here."
Dustin nodded.
"Then say it plainly."
The man smiled.
"Our clients believe PingMe's core concept overlaps with proprietary research they funded years ago. A legal dispute helps no one. So—we're offering a clean resolution."
He slid a thin folder across the table.
"Partial ownership. Minority stake. We close the notice quietly. No headlines."
Dustin didn't touch the folder.
"No," he said calmly.
The smile faded—just a fraction.
"You should reconsider. Even a small ownership acknowledgment reframes the entire narrative."
Dustin leaned back.
"There is no narrative where we give shares to people who didn't build a single line of code."
Silence.
The man exchanged a glance with the one who had been watching quietly.
Then the tone changed.
"Very well," the man said, voice cooling. "If ownership is off the table… then perhaps compensation."
"How much?" Dustin asked.
The man didn't hesitate.
"Ten crores."
The number landed deliberately.
"Call it a licensing settlement. One-time payment. We withdraw all claims. Everyone walks away intact."
Dustin smiled—slow, controlled.
"So this was never about ideas," he said. "Just money."
The man shrugged lightly.
"This is business."
Dustin's smile vanished.
"No," he said. "This is extortion."
The man's eyes narrowed.
"Careful, Mr. Dustin."
Dustin stood.
"Careful is pretending you have leverage," he said evenly. "You don't."
One of the men finally spoke—the quiet watcher.
"You're underestimating how damaging uncertainty can be. Courts may take time, but perception—"
"—moves faster," Dustin finished for him. "Yes. You already said that."
He adjusted his coat.
"Here's what you got wrong," Dustin continued. "You assumed we'd panic. You assumed we'd pay to stay quiet. And you assumed we didn't know exactly who you are."
That made them pause.
Dustin picked up the folder at last—only to close it and place it back on the table.
"No shares. No money. No settlement."
The lead man's voice hardened.
"Then this becomes public."
Dustin nodded once.
"Then make sure your story is airtight," he said. "Because ours is."
He turned and walked out.
Later that night, Dustin called PK.
"They asked for shares first," he reported. "When I refused, they asked for ten crores. Straight cash."
PK listened silently.
"And?" PK asked.
"I walked away."
A soft exhale from PK—almost amused.
"Good," PK said. "That confirms it."
"Confirms what?" Dustin asked.
"That they're not owners," PK replied. "They're brokers. Someone else is funding their courage."
Dustin hesitated.
"There's more," he added. "One of them slipped. Mentioned pressure from… 'above.' Didn't say names."
PK's tone sharpened slightly.
"They will soon."
A pause.
"From now on," PK continued, "don't take their calls immediately. Let them wait. Fear grows best in silence."
Dustin nodded even though PK couldn't see it.
"What's next?" he asked.
PK looked out the window of his room at Law Manor, the city quiet beneath him.
"Now," he said, "they make a mistake."
The call ended.
Somewhere else, in another quiet room, a man named Leonard was already moving pieces—
thinking he was invisible,
thinking pressure would force compliance.
He was wrong.
And the game had just shifted from negotiation
to exposure.