After Launching My AI Startup, My Father Demanded I Hand Over a Core Module to His Son — He Didn't Know I Was Recording
My office door creaked open, and Leo Chen, my young intern, poked his head in. His eyes, usually bright with youthful enthusiasm, were wide with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
“Maya? Do you have a moment?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I looked up from my desk, where I had been trying to unravel the mystery of Owen’s cryptic code snippet. “Of course, Leo. Come in.”
He walked over, clutching his laptop like a precious artifact. “I was going through some old project archives, looking for deprecated code modules, like you asked.”
“Good work,” I encouraged, though my mind was still on “Project Chimera.”
“Well, I stumbled onto something… strange,” he continued, placing his laptop on my desk and turning it to face me. “Something that was clearly deleted, but I managed to recover some fragments from an old server backup.”
My attention sharpened. Deleted documents were rarely good news, especially in a company run by Arthur. The specific, mundane object of a “deleted file” carried immense weight here.
“What is it?” I asked, leaning closer.
He pointed to the screen. “It’s a market analysis report. Commissioned by Arthur, about a year and a half ago. It’s titled ‘Phoenix AI Viability Study and Strategic Outlook’.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. A market analysis report on *Phoenix AI*, commissioned by Arthur, over a year ago? Before I had even fully conceptualized the Sentient Learning Module, let alone launched the product?
Leo clicked a few times, navigating through the recovered fragments. The report was disturbingly thorough, analyzing the nascent AI market, projecting Phoenix AI’s potential revenue streams, and detailing its predicted massive success. Every projection was terrifyingly accurate.
“It gets worse,” Leo said, his voice dropping. He scrolled down, highlighting a specific section. “This part. It’s titled ‘Succession Plan: Post-Launch Leadership Transition’.”
The words on the screen blurred, then snapped into chilling focus. The section outlined a detailed strategy for Owen Beaumont to “assume a prominent leadership role” at Phoenix AI, specifically as CEO, “once the product achieves market stability and profitability.” It even included specific milestones and a timeline for my “transition” out of the CEO position into a purely technical role.
My breath caught in my throat. My father had commissioned a report, over a year ago, meticulously detailing his plan to steal my company and replace me with Owen. This wasn’t a sudden opportunistic move; it was a cold, calculated, long-term conspiracy. This was the specific, personal cruelty: he had planned my professional demise with a detached, clinical precision.
The paper, a mundane corporate document, was a weapon. It laid bare his intentions, making his earlier claims of “stress-induced” concerns and “family guidance” seem utterly transparent and vile.
“He planned this,” I whispered, the words barely audible. “From the very beginning.”
Leo nodded, his face grim. “It looks like it, Maya. This report was definitely meant to be permanently deleted. I only found it because of a corrupted timestamp error that left a ghost file on an old backup server.”
The luck, or perhaps cosmic justice, of Leo’s independent discovery was staggering. He had, unknowingly, provided the irrefutable evidence Lena Hanson had said I needed. This wasn’t circumstantial; this was clear, documented intent.
I looked at Leo, a surge of fierce protectiveness mixed with gratitude washing over me. He was so young, so bright, so loyal. He was the “child” archetype the outline referenced, my professional protégé, unknowingly intervening in the deepest corporate machinations.
“Leo, this is… invaluable,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how important this is.”
He shrugged modestly. “Just doing my job, Maya. I knew something was off when I saw it. Why would Arthur commission a full strategic takeover plan for a company that wasn’t even fully developed yet, and then delete it?”
His innocent question highlighted the sheer audacity of Arthur’s deception. He had plotted this while I was pouring my heart and soul into building Phoenix AI, believing he was my supporter. The pain of that betrayal was a physical ache.
“We need to secure this,” I instructed, my mind racing. “Make multiple encrypted copies. Do not, under any circumstances, let anyone know you found this.”
Leo nodded, his eyes serious. He understood the gravity of the situation. He was not just an intern; he was a key ally, a silent warrior in my corner.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen. The report was a damning indictment of Arthur’s character. It stripped away his facade of paternal concern, revealing the ruthless, manipulative corporate shark beneath. The entire narrative he had constructed for me, for the investors, for the world, crumbled under the weight of this single, strategically deleted document.
The strategic report wasn’t just evidence of a plot; it was proof of a deeply personal betrayal, of years of calculated deception. It made my earlier humiliations, the “naivety” comment, the “guidance,” all the more unbearable. He had mocked me while secretly planning my downfall.
My next move was clear. I had to confront Lena Hanson with this. This wasn’t a “family squabble” anymore. This was a documented, premeditated corporate hostile takeover, planned by the CEO against his own daughter’s company. The fight had just escalated dramatically.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours