Chapter 5

ALEX

It seemed so hard, harder than I ever thought.

I was seated in the office of the head of security, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and a never-ending stream of emails and messages. I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed, and tired of doing all this. And what was I trying to do? I was trying to multiply the profits of my father's security company and that was proving to be more challenging than I had anticipated. It seemed like every day brought a new set of obstacles and demands that required my immediate attention and it was making me feel so stressed.

The responsibility of running a business was weighing heavily on my shoulders. I have never thought I'd be so overwhelmed like this, it seemed I didn't think this through before taking up the role. For the mob, I had always known that taking over something as big as that would be a significant undertaking, but I never imagined this security company, so little, would consume every waking moment of my life. The pressure to succeed and make my father proud was immense, and it seemed like there was no room for error. Not the kind that that damned Ronaldo made. Damn him in his grave.

I watched as my days started early and ended late, with little time for anything else. Meetings with clients, negotiating contracts, and managing the day-to-day operations of the company became my new normal. There were times when I felt like a hamster on a tiny wheel, carrying a whole lot of weight on its shoulders, constantly running but never getting anywhere.

The constant juggling act between maintaining existing client relationships and seeking out new opportunities was exhausting. Every decision I made had the potential to impact the company's bottom line, to speed up sales and profit, to double it, to triple it if possible, and the weight of that responsibility was almost suffocating. The stress began to take its toll on both my physical and mental well-being.

I wanted the Cartel, I've wanted it ever since I knew left to right and the moment I knew I couldn't get it because of my father's favouritism, I became restless. Sleepless nights became the norm as my mind raced with thoughts of strategies and solutions to make my father favour me. The constant pressure to perform so well at that time left me feeling drained and depleted, both physically and emotionally, and that made me go into drinking and smoking.

There were moments when doubt crept in, making me question if I was cut out for this level of responsibility. If I could even dare do this. Was I capable of leading Crow Cartel to greater success? Would I ever be able to live up to my father's legacy? To my brother's legacy? These thoughts haunted me, fueling my determination but also adding to the weight on my shoulders; if only father had loved us equally, I wouldn't be this worked up.

Growing up, I was always considered the lazy child in my family. On a serious note, I was indeed lazy. It seemed like I didn't need to do anything because my brother was always there, ready to please our father and take care of all the hard work. There was never nothing left for me to do. Looking back now at those days, I often wonder how my brother managed to handle everything so skillfully without ever complaining. Father was the demanded type, but my brother seemed to possess an innate ability to understand our father's expectations and fulfill them effortlessly. In many ways, he was more like our father than I could ever hope to be.

From an early age, it was clear that my brother was the favourite child in our family, and I didn't really care much except owning the mob. My brother excelled academically, participated in various extracurricular activities, and always seemed to be the apple of our father's eye. On the other hand, I struggled with motivation and found it difficult to keep up with my brother's achievements. I was nothing compared to him, even the girls in school loved him when he cared less. His success only seemed to amplify his arrogance and superiority complex, I was always on the good side of the girls. He would often belittle me and make fun of my lack of ambition and this, he would do in front of the girls. Whether it was at home or in public, he never missed an opportunity to remind me of my perceived laziness and the constant reminder that I couldn't achieve half of what he had achieved. His consistent taunting left me feeling inadequate and overshadowed by his accomplishments.

As if that was not enough, there was also the issue of the most challenging aspects of growing up with a brother like mine, this was the constant comparison. Our father would praise my brother for his hard work and dedication while disregarding any efforts I made. He didn't even praise me when I was in the Hockey team before and after my injury. I felt as though my achievements were always overshadowed by my brother's accomplishments, reinforcing the notion that I was indeed the lazy child.

To top it, the bullying didn't stop at comparisons and verbal jabs; physical intimidation was also a part of our dynamic. My brother would use his strength and size advantage to push me around and assert his dominance. He was very big growing up and once he pounce on me, I would allow him to hit me without making a noise. These instances left me feeling powerless and further reinforced the idea that I was inferior. That was why I resulted to hockey. It was my way out of the abject depression I was slowly diving into like a wrecked ship.

My brother had a natural inclination towards evil, which set him apart from me. This, he got from our father. While he effortlessly embraced darkness, I found myself unable to even consider harming an innocent soul. It was as if we were two sides of the same coin – one drawn towards malice, while the other struggled to maintain a sense of morality and humanity.

Our father, a stern and demanding man, favoured my brother's qualities. He admired his ability to manipulate situations and people to achieve his malicious goals. My brother's actions were always calculated and precise, leaving no room for error or hesitation, unlike mine. On the other hand, I often found myself questioning the consequences of my actions and doubting my own abilities, I hadn't killed a human, Ronaldo was the first. I remembered my orders that day.

The guard had asked, "what are we going to do with him, boss?”

Without an ounce of remorse in my veins, I blurted out the answer, “Kill him.” It sounded so evil.

And I watched the guard. He waited, looking at me, probably thinking I was going to change my mind because I was the only one who was against killing in this family, but I didn't move a bit, not even a muscle in me ticked. My expression was cold and it remained unchanged.

With that he nodded before he turned around after saying 'okay' and left. I felt so angry that day and I didn't regret ending that devil's life. In my eyes, he was not innocent. He had caused pain and suffering to those around him without remorse; his step daughters especially. It was at this moment that I realised evil could exist in many forms, and sometimes it was necessary to confront it head-on. This wasn't evil I committed.

And as for my brother, however, as time went on, I began to realise that my brother's path was not one I wanted to follow. His actions may have pleased our father, but they came at a great cost – the loss of his own life, he wouldn't ever come back, he was gone forever although, I couldn't help but admire his skills, his ability to navigate through life with such ease that fascinated me. He possessed a charisma that drew people towards him effortlessly.

While I might never possess the same natural inclination towards darkness as my brother, I understood that there were instances where taking action against those who caused harm was justified. Ronaldo became the catalyst for me to embrace my own sense of justice and stand up against the forces of evil, even though I did this out of anger, I saved other helpless children from him. From records, he abused his late wife and his step daughters, especially the one he gave me to marry.

He was that man who depended on my father to feed himself, and he had a way of manipulating others for his own selfish gains. He would deceive and exploit people without remorse, leaving behind a trail of broken trust and shattered lives. The worse he did, I think I already made him pay for it.

Well, after Sofia Griffin, I hoped I wouldn't be killing anyone again.