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Isabella had heard of The Organization many times during her marriage to Burton. The magnitude of evil they perpetrated was mind-numbing. To learn that Richard had volunteered to basically be sold to them to save his siblings, to save Rose, was...too much to contemplate, to bear.
“Buying my rationalization, and knowing how much The Organization would pay for my skill level, Burton jumped on my offer. I knew I’d leave my family behind, but the alternative was incomparably worse. The last time I saw them was the day I left to join The Organization. Robert was ten and Rose was six.
“I intended to amass enough power to one day assassinate Burton untraceably and disappear with my family. But he kept guarding against any counterstrikes. I know I never let my loathing show, but Burton, being the self-preserving parasite that he was, moved my family to places unknown, kept obliquely threatening me with their safety, providing me with evidence they were all well. As long as the monthly flow of cash continued.”
She had the overwhelming urge to throw herself at him and hug the helplessness he must have felt out of him. But Richard wasn’t one for human compassion, giving or receiving it. And if he ever were, she wouldn’t be the one he’d seek that from.
Oblivious to her condition, he went on, cle
arly bent on giving her the whole story in one go, as she had been.
“What made that first year in The Organization survivable was a boy two years younger than myself. They called him Phantom, considered him their star future operative. Then Burton noticed the friendship we thought we’d hidden. He monitored us and overheard Phantom saying he was working on an escape plan. Burton told me if I reported him it would mean a higher place in The Organization at once and more pay. He couldn’t do it, because he’d have to say how he’d found out, and I’d be punished for not reporting my friend’s plans, would be demoted, or worse, when Burton wanted my paycheck to move to the six digits already. He had a lot of investments going. He made it clear it was Phantom...or my family.”
Isabella struggled to hold back the tears. She’d always thought Richard made of steel, that he’d never felt love or fear for others, let alone could be held hostage by those feelings. And for him to have been just that, by the same man who’d caged her in the same way, was too much to contemplate.
“I knew Phantom, being prized, would be punished, tortured, but not killed. My family were nowhere as valuable. And there were three of them. Burton could hurt or even kill one to have me toe the line the rest of my life. So I reported Phantom. I let him think I did it to advance my standing within The Organization so he’d hate me and show it, to further reinforce my coldblooded image, which everything depended on.
“Then I went all out to prove myself to be the absolute best they ever had. I applied my ruthlessness in ways you couldn’t begin to imagine, my body count rivaling all the other operatives put together, until my monthly income was in the eight figures, with most of it going to Burton. I’d hoped to inundate him with far more money than he’d ever dreamed of so he’d let my family go, or at least treat them better until I got them out.
“But my escape and retaliation plans were further complicated when I was put in charge of another child—a boy they called Numbers, who reminded me so much of Robert. I couldn’t leave him or Phantom behind. But I finally gained enough autonomy so I could search for my family. I found them in Scotland...only too late. I pieced together that my mother tried to escape with my siblings. Burton pursued her and she lost control of her car and drove off the side of a mountain.”
Isabella lost the fight, let the tears flow.
Richard didn’t seem to notice as he continued reciting Burton’s unimaginable crimes against him and the ghastly sequence of events of his loss.
“From what I learned, Burton hadn’t bothered to help or to report the accident. He’d just walked away, since they’d already served their purpose. My mother and brother had died on impact. Only Rose had survived. I found her in an orphanage and arranged for her adoption by a kind and financially secure couple who’d been about to immigrate to the United States. I’ve been keeping an eye on her ever since.”
And that, Isabella realized, was how he’d found her again. Even though the paranoid way she’d conducted her relationship with Rose had kept her under his radar that long.
His dark voice interrupted her musings. “I never considered telling Rose I was alive. Then today... I can’t believe she remembered me.” He looked downward, his scowl deepening as if he was reliving those fraught moments. Without raising his face, he raised his eyes, impaling her with his glance. “What did you tell her after I left?”
She swallowed. “Nothing. I pretended I got an urgent call from my mother and ran out.”
He only gave a curt nod. “It’s best for her to remain ignorant of my existence.”
She couldn’t contest his verdict. Rose’s life was the epitome of stability. The last thing she needed was his disruptive influence destroying her peace.
Although...he’d handled her crawling-with-kids-and-chicks household with stunning dexterity...
No. That had been a one-off. He’d sought her out the very next day to tell her he’d stay away from her family. Richard wouldn’t want anyone permanently in his life. Not even his long-lost sister. Certainly not one who came with an extended family life right out of the textbook of normal and adjusted.
Considering he was done with that subject, he resumed his tale. “It was years before I could put my escape plan into action, after I made sure Numbers and Phantom and their team had escaped. I followed them, but as expected, they decided to kill me.”
She gasped, blood draining. Phantom had been under the misconception he’d been his heartless enemy, a threat to their freedom and lives. As she’d been until an hour ago.
“Did you finally tell him the truth?”
He shrugged. “I saw no point.”
“No point?” she exclaimed.
“Yes. I’d done everything they knew me to be guilty of, everything they hated me for. It didn’t matter why I did it.”
“Of course it matters. Knowing why always matters!”
He shook that majestic head of his in pure dismissal. “I don’t believe so. I own my crimes, I don’t excuse them.”
He wouldn’t ever think of asking forgiveness for them, either. “So if you didn’t cite your extenuating circumstances to change their minds, how did you do it?”
