The Life She Stole

"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."