Page 13 of The CEO

I’m twenty-eight, watching from the shadows as Victor concludes a deal with a cartel representative. An alliance I advised against. An unnecessary risk for marginal gain.

“The Shadows must evolve,” Victor had insisted earlier. “International connections are the future.”

I observe as he drinks too much, reveals too much, and compromises operational security in ways that make my jaw clench. The cartel representative—Santos—notices me in the corner, his eyes calculating as they move between Victor and me.

Retreating to the balcony, I step outside for some fresh air, but it’s short-lived. Santos approaches me on the balcony while Victor entertains others inside.

“You disagree with your mentor,” he observes, lighting a cigarette.

I say nothing, which he correctly interprets as confirmation.

“He is . . . how do you say . . . old-school.” Santos blows smoke into the night air. “You see further.”

“You don’t know me,” I reply, maintaining my distance.

“I know your type.” He smiles. “The student who will eventually surpass the teacher. The heir apparent who has already outgrown his mentor.”

I turn to face him fully. “Be careful, Mr. Santos. Speculation can be dangerous.”

He laughs softly. “So can blind loyalty.” He hands me a card with only a number on it. “When you’re ready for a different kind of partnership, call me.”

I take the card, knowing I’ll never use it, but understanding the value of appearing receptive. Santos has just revealed a potential fracture point in Victor’s carefully constructed alliance.

Information I file away for future use.

The most vivid memory comes next.

I’m thirty, sitting in the underground chamber as Victor delivers judgment on a local businessman accused of exploiting workers—human trafficking in all but name.

“Death is the only suitable punishment,” Victor declares, the council nodding in agreement.

All except me.

“His operations are built on legal loopholes,” I argue. “Death makes him a martyr among his peers. Financial destruction would be more effective. Take everything he’s built, then redirect his assets to his victims.”

Victor’s eyes narrow. “You’re growing soft, Damien.”

“I’m growing strategic,” I counter. “Death is a moment. Destruction is a legacy.”

The council members watch our exchange with careful, neutral expressions. This isn’t the first time we’ve disagreed publicly in recent months.

“The council will vote,” Victor announces, his tone making his preference clear.

To his visible surprise, the vote splits. Three for death, three for my alternative approach. The tie-breaking vote falls to Victor as leader.

His jaw tightens as he casts his vote for death, maintaining his authority but now aware that my influence has grown among the council.

After the meeting, he confronts me in his private study.

“You challenge me openly now?” His voice is dangerously soft.

“I presented a tactical alternative,” I correct. “As is my right as second-in-command.”

“You’re attempting to undermine me.”

“I’m attempting to evolve our methods.” I meet his gaze steadily. “The world is changing. Our approach must change with it.”

Victor studies me for a long moment. “You think you’re ready to lead, don’t you?”

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