Pretending to Be an Untouchable Crime Boss-Chapter 32: Monster?

Charlotte swung her legs slightly, watching the passing streets before turning to James with a puzzled expression.

"Why does he need a casket if he can't be buried?" She asked, her voice filled with childlike curiosity.

"I already explained once, it's a ceremonial thing. You know how, if a soldier doesn't come back from war, they still bury a casket for him?"

Charlotte thought for a moment before nodding. "Like a symbol?"

"Exactly. It's the same for Lucian."

"But he wasn't a soldier." She pointed out.

"No, he wasn't." James admitted. "But it's the same thing."

Charlotte fell silent, processing his words as the car continued down the road.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Yeah."

"Are you the same as him?"

James froze for a moment. The question hit him harder than he expected.

The same as him?

Lucian was ruthless, manipulative, and willing to destroy anyone who stood in his way.

He had always told himself there was a difference.

Lucian took what he wanted without thinking twice, without caring about the consequences.

But then again, did that really make him any better?

For all his justifications, all his carefully laid plans, wasn't he still standing in the same blood-soaked world as Lucian?

He exhaled slowly, shaking off the thoughts before they could drag him any deeper.

Finally, he answered.

"No. I'm not the same."

"But you're still a bad person, aren't you?"

Charlotte's voice was soft, yet unwavering. She sat there, staring at James with those sharp, unblinking eyes that always seemed to see more than they should.

James didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked out the window, letting her words settle in the quiet space between them.

Finally, he asked. "What do you think? Am I a bad person?"

Charlotte tilted her head slightly, considering his question. "No," she admitted. "But sometimes... your eyes scare me."

"Why?" He asked confused.

Charlotte hesitated, then spoke with the kind of honesty only a child could have.

"Because they don't look like they belong to a person... They look like they belong to something else."

He wasn't sure if he wanted to ask what she meant. Because deep down, he already knew.

"Like a brave lion?" James smiled, hoping to turn her words into something lighter, something easier to accept.

Charlotte, however, didn't smile back.

"No." She said softly. "Like a monster from books."

The smile on James's face faded.

For a moment, silence filled the car, heavy and unspoken. The hum of the engine was the only sound between them.

A monster.

Coming from her, it was different. It wasn't an insult. It wasn't fear. It was just the truth as she saw it.

"And what does a monster look like to you?"

Charlotte didn't hesitate. "Like someone who doesn't feel anything when they hurt people."

"But I didn't hurt anybody." He said, his voice steady but quiet.

Charlotte didn't look convinced. She kept staring at him, her small hands resting on her lap. "Yeah, but my father's eyes were like that too." She whispered.. "But yours... yours are darker."

James felt something tighten in his chest.

He forced a small chuckle, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "And what does that mean?"

"It means you scare people without trying."

"Do I scare you?" He asked after a moment.

Charlotte hesitated, then shook her head. "No... but sometimes, I feel like I should be."

James didn't respond.

Because for the first time in a long time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer himself.

"Okay, you've asked a lot of questions..." He said, leaning back slightly. "Now it's my turn." He glanced at her. "First of all, you're seven, so you need school. Tell me everything I need to know about you."

Charlotte blinked up at him, then tilted her head. "Isn't this a little late?"

James frowned. "What?"

"You never asked before."

He paused for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah... because I didn't know you were going to become my daughter."

"So, does that mean you want to know now?"

"Yeah. So start talking."

"I always had private tutors." Charlotte said matter-of-factly. "I never went to kindergarten, so I don't want to go to school."

James raised an eyebrow. "Never?"

She shook her head. "Nope. And I was born in 2018... July 23."

James blinked. "Oh, your birthday is in two weeks."

"Yeah!" Charlotte grinned. "I want a big cake."

James chuckled but shook his head. "Before that, I think you need to go to school. You need to have friends and—"

"I don't need friends." She beamed up at him. "I only need you, your mom, and Bella."

Bella?

He didn't know whether to feel honored or worried.

"That's not how it works, kid."

Charlotte just smiled wider, completely unconvinced.

"Your brother also studies at home. Why can't I?"

James sighed. "Because my brother was hurt by people."

"Hurt?"

"Yeah." James said, his tone quieter.

"By people like you?"

"No." James shook his head. "By his classmates. And he's the type that doesn't fight back."

Charlotte sat in silence for a moment, processing his words. Then, as if it was the most obvious solution, she said,

"Give him a gun."

The car fell into dead silence. Even the driver glanced at the rearview mirror, his eyes wide with shock.

"What did you just say?" Asked James with a smile on his face, he was shocked but at the same time it was funny coming from a little girl.

"Give him a gun." Charlotte repeated, making a small finger gun gesture with her hand.

The sheer confidence in the way she said it, the casual way she mimicked a gun with her small fingers...it was unsettling. Not because she didn't understand the weight of her words, but because she did.

She's really Lucian's daughter after all...

"Yeah, no. We're not giving him a gun."

Charlotte huffed. "Then how's he supposed to protect himself?"

"You don't solve everything with a weapon." James said, though even as the words left his mouth, he wondered if he was being a hypocrite.

Charlotte tilted her head, watching him closely. "Then how do you solve things?"

James glanced at her, then out the window. The truth was, for the past few years, his entire life had been built on violence on the power of control even though he didn't want it at all.

"Sometimes, you don't fight at all." He finally said.

"Then how?" She asked "My father was feared, and you are too. How do you do it without weapons?"

James exhaled, shaking his head. Do I really tell her?

He glanced at her. She was watching him closely, waiting. To an answer that would make sense of the world she had been born into.

For a moment, James hesitated. He could lie, tell her something soft, something that wouldn't plant deeper roots in the darkness she was already leaning toward. But Charlotte wasn't a normal child.

He sighed and leaned back against the seat.

"Fear isn't just about weapons, it's about control. Knowing what people want, what they're afraid of, what they're willing to do. A gun can make someone scared for a moment, but real fear? That stays even when the weapon is gone."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes slightly, thinking. "So... you make them scared without touching them?"

"Exactly."

Charlotte seemed to consider that for a moment, then grinned. "I wanna learn that."

Updat𝒆d fr𝑜m freewebnøvel.com.

James chuckled, shaking his head again.

"When somebody has a secret that could ruin them, you need to grab hold of it." James said, his voice calm but firm. "You understand?"

Charlotte tilted her head. "But how do I do that?"

"You start with the people around them, those who work for them or friends with them, those they trust. Everyone has something to hide. And if I know one person's secret, they'll do anything to keep it from getting out."

"And then," James continued, "we move up. Little by little, we reach the top. The higher up you go, the bigger the secrets, and the more desperate they are to keep them hidden. Before they even realize it, you've got them wrapped around your finger." He leaned back slightly. "That's how you control people without ever having to hurt them."

Charlotte's eyes sparkled with understanding. "So, you don't need a weapon..."

"No. Secrets are the best weapon."

Charlotte looked up at James, her eyes sharp with curiosity. "Then... what is your secret?"

James froze for a fraction of a second, but quickly masked it with a smirk.

"You trying to control me, kid?" He asked, his tone light but his gaze unreadable.

"Maybe."

"Nice try. But knowing a secret and using it are two different things. You're still a little too small to play this game."

"That's not fair."

"No, it's not. But that's how the world works."

Charlotte crossed her arms, staring at him. "One day, I'll find out."

"Maybe."

A silence settled between them after that, stretching through the rest of the drive. Neither spoke, lost in their own thoughts.

Soon, the car rolled to a stop in front of a funeral supply store. Through the glass windows, rows of caskets and somber decorations were neatly displayed, a stark reminder of the reason they were here.

Charlotte walked through the store with quiet determination, her small hands trailing over the polished caskets as she observed each one carefully.

She finally stopped in front of a full white casket, her fingers resting against its smooth surface. "This one," she said firmly.

James watched her for a moment before nodding. "Alright."

Next, they moved to the section for headstones. Charlotte's eyes scanned the options until she pointed to a granite one, solid, heavy, and enduring. "This too." She said.

"We need to know the name, the date of birth, and—"

"Leave it blank." James said to the woman.

She immediately understood what he meant and, with a smile, stepped back.

Two days later, the funeral was set.

The preparations were done, and soon, people would gather to pay their respects. But Lucian's burial wasn't just about saying goodbye, it was a statement, a message to those watching.

And James knew that message would not go unnoticed.