Semua Bab His To Take: Bab 11 - Bab 20

The storm outside was fading.But inside Ava, something new had begun.She stood over Subject 03, chest heaving, blood on her hands all of it hers.The girl wasn’t dead.Just broken.Still breathing, barely moving, and for the first time unsure.Ava stepped back, clutching her ribs. Pain bloomed across her side, but she didn’t fall. Not yet.Luca approached from behind her, gun still in hand, eyes locked on the girl on the floor.“Is it over?” he asked.“No,” Ava said. “She’s just the delivery system.”Luca frowned. “For what?”Ava looked down at Subject 03, then toward the hall, where the destroyed chandelier still sparked and smoked in pieces.“For the final upload.”In the control room beneath the estate, deep underground, a blinking red light began to pulse.CODE SEQUENCE COMPLETE.VAULT ACCESS UNLOCKED.Dataraw, unfiltered, deeply encrypted began flowing from a hidden neural relay in Ava’s subconscious into the estate’s server core. The Program’s deepest secrets were finally surf

They didn’t speak until they were halfway down the mountain.The black SUV tore through the backroads, Luca at the wheel, jaw tight, eyes scanning for tail cars or drones. Ava sat in the passenger seat, her fingers curled around the last drive they hadn’t burned.In the backseat, Subject 03 stared out the window like she was still calculating what she was now that she wasn’t someone’s weapon.The safe house was gone. Compromised. Ava didn’t flinch. She didn’t look back.Let them take it.She had what she needed.And they had just made their last mistake.In the city, the failed hit sent shockwaves.It wasn’t publicyet. But the people who mattered? The ones whose names were in Ava’s files? They knew.One operative is dead. Two wounded. One missing.And Ava? Gone. Again.Worsealive, talking, and gathering leverage.In a penthouse three floors below the Program’s last clean server hub, an emergency meeting was underway. Seven faces. All shadowed. All powerful.“She’s not leaking randomly

It started with a headline.SINCLAIR FILES UNDER FIRE Memory “Survivor” or High-Level Fraud?Then came the broadcasts.Clipped interviews. Spliced footage. Photos from college. Twisted timelines.Suddenly Ava wasn’t a whistleblower she was a calculated manipulator, a woman scorned, a career-obsessed fraud with “mental instability” flagged in a sealed medical file from when she was seventeen.A file she’d never seen.A file she’d never signed.And suddenly it was everywhere.Ava stood in the center of her old apartmentsparse, quiet, untouched since the leak went live. The lights were off. The news played from a muted screen.Luca stood in the kitchen, jaw tight, scrolling through his phone.“They’re framing it as a psych episode,” he said. “Discrediting you through sympathy.”“Classic,” Ava said. “Make me look broken so they don’t have to look guilty.”She dropped her bag on the couch and pulled off her jacket.“They pulled medical records,” she added. “Ones they sealed.”“They’re des

The video went live at 7:03 a.m.No press release. No teaser. No context.Just a quiet upload, shared from Ava’s page with a single line beneath the thumbnail:“The mother. The signature. The silence.”It hit like a slow explosion.First, silence.Then clicks.Then shares.Then fire.Inside Ava’s apartment, the blinds were still drawn. The glow from her laptop lit the room more than the sun outside ever could. She sat motionless in front of the screen, one hand wrapped around a lukewarm mug of untouched coffee.Across the screen:Her mother’s face.Her voice.The things Ava had waited her entire life to hear and not hear.The confessions. The guilt. The justifications. The way Naomi had folded her hands was as if Ava might still believe she was doing her best.But what cut deepest wasn’t the betrayal.It was how calm Naomi had looked saying it.Ava hadn’t spoken since the upload. She hadn’t needed to.The world was speaking for her now.Notifications poured in.Mentions. Reposts. Jour

The message dropped at 10:01 a.m. Eastern.No warning.No leaks.No press buildup.Just a single video file is uploaded to every major news outlet simultaneously. No watermark. No traceable server. No delay.Title: “The Founder Speaks.”The thumbnail was simple Hart, seated in a black suit, white shirt, no tie. Hands folded. Expression calm. The background was sterile. No windows. No timestamp.He looked straight into the camera. And for the first time in nearly two decades, the ghost spoke.“There has been a great deal of noise recently,” he began. “Accusations. Speculation. Emotional reactions dressed up as fact.”He didn’t blink.“So let me clarify a few things.”Ava watched from Luca’s apartmenther hair still damp, adrenaline still high from tearing through the archives an hour ago. Subject 03 paced near the kitchen, her body language tense, like her training was trying to kick in.Onscreen, Gabriel Hart spoke without hesitation.“Yes, The Program existed. Yes, it was sanctioned.