A Mother's Love, A Daughter's Fury

Dorine Koestler

Sci-fi | Completed

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My father, Richard Sterling, built his empire on control, and I, Ava, was just another asset in his meticulously ordered life. My mother, Dr. Eleanor Vance, the brilliant AI ethicist, was deemed inconvenient, a "disaster" to be managed. One day, she was gone, taken by men in dark suits on my father's orders, her privacy twisted into shame. He paraded his new assistant, Charlotte Hayes, her smile triumphant, pregnant with his "new beginning," while my mother lay in the woods, a body identified only by a stranger. He dismissed my pleas, my fears, my desperate attempts to uncover the truth, painting me as hysterical, a nuisance to his carefully crafted narrative. He celebrated on a yacht in the Maldives, sipping champagne, while I clutched a fragmented data drive, a digital breadcrumb trail that whispered of murder, not accident. How could the man who taught me to ride a bike, who promised to never let me fall, betray us so completely? How could society believe his lies and brand my mother an unstable genius? My heart screamed for justice, for the truth to shatter the polished facade of Sterling Dynamics. With the help of my uncle and grandmother, I began to piece together the chilling reality: my mother wasn't just gone, she was silenced, murdered by the very people who claimed to love her. And I would make them pay.

Family Mystery Betrayal Revenge Time traveling

Chapter 10

01-06 21:06

Introduction

My father, Richard Sterling, built his empire on control, and I, Ava, was just another asset in his meticulously ordered life.

My mother, Dr. Eleanor Vance, the brilliant AI ethicist, was deemed inconvenient, a "disaster" to be managed.

One day, she was gone, taken by men in dark suits on my father's orders, her privacy twisted into shame.

He paraded his new assistant, Charlotte Hayes, her smile triumphant, pregnant with his "new beginning," while my mother lay in the woods, a body identified only by a stranger.

He dismissed my pleas, my fears, my desperate attempts to uncover the truth, painting me as hysterical, a nuisance to his carefully crafted narrative.

He celebrated on a yacht in the Maldives, sipping champagne, while I clutched a fragmented data drive, a digital breadcrumb trail that whispered of murder, not accident.

How could the man who taught me to ride a bike, who promised to never let me fall, betray us so completely?

How could society believe his lies and brand my mother an unstable genius?

My heart screamed for justice, for the truth to shatter the polished facade of Sterling Dynamics.

With the help of my uncle and grandmother, I began to piece together the chilling reality: my mother wasn't just gone, she was silenced, murdered by the very people who claimed to love her.

And I would make them pay.