The Life She Stole

My mom stole my dad's name and his status as the top-ranked student in the state, then gave them to her childhood sweetheart. From then on, the two thieves soared to the top. One was admitted to Ashford University and went on to become a computer science professor at one of the country's top universities. The other attended Westbridge University and became a nationally recognized expert in education. … Meanwhile, my dad was left without a legal identity, spending his entire life scraping by through odd jobs and backbreaking labor. Years later, I inherited his talent and founded a leading AI technology company, making a name for myself in the industry. Potential partners were constantly coming to me with offers. One company, in particular, approached me several times seeking a partnership. The contract they offered was tempting, with generous terms and impeccable credentials. I casually flipped through their background information. But when I reached the page introducing the founder, my hand stopped. After a long silence, I finally said slowly, “Forget it. I won’t work with you.” Chapter 1 The Deal Is Off "What?" Eugene Carter froze, staring at me in disbelief. I looked at my half-brother and tore the contract to shreds. The torn pieces came raining down over Eugene, scattering across his face and clothes. I leaned back in my chair, watching the smug look on his face instantly turn to rage. My voice was cold. "Evercore Technology will never get a single license from Starcrest Group." Eugene stood there for a full three seconds before he finally snapped out of it. "Daniel, are you fucking insane? Do you have any idea what happens when you piss off my dad? My dad can wipe out the company you spent ten years building overnight!" He kicked the chair aside and stormed out, slamming the door so hard that the glass on my desk rattled. The shareholders waiting outside erupted instantly. They swarmed into my office and crowded around my desk, every face more livid than the last. "Daniel, have you lost your mind? That's $300 million! You tear up a deal like that without blinking? Are you allergic to money?" "Eugene's father is Professor Morgan at Ashford University! Cross him, and every university partnership we have is finished! Can you take responsibility for that?" "You owe us an explanation today. Otherwise, we're starting the process to remove you!" The shouting filled the room, but my voice remained perfectly steady. "In one week, I'll give every one of you an answer." They tried to keep arguing, but I stood up and walked straight into the adjoining lounge, locking the door behind me. I opened a drawer and pulled out a manila envelope. Inside was every piece of evidence proving that my father’s identity and achievement had been stolen—his original college-choice records, a statement from his high school homeroom teacher, and recordings from people who had known what happened back then. I looked at the old examination document from 1996. Its edges were frayed with age, but the embossed seal was still clearly visible. The boy in the photograph was the real Dylan Morgan. I ran my fingers over the document for a long time. The boy in the photograph slowly gave way to the man I remembered—the man who had hauled bags of cement under the blazing sun at construction sites, made deliveries through the bitter winter cold, and rarely spoke, with a jagged scar across his forehead. My throat tightened. I carefully put everything away. "Dad, we're almost there." … The next morning, I walked through the company's doors. The administrative director was waiting outside my office, her face ghostly pale. "Mr. Morgan, we have a problem." Her voice trembled so badly that it was nearly breaking. "The industry-academia partnerships we signed with 17 universities across the country were all suspended overnight. And the regulatory approval for our AI education products has been put on indefinite hold. "Professor Morgan at Ashford University personally put in a word with the Department of Education." Just as I expected. My phone kept vibrating in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I saw more than 400 messages in the shareholders' group chat, all of them were criticizing me for being foolish—passing up $300 million and picking a fight with one of the biggest names in the industry instead. Evan Mitchell, one of our investors, called right after that. "Daniel, I don't care what personal grudge you have against Professor Morgan. If you can't resolve the certification issue within three days, we'll start the process of withdrawing our investment immediately. You'll pay back the full $200 million, plus interest, and you'll owe us another $30 million as a penalty for breach of contract." I hung up and looked at the administrative director. My voice was calm. "Don't worry. Someone else will come knocking." Sure enough, half an hour later, the front desk called. "Mr. Morgan, a woman named Lauren Bennett is here to see you. She claims to be Professor Morgan's wife." Chapter 2 The Cost of Refusal I raised an eyebrow and motioned for her to come in. The door opened, and Lauren walked in. Each pearl on the necklace around her neck was perfectly round, and her tailored skirt suit accentuated her refined, gentle demeanor. The moment she entered, she handed me a business card, her smile polished, with just a hint of the condescension of someone accustomed to being above others. "Mr. Morgan, it's a pleasure. My name is Lauren Bennett, a shareholder of Evercore Technology." She smiled again, the expression perfectly practiced but devoid of warmth. "Eugene was out of line yesterday. He's young, and he doesn't always know better. I wanted to apologize on his behalf." She paused, watching for my reaction. When she saw that my expression remained impassive, even that perfunctory smile faded, and her tone turned cold. "Of course, we at Evercore Technology aren't unreasonable. We do value Starcrest Group's technology. The terms can be renegotiated. But Mr. Morgan, in business, it's unwise to be too aggressive. It can come back to hurt you. If you insist on refusing to work with us…" She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice, each word perfectly clear. "I guarantee that you and your company won't have a place in this industry anymore." The threat was naked and icy. But the next second, her tone softened strangely, taking on the effortless pride and indulgence of a mother showing off her beloved son. "Eugene was spoiled by us, but he's a good kid at heart. He's smart and ambitious. You're young and accomplished, Mr. Morgan. Don't hold it against him. We only have one son, so naturally, we're going to be a little protective of him." Her words felt like barbed hooks digging into my ears. I suddenly remembered that bitter winter when I was eight. A draft came through the window. My fever had climbed to 103.6 degrees, my face burning red. I was so delirious I barely had the strength to cry. My father clutched the only few dollars he had in his pocket and took me to a local clinic, only to find that we couldn't afford the medicine. With no other choice, he called my biological mother, Lauren. But the voice on the other end simply said, "A child who never should have existed? If he dies, he dies." By then, she'd already settled down with Connor Carter in Westbridge, enjoying the enviable life of a professor's wife. I burned with fever all night, nearly suffering permanent damage. In the end, the elderly woman next door gave me half a fever reducer, saving me from the brink. And now she stood before me, doting on the son of the man who had taken everything from my father. She didn't even recognize me. I shoved the emotions aside and let nothing show. I looked up and met her gaze. "Are you done?" Lauren visibly froze, clearly not expecting that reaction from me. Then, the corner of her mouth curved into an expression laced with mockery and pity. "Success seems to have gone to your head, Mr. Morgan. You've forgotten how to show your elders some respect, and you've lost sight of what's important. I'm not here to beg you for anything. I'm giving you and Starcrest Group one last chance to make the right choice." I pressed the intercom. "Security, please escort this woman out." Two security guards quickly entered. Lauren's expression finally changed. She shot me a furious look and snatched up her purse. She still tried to maintain her graceful composure, but she could no longer conceal the chill in her voice. "Fine. Very well. Daniel, remember the choice you made today. Three days. That's all it will take for you to understand exactly what it costs to refuse the Carter family." The moment Lauren left, my assistant rushed in, panic written all over his face. "Mr. Morgan, we have a problem! We just got calls from 12 of our project contacts. They said every smart-campus project we previously won has been suspended. The contractual penalties alone are going to cost us more than $86 million!" I nodded, letting him know I understood. … I was jolted awake in the early hours of the next morning by a call from the head of PR, her voice thick with tears. "Mr. Morgan, you need to look at social media!" The hashtags #DanielMorganIsAPlagiarist, #StarcrestGroupStoleAITechnology and #TraitorDanielMorgan were already dominating the trends. The most popular post was a lengthy article packed with text and images, claiming that Starcrest Group's core large language model architecture had been plagiarized from research by a leading laboratory in Astoria. It accused me of accepting funding from foreign interests, attempting to monopolize the country's foundational AI infrastructure, and deliberately suppressing Evercore Technology, a patriotic company with fully independent intellectual property. Chapter 3 The Day of Reckoning More than 200,000 comments had piled up, most of them cursing me. I had barely put down my phone when a notice from the administration popped up. "An emergency shareholders' meeting will be held in ten minutes." I grabbed a jacket and headed for the conference room. The moment I pushed open the door, more than 20 shareholders turned to stare at me, every face gloomier than the last. Leo Parker, the second-largest shareholder, threw the $300-million partnership offer Evercore Technology had previously sent us right in front of me. "Daniel, you fucking idiot! You had $300 million sitting right in front of you, and instead of taking it, you pissed off Professor Morgan from Ashford University and screwed up every single university partnership we had! "Either you sign this contract right now and apologize to Professor Morgan, or all of us shareholders will remove you as CEO!" The others immediately joined in. Some slammed their hands against the table while others hurled insults. The conference room descended into chaos. I stared at the crumpled contract at my feet. Then I bent down, picked it up, and tore it to pieces right in front of all the shareholders. The scraps fluttered across Leo's face. I looked at his twisted expression, my voice cold as ice. "Even if Starcrest Group goes into bankruptcy and liquidation, I will never work with Evercore Technology." Leo froze for three seconds before exploding. "Fine! We'll start the removal process right now!" The moment he finished speaking, my assistant came rushing through the door, clutching an overnight express envelope. "Mr. Morgan, the investors' official withdrawal notice is here! They're demanding that we repay $200 million within three days, plus $30 million in penalties! The bank has already withdrawn all our available cash. We can't even make next month's payroll!" The conference room fell silent. The seven executives sitting in the front row exchanged glances. One by one, they placed their resignation letters on the conference table in front of me. "Mr. Morgan, I'm sorry. We still have mortgages to pay and kids to support. We can't afford to stick around." "You offended Professor Morgan. There's no future for us if we stay with you." … In less than ten minutes, the conference room was completely empty. I was the only one left, sitting in the chair at the head of the table. The door opened softly. My dad stood in the doorway, carrying a stainless-steel insulated food container. He was wearing an old blue work uniform that had been washed so many times the color had faded. The old scar on his forehead—the one he'd gotten years ago when he fell trying to scrape together my college tuition—was especially visible in the sunlight. The moment he saw me in such a miserable state, the smile on his face froze. He set the container on my desk and opened the lid. Inside was my favorite glazed pork belly, still steaming. He took my ice-cold hand in his. The calluses on his rough palms rubbed painfully into my wrist as his voice trembled. "You haven't eaten yet, have you? I made you some pork. It's still warm. Eat something…" His voice grew hoarse. "Danny…" He looked at me and let out a long sigh. "Danny, we can't beat them. I tried once before. It didn't work. They have money and influence. We just have to accept it. I don't expect anything anymore. I just want you to be safe…" He lowered his head, his shoulders slumped. It was the exhaustion and despair of a man who had spent decades crushed beneath the weight of life, until every bit of his hope and fighting spirit had been worn away. It wasn't that he didn't want to fight. He'd simply paid the price once before, and it had hurt too much. Too much for him to let me pay it a second time. I looked at his graying hair, his back no longer as straight as it once was, the ingrained grime on his hands that no amount of washing could remove, and the scar at his temple that he'd gotten because of me. He'd hauled bags of cement at a construction site in 104-degree heat just because I'd casually mentioned that I wanted to study computer science. He'd hit his head so badly that he needed 12 stitches, yet he'd smiled and told me, "It doesn't hurt. Now you've got your tuition." All the suffering, humiliation, and injustice he'd endured his entire life came from those two thieves, who had stolen his life away as if it were nothing. How could I possibly let it go? I stood and opened the safe behind me, pulling out the brown envelope I'd kept locked away for ten years. I shoved it into my dad's hands, gripping them so tightly my fingertips went numb. My voice was as firm as stone. "Dad, I've been preparing for ten years, just waiting for this day. This time, I'm going to make them pay back everything they owe you—with interest."