Pretending to Be an Untouchable Crime Boss-Chapter 28: I hate my brother.

Mom's joyful screams echoes through the house. She is ecstatic.

And then there is that woman Bella. She has stunning long black hair, piercing gray eyes, and pale skin.

And those maniacs.

That Ferucci guy brown eyes, the same height as James, a 27-year-old monster.

Then there is Hector. Online, they called him the drug trade lord. 32 years old, towering at 190 cm built like a basketball player.

Green eyes, but his appearance had changed his buzz cut and sharp jawline made him look more like a model than a criminal.

And then there was the last one, Hans.

Out of all of them, he still seems the most normal to me. Brown hair, green eyes, nothing particularly striking about him.

He is in his early 30s, around James's height, maybe a couple of centimeters taller. There is barely any information about him, except for one thing, he is some kind of bodyguard.

And finally, James, my brother, the one who seems the most ordinary.

Nothing special. Short hair, brown eyes, 184 cm tall. Maybe around 80 kilos.

Not a single search result with his name. No trace of him on social media.

He went to college, but we couldn't afford it, so he dropped out.

He was just a guy with no friends, didn't talk much, kind of like me. He got a job at a coffee shop, quietly going through life.

And then everything changed.

Drastically.

The moment that old gangster died.

And that's the moment I started to hate him.

He was supposed to be my brother. A brother who cared about me. Someone who talked to me every day, even just a little. Someone who played with me, helped me with homework.

But none of that happened after he changed.

He used to be lazy, just like me. The kind of person no one noticed, no friends, nothing. But then, that lazy brother turned into someone I was afraid to even look at.

Afraid to ask him questions.

Because what if he killed me too?

I might just be his little brother, but I know who he is. A drug lord. A gangster who rules over our capital. A man who silences anyone who speaks against him. A murderer of government officials. A man whose people do whatever he commands no matter how horrific.

And I know how these things work.

I've seen movies about gangsters. Read history books. Even visited museums. I know they can even kill their own.

That's why I never asked where all the money came from. I never asked about the armed guards, the bulletproof cars.

But then the bullying started a half a year ago.

I was the fat kid with glasses, a terrible haircut, and acne. But I never really cared about those things until my classmates started calling me names.

Then they stole my money. Slowly, it turned into daily beatings.

I hid the marks. Because I was scared.

Scared that if he saw them he asked me and I told him he would kill them. Those guys would be dead within the day.

I tolerated everything. The bullying, the humiliation. They beat me, spat on me, and I endured it all.

I hated them with every fiber of my being. Those guys were terrible kids. But they were just kids. Maybe they would change. Maybe they never would.

But I didn't want anyone to die.

But James...

James didn't care about those things.

One day, they stopped. The bullying, the beatings, the humiliation it all just ended. Not because the world suddenly became kind, but because they were terrified.

I didn't know what happened at first.

The ones who used to bully me wouldn't even look at me anymore. They avoided me like I was cursed. Some transferred to different schools. Others suddenly became quiet, acting as if I never existed.

And then I heard the rumors.

One of them was found in the alley behind our school with a broken finger.

The others? Some of their fathers lost their jobs or got beaten.

It didn't take much to put it together, James did that.

I should have been relieved. Happy, even. But all I felt was fear.

Because my brother, the brother who was once too lazy to even care about the world, had changed into something else.

Something terrifying.

He never said a word to me about it. He never asked if I was okay. Never even acknowledged what he did.

He just came home like always, sat at the dinner table, ate his meal in silence, and went to his room.

Like nothing ever happened.

And I realized then... I wasn't just scared of him.

I hated him.

Because he didn't do it for me.

He didn't do it because he cared.

He did it because that's who he had become. A monster who solved problems with fear and violence.

I wasn't someone to be feared. I was nobody. I just wanted friends—people to go to karaoke with, to go bowling with. To just exist beside them, like a normal kid.

And so, I transferred to another highschool.

But things only got worse. The bullying started on my first day.

I was sixteen, and I tried my hardest to hide it. I smiled, told funny stories, acted like everything was fine. I even told James how great the school was.

But every day, they beat me. Humiliated me. The same thing all over again.

And then not long ago they decided it wasn't enough.

They told me to jump into the river. And I did.

They didn't have to throw me in.

I jumped in on my own.

Then... darkness.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital. My body felt numb, my throat burned, and I couldn't speak.

But I could hear James, he was crying and then he said it—the words that made my blood run cold.

"I'll deal with this."

I wanted to scream at him.

Don't do it. Don't kill them.

But my body wouldn't move. My voice wouldn't come.

A few days later, I saw the video. They jumped into the river just like I did and one of them died because of my brother.

Relief? No.

Satisfaction? No.

All I felt was a sinking, crushing weight in my chest.

One of them was dead.

Gone.

Because of my brother.

I stared at the screen, watching the video over and over. Their laughter had turned into screams. Their playful shoves became desperate thrashing. I could hear them crying for help, just like I had.

And then silence.

I turned off my phone. My hands were shaking.

This wasn't justice.

It wasn't even revenge.

James didn't do this because he cared about me. He did it because someone hurt something that belonged to him. And James Bellini didn't let things go.

I should've hated those guys. They bullied me. They beat me. They made my life hell.

But I didn't want them dead.

And yet, one of them was.

Because of me.

I wanted to confront him. Scream at him. Tell him that this wasn't right.

But out of fear I could even look at his eyes.

And now, I sit in a mansion worth millions more money than I could ever imagine having to our names.

I don't go to school anymore.

Instead, the best teachers come to me, tutors paid obscene amounts of money to make sure I get the best education possible. But none of it matters.

Because I can't leave.

I can't make friends.

I can't live a normal life.

I wake up in a golden cage every day, trapped by the choices of a brother I don't even recognize anymore.

James thinks he's protecting me.

But he isn't.

He's making sure nobody can use me against him. Because that's what I am—his weakness. The one thing his enemies would love to break.

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And Mom?

She's no different.

We are both prisoners in this life he built.

James doesn't see it that way, though. He thinks he's keeping us safe. That's the difference between him and me.

He sees this house as a shield. I see it as a prison.

Or maybe...

Maybe this is all my imagination.

Maybe James isn't a monster.

Maybe he really is just my brother, the same one who used to sit next to me in silence, who never had friends.

Maybe I've convinced myself he's worse than he really is.

But then I hear the sound of a car pulling up outside.

Black-tinted windows. Armed men stepping out.

I don't recognize their faces, but I know what they are.

They aren't family. They aren't friends.

They're soldiers, James soldiers.

And suddenly, I can't breathe.

Because imagination doesn't explain this.

Imagination doesn't make people disappear.

Imagination doesn't put fear in a teacher's eyes when they say my last name.

This is real and I am trapped in it.

I hate my brother.

A man who built an empire with blood and silence. A man feared by criminals and law enforcement alike. A man whose name never appears in the news, but whose presence lingers in every dark corner of this city.

And me?

I'm weak.

Soft.

Useless.

I don't belong in his world.

Because no matter how much power he gains, no matter how feared he becomes I still see him for what he really is.

A boy who was never supposed to be a king.

A liar wearing a crown made of fear.

A monster pretending to be untouchable.

I hate him.

"Is it too much?" He put down the pen, leaning back staring at the ceiling.

Then a sudden knock echoed through the room.

"Rafael, come down. We're cooking something special."

He quickly threw the book into a desk drawer.

"Oh, you're writing something?" James raised an eyebrow. "A diary?"

"No, just... things. You know, an aspiring writer. A story."

"Cool." James leaned against the doorframe. "What's it about?"

Rafael hesitated for a moment before forcing a small smile.

"About a man who doesn't realize how much he's lost."

"Oh that's good, let me read it when you finish it."

"I will, give me a minute and I will be down." He smiled and James nodded, closing the door.

No matter how much I hate him, no matter how much I tell myself I won't become like him...

He is still my brother.

The day went on as they cooked together, making some kind of meat dish and soup. For a brief moment, it felt like they were just two brothers, nothing more, nothing less. No crime, no fear, no walls between them.

Just a family sharing a meal, talking, laughing, even if only for a little while.

When Charlotte finally woke up, Rafael was informed that she was now part of the family. The words shook him more than he expected.

He listened as they explained exactly why she was staying, their voices calm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it.

But as he watched them, as he saw the way James spoke, the way Charlotte fit into this strange new reality, a thought slipped into his mind.

A small, quiet whisper to himself.

"Maybe... just maybe, I was wrong."