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At Gilead Sciences in the United States, an emergency shareholders’ meeting was underway.
“The total number of people living with HIV/AIDS worldwide has reached 37.9 million, and that number continues to rise every year.”
“The global anti-HIV drug market is highly concentrated and controlled by a small number of companies. Gilead holds a dominant position through several oral medications.”
“Originally, this brought us at least twenty billion dollars in annual revenue, while the global market sits around forty billion.”
“But Umbrella has developed a complete cure. If we do not obtain this treatment quickly, then once it reaches the market, the impact on us will be devastating.”
“By the same logic, if this treatment is in our hands, we will control a vast market of nearly forty million people.”
“And this is a market tied directly to their lives. Imagine the revenue it can bring us.”
“I do not think it would be difficult to multiply the net worth of everyone in this room several times over.”
Gilead’s chief executive gave an extremely tempting speech.
In his eyes, HIV/AIDS patients were a market.
As long as there were patients, there was performance.
How many people died from the disease was not part of the calculation.
If Umbrella officially launched its cure, the existing market would be compressed to the limit.
In Adrian’s eyes, the logic was not entirely different.
Maximizing profit would bring in enough funding.
And building the Umbrella he remembered would require astronomical amounts of money.
When the speech ended, Gilead’s shareholders began offering their opinions.
“We all know the formula is in the hands of Adrian Cross. How do you plan to obtain it?”
“Money,” the chief executive said.
“I need authorization to deploy a large amount of capital. On one side, our laboratories must begin studying this emerging biotechnology at full speed. On the other, we must attempt to acquire the technology from Adrian Cross.”
“How much do you want us to authorize?” the largest shareholder asked, eyes sharpening.
“At least three billion dollars.”
Three billion dollars was no small figure.
The shareholders began considering whether to approve such a massive allocation.
Once spent, their liquid capital would barely be enough to keep the company operating normally.
The risk was enormous.
Scenes like this were happening inside many of the world’s top pharmaceutical companies.
Almost everyone was preparing large amounts of cash, hoping to obtain the new biotechnology capable of curing HIV/AIDS from Adrian.
Of course, everything they did would be futile.
By then, Adrian had finished arranging the Tyrant Guard.
One squad would guard the laboratory, one would guard the factory, and the remaining squad would patrol the company grounds.
The Ivan-type Tyrants looked imposing without appearing inhuman.
To most people, they were simply towering security guards in gray hoodies, masks, and heavy uniforms.
Each uniform carried a large Umbrella logo.
Evelyn was startled when such a security team suddenly appeared.
But considering the scale of the prize Umbrella had just created, the company truly needed a stronger security force.
The explanation was quickly passed down internally to avoid unnecessary panic.
“Evelyn,” Adrian said as they headed toward the factory, “remind me later. When we negotiate with the National Health Insurance Department, we need to request firearm licenses for company security.”
“Would they agree to that?” Evelyn asked after thinking about the regulatory environment.
The idea sounded almost unrealistic.
“They will.” Adrian smiled.
Soon, the two arrived at the factory.
The workshop was spacious, bright, dust-free, and sterile.
The production lines had officially started running.
As the company’s president, Adrian naturally had to inspect them in person.
Even he was surprised when he entered the factory.
The enormous production line made almost no sound.
Transparent glass vials moved along the conveyor belts one after another.
After passing through each machine and station, they were filled, sealed, and completed at remarkable speed.
“Mr. Cross, you are here.”
Dr.
Hart hurried over as soon as he saw Adrian.
“Dr. Hart, you have worked hard,” Adrian said with a smile.
“The three production lines all look smooth.”
“They are. All three are running perfectly.” Dr.
Hart calculated for a moment before continuing.
“At the current speed, running eight hours a day, we can produce fifty thousand doses of the treatment daily.”
Fifty thousand doses a day.
One and a half million doses a month.
The short-term market could absorb far more than that.
As Adrian calculated, Evelyn drew in a sharp breath and blurted, “This is not a production line. It is a money printer. No, even a money printer would not be this fast.”
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