They once chuckled at me, saying it wouldn't work, that no one required something like this, but presently they're all lining up, frantic to imitate what I've built; they need a chunk, a escape clause, a way around it, but they can't have it.
Not without my say. The ink on the reports is scarcely dry, but the offers—from organizations, speculators, and indeed previous associates who once expelled me—have as of now begun to pour in. It's funny how the world changes after you claim something profitable.
They thought I was a trick, tinkering absent in my small workshop, chasing a dream no one may see, but presently they see it, and they need it. I seem offer, take the money, let them mass-produce my creation, or I might hold up, make them sweat a small longer, and let the value rise until they have no choice but to pay my cost. Be that as it may, this isn't close to cash; it's approximately demonstrating a point.
The control is euphoric. I make the choices for the primary time. Who picks up get to, who makes cash, and who is put on the sidelines are all choices I make. since the obvious has a place to me. I win as a result.