In less than half an hour, Abigail's wrist had completely healed. She rotated her wrist in amazement and asked curiously, "How much are you planning to sell these medical kits for?"
William didn't hesitate. "One hundred thousand dollars per unit."
"You're insane! Who would pay that much?" Abigail exclaimed, staring at him in shock. However, being as sharp as she was, it didn't take her long to figure it out. "Wait, are you planning to market this to professional athletes, spies, and other people in high-risk jobs?"
"Exactly," William nodded, a sly smile on his face. "A product like this has to be priced high. What's the point of competing in the low-end medical market and stepping on the toes of pharmaceutical companies? That would make me public enemy number one."
Abigail nodded thoughtfully. "But how big is the market for athletes and other niche groups? Sticking to only the high-end market seems like we'd lose out on a lot of potential profit."
William shook his head. "There's nothing to regret. Leaving room for others is leaving room for ourselves. For now, we'll position this as cutting-edge medical technology and dominate the high-end market.
"In a few years, we can reassess. If no one manages to reverse-engineer the formula or produce a similar product, we can deal with the troublemakers in the pharmaceutical industry and then release diluted mid- to low-end versions."
"Alright, I guess making a name for ourselves in the high-end market first isn't a bad idea," Abigail said, sighing in agreement. After a moment, a new concern came to her. "Do you have the regulatory approvals needed to sell these? And what about side effects? Are there any risks?"
William chuckled, pulling Abigail onto his lap and giving her a kiss. "Relax. With all the lawyers we've got at Winston & Reed, the legal side is already being handled.
"Besides, this isn't something you ingest. Anthony mentioned that as long as we set up a properly licensed lab, we can sell this under the guise of experimental use. That way, we're not technically offering it to the general public."
"You sneaky devil," Abigail laughed, hugging him and kissing him repeatedly. "So basically, you never intended to sell it to everyone. Doesn't that mean as soon as your lab opens, it'll be valued at least a billion dollars?"
"More than that," William grinned. "Even if I treated just one patient a day, that'd be $36.5 million in revenue a year. And for more serious injuries, this isn't just a $100,000 product—it could go up to $1 million per case.
"On top of that, labs producing groundbreaking results like this aren't valued at the standard 20x price-to-earnings ratio. It's more like 50x or even 100x."
"You're unbelievable! You're going to make another fortune," Abigail said, leaning against him in excitement. After a moment, something seemed to dawn on her. "Oh, right! During yesterday's game, our starting defender Marcel Desailly injured his ankle. If he used one of these medical kits, wouldn't he be fine by tomorrow?"
As the idea struck her, she immediately climbed off William's lap and dashed off without even saying goodbye.
"What's gotten into her?" William muttered, confused.
Not long after, Lena walked over briskly and sat beside him. "Abigail said you've invented something that can rapidly heal injuries?"
She turned to look at Abigail, who eagerly pointed to the medical kit on the coffee table. "It's this! I twisted my wrist while practicing shooting earlier. After just 20 minutes with my hand in the kit, the injury was completely healed."
William rolled his eyes at Abigail for trying to win favor, but under the intense gaze of his mother, he quickly relented. "For a simple ankle sprain, it would probably take an hour or two to heal."
"Then what are you waiting for?" Lena stood up and grabbed William's hand. "Tomorrow's match is crucial. If Marcel Desailly can't play, we'll lose one of our key defenders."
Dragging William along, she added, "If you don't fix this, I'll treat you like I did when you were a disobedient kid and give you a good spanking."
After a moment's thought, Lena said, "I remember seeing a futuristic-looking lab in the castle basement. Should we have the team staff bring Marcel Desailly here to the castle?"
"NO. Don't even think about it. The things in the castle's basement are off-limits to anyone except you," William said firmly.
Glancing at Abigail, who pouted in frustration, William considered for a moment and relented slightly. "If you're curious, Sunday can give you a tour of the first underground level."
Abigail huffed, "I'm not going. I don't want to risk you blaming me if something goes wrong."
That's perfect, William thought. If it weren't for the fact that Abigail had already been exposed to some of his secrets, he wouldn't even let her near the basement, let alone give her a tour.
"First underground level? So there's more than one level beneath the castle? My God, when did you have this built?" Lena asked, pinching William's cheek in frustration. "Don't you know there's a river near the castle? Aren't you worried about water seeping in and collapsing the foundation?"
"Relax, Mom. I guarantee there won't be any problems." William quickly changed the subject. "Sunday, is the lab in the London estate ready for use?"
"Yes, Sir. However, some equipment still requires your assistance to be transported. If everything goes smoothly, the lab will be operational by 5 PM."
"Great. I'll head down to the basement in a bit." Turning to Lena, William said, "The basement at the London estate doesn't have anything particularly sensitive. Setting up a small medical facility there will be both safe and convenient. If you're interested, you can take Abigail and head to London first. I'll join you later."
"Of course I'm interested. This concerns the team's future! If our players don't have to worry about injuries, our performance will be incredibly consistent.
"With our financial resources, we might even attract a superstar player soon," Lena said with excitement.
William shrugged, thinking about Mourinho's penchant for defensive strategies early in his career. Attracting skillful superstar players might not be so easy with that kind of gameplay.
Imagining Chelsea full of burly, unattractive defenders made William want to laugh. Still, finding a fast striker was definitely something Mourinho wouldn't oppose.
"Abigail, let Antonov and his team know that we're heading to London," Lena instructed. Then, looking at William, she asked, "How are you planning to get there? If you're taking the helicopter, I might as well wait and go with you."
William shook his head. "Don't worry about how I'm getting there. Since you're inviting the team captain, you might as well invite Mourinho and the team manager, Kenny, to join you for dinner at the estate."
Knowing her son had secrets he hadn't even shared with her, Lena didn't press further and simply said, "Dinner's at 7 PM. Don't be late."
"No problem. I guarantee I won't be late," William replied, silently thinking, You might not even make it to London before I'm already in the estate's basement.
After watching Lena and Abigail leave the castle, escorted by Antonov's four-man team, William, with plenty of time on his hands, decided not to rush to the basement. Instead, he strolled leisurely to the riverbank outside the castle.
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Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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