Page 83 of The CEO

I lean forward, the memory still haunting me as vividly as the day it happened.

“I started with his stomach. The blade sank into his flesh with a resistance I hadn’t anticipated, but the sound it made—that wet, sucking sound—it was . . . beautiful. He tried to fight back at first, his hands clawing at me, but I was quick. Small, but quick.”

I notice Eve hasn’t flinched, hasn’t looked away. Something about her steady gaze encourages me to continue.

“He begged, you know. Called me ‘kid’ and promised he’d leave and never come back. But with each thrust of the knife, I felt more powerful. His blood was warm on my hands, splashing my face, soaking my clothes. By the fifteenth stab, he’d stopped moving. The rest . . . those were just for me. For the satisfaction of watching the life drain completely from his eyes. I can still remember the way they clouded over, and how his body twitched with each new wound even after consciousness had left him.”

I take another sip of whiskey before continuing.

“When it was over, I sat between their bodies, covered in blood, wondering what would happen next.” I finally look at Eve, my eyes searching hers for judgment, revulsion, fear. “That’s when Victor Messini found me.”

“Victor owned the building,” I continue after taking another drink. “He had other properties in the neighborhood, too—fronts for money laundering. He came to collect late rent from my mother and instead found a blood-soaked child sitting calmly between two corpses.”

“What did he do?” Eve asks, her voice sounding strange in the quiet room.

“He had just finished dealing with one of his own problems when he arrived. There was blood under his fingernails that wasn’t mine or Ray’s. I noticed that immediately—how careful he was with his expensive suit, but how careless he’d been with his hands.” A ghost of a smile touches my lips. “That night, I had watched him put a bullet in the head of a man who’d been skimming from his operation. Did it right in the alley behind our building. I saw it through the window while waiting for Ray. When Victor noticed me watching, he should have killed me too. Instead, he came to investigate afterward. He didn’t realize who I was until he came upstairs.”

I pause, remembering the moment that changed everything.

“He crouched down in his expensive suit, looked me in the eye, and asked if I killed Ray.” My lips curve. “When I said yes, he nodded like I’d given the correct answer to a simple math problem. Then he asked if I was sorry.”

“Were you?” Eve asks, her eyes never leaving mine.

“No.” The answer comes without hesitation. “I told him I’d do it again if I could. That I’d do it slower next time. That I’d make him feel every second of pain he’d ever inflicted on my mother and me. Victor didn’t flinch. He just . . . understood.”

I suppress a shiver at the image of a nine-year-old me, covered in blood, speaking such words with the same calm certainty I display now.

“Victor saw something in me that day—potential, he later called it. Recognition, I’ve come to believe. He saw himself in me. Instead of calling the police, he made some calls to his associates. Within an hour, a cleanup crew arrived. They took the bodies, scrubbed the apartment, and Victor took me.”

“He just . . . took you?” Eve tries to imagine the scenario: a wealthy businessman claiming a blood-covered child like salvaged property.

“He became my legal guardian through channels I didn’t understand until years later. He had connections everywhere—police, judges, politicians. The necessary documents appeared, and I became his ward: the lost boy he’d charitably taken in after a tragic accident claimed his parents. A new identity, a new history, a new life crafted with such meticulous attention to detail that no one ever questioned it.”

The parallels to Eve’s own life—parents lost suddenly, future derailed—don’t escape me.

“Victor educated me, shaped me. Tutors, private schools, lessons in everything from martial arts to art history.” My tone shifts, something like reluctant reverence entering my voice. “And he taught me about The Shadows.”

“What was it like then?” Eve asks, genuinely curious about the organization’s origins.

“Smaller, more primitive than what we are now. Four members, including Victor, who each represented a different aspect of power—finance, politics, enforcement, intelligence.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “They dispensed their own brand of justice, targeting those beyond the reach of the law. People like Ray, who hurt others without consequence.”

“And you wanted to be part of that.”

“I wanted to create order from chaos. To ensure that people who deserved punishment received it, regardless of their wealth or connections.” My eyes meet hers directly. “I believed in their purpose, Eve. I still do, though our methods have evolved.”

The fire has burned lower, casting the study in softer light as I continue my confession.

“Three years ago, I killed Victor Messini.”

The statement lands with simple finality, no embellishment or justification offered.

“Why?” Eve asks, though I suspect she already knows.

“Multiple reasons. He had become a liability to The Shadows—reckless and cruel for the sake of cruelty rather than justice.” My expression darkens. “But primarily because of your parents. Because of what he took from you.”

The revelation sends a jolt through her. “You killed him . . . for me?”

“For you.” I meet her gaze directly. “Though you didn’t know it, couldn’t know it. It was an atonement of sorts, though an inadequate one.”

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