Her Legacy, My Fight

Name: Her Legacy, My Fight
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Gavin

Short stories | Completed

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The first call came as a familiar comfort, my mentor Professor Anya Sharma' s name on the screen, a stable part of my solitary life, her lab my sanctuary. Then, her voice shattered that peace – a choked whisper, tight with a fear I' d never heard, followed by a man's angry shout, a crash of glass, and dead silence. I rushed to the police, my heart hammering, only to be met by Detective Miller' s dismissive skepticism as he took down details of Anya' s research and the powerful CEO, Damien Vance, pressuring her. Hours later, standing over Anya' s body in the morgue, the official explanation of a botched robbery felt like a cruel joke; the specific, brutal injuries screaming of a deliberate execution, not a random mugging. My grief curdled into a cold, hard rage, a chilling certainty that Damien Vance was behind it, a suspicion Miller coldly brushed aside, reminding me I had no proof against one of the city's most powerful men. Then, the trap sprung: a grainy security photo of me at the crime scene, my fingerprints everywhere, painting me as the prime suspect in the murder of the woman I loved like a mother. My apartment was tossed, not for valuables, but for Anya's encrypted hard drive, her life's work, the dangerous truth she died to protect, now clutched in my trembling hands. Hunted, isolated, and accused, a single, burning thought solidified: If the system wouldn' t deliver justice, I would find it myself, even if it meant stepping into the lion's den. I walked into the charity gala, a ghost in a borrowed dress, offering myself as a pawn to Damien Vance, becoming his personal assistant, willing to sacrifice everything to destroy him from within.

Crime Thriller Mystery Revenge CEO

Chapter 8

06-27 16:50

Introduction

The first call came as a familiar comfort, my mentor Professor Anya Sharma' s name on the screen, a stable part of my solitary life, her lab my sanctuary.

Then, her voice shattered that peace – a choked whisper, tight with a fear I' d never heard, followed by a man's angry shout, a crash of glass, and dead silence.

I rushed to the police, my heart hammering, only to be met by Detective Miller' s dismissive skepticism as he took down details of Anya' s research and the powerful CEO, Damien Vance, pressuring her.

Hours later, standing over Anya' s body in the morgue, the official explanation of a botched robbery felt like a cruel joke; the specific, brutal injuries screaming of a deliberate execution, not a random mugging.

My grief curdled into a cold, hard rage, a chilling certainty that Damien Vance was behind it, a suspicion Miller coldly brushed aside, reminding me I had no proof against one of the city's most powerful men.

Then, the trap sprung: a grainy security photo of me at the crime scene, my fingerprints everywhere, painting me as the prime suspect in the murder of the woman I loved like a mother.

My apartment was tossed, not for valuables, but for Anya's encrypted hard drive, her life's work, the dangerous truth she died to protect, now clutched in my trembling hands.

Hunted, isolated, and accused, a single, burning thought solidified: If the system wouldn' t deliver justice, I would find it myself, even if it meant stepping into the lion's den.

I walked into the charity gala, a ghost in a borrowed dress, offering myself as a pawn to Damien Vance, becoming his personal assistant, willing to sacrifice everything to destroy him from within.