The Paradigm of Evil. Redemption - ebook

PROLOGUE

“MERCY TO THE GUILTY

IS CRUELTY

TO THE INNOCENT.”

Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments

This story is not entirely true. But neither is it completely made up.

Not everything here is true. Nor is everything a lie.

Some of these events did take place – though perhaps

in a different form, at a different time, under a different name.

The rest is fiction.

Or perhaps the truth has simply not yet come to light.

Time alone will reveal which of these is a product of imagination.

I leave it to the Readers to find the answer

to where the truth ends and the fiction begins.CHAPTER I

GENESIS

United States, Maryland, Baltimore

Caribbean Islands, Dominica

Maryland, Baltimore

“What if the world had an army that fought evil?” thought fourteen-year-old Jeremy as he watched yet another Batman movie starring Michael Keaton. “And what if it wasn't just one Batman, but dozens, or hundreds, or even thousands of Batmen? What if they operated like that, living in every country in the world...” His imagination began to stretch beyond its own limits.

From an early age, Jeremy Hill had been fascinated by fighting evil and bringing wrongdoers to justice. Spider-Man, Superman, and Batman were the heroes he devoted countless hours to. Stacks of comic books and videotapes filled the shelves of his room, all covered with a thick layer of dust.

“Mom, who cares about cleaning...” he would say every time she walked into his room, “…when the world is ruled by chaos, and crime spreads like a virus, wiping out the weak and ravaging the face of the earth?”

“What causes such depraved acts? Is a person born evil? Or do we all come into this world the same—as innocent children—and life and our surroundings determine the kind of people we become? Can a good person cross over to the other side because of life's experiences? How does that happen? What drives the process that shapes our personalities?” Those were the questions Jeremy asked himself whenever he heard about another murder, rape, or abuse case on the news.

His peers were interested in girls, dating, and fast cars—but not Jeremy. Young Hill's mind was occupied by global problems, and day after day he searched for answers. He wondered how our perception of the world, our attitudes, and our actions are shaped, and what influences them. Why are some people consumed by evil to the very core, while others possess such extraordinary empathy that they cannot stand by and watch the innocent suffer?

**

“Hello?” A middle-aged woman answered the phone in a hurry.

“Good afternoon. Am I speaking with Mrs. Elisabeth Hill?”

“Yes, good afternoon. How can I help you?”

“Mrs. Hill, this is Agatha Moreno from Principal Langley's office,” the caller introduced herself, a hint of irritation in her voice.

“Excuse me, from where?” Elisabeth's expression immediately sharpened.

“Principal Langley's office. Your son's school.”

“Has something happened to Jeremy?” the worried mother asked.

“That's rather an unusual question, Mrs. Hill, but let me reassure you right away that Jeremy is perfectly fine,” the secretary replied, sounding annoyed.

“Then what is this about?” The mother's voice softened.

Jeremy attended one of the most prestigious high schools in the United States—National Boarding School. His parents hadn't enrolled him there for the prestige or the elite social circles, but because of the private security the school provided. Jeremy was far from the only student in that situation. In fact, at National Boarding School, it was considered unusual to see a student walking around campus without a bodyguard.

His father's company—Hill Corporation—was one of the largest and most influential corporations in the country. As philanthropists, Jeremy's parents were known for their generosity toward the homeless, sick children, and stray animals. They frequently appeared on the front pages of newspapers, attracting the attention of people with far less honorable intentions. More than once, they received threatening letters, death wishes, and threats to kidnap their children. Protecting their family had always been their highest priority, and those threats only reinforced their decision to hire private security.

“Mrs. Hill, today Jeremy beat up one of his classmates. Quite brutally...” the secretary said.

“What? I don't understand. My son isn't aggressive. Something must have happened to make him react that way,” she replied, immediately coming to her son's defense.

Elisabeth was one of those composed, articulate women who always kept her emotions under control and treated everyone with courtesy. She even had a gift for driving people to the point of frustration simply by remaining calm. But when it came to her children, she defended them like a lioness—especially when she believed they had been accused unfairly.

“Mrs. Hill, it would be best if you came to the school for a meeting with the principal. There's no point discussing this over the phone.”

“I'll be there,” she replied. “But I want to make one thing perfectly clear. Before I speak with Principal Langley, I'm going to speak with my son first and get the full story from him. I intend to find out exactly what led him to beat up his classmate. And let me say it again, Mrs. Moreno—he must have had a very good reason. My son is not a thug.” Elisabeth spoke firmly. “Let's be perfectly clear about that.”

“Mrs. Hill, you already know that our school does not tolerate any form of violence, regardless of the circumstances.”

“We'll talk when I get there. Expect me.”

Elisabeth hung up and gently placed the receiver back in its cradle. She picked up her black Gucci handbag, slipped the strap over her shoulder, and swept through the snow-white wooden doors of their residence.

In the driveway in front of the house stood a black armored Ford Explorer SUV. A tall, athletic man stepped out from behind the vehicle, dressed in an elegant black suit without a single visible crease. His polished black patent leather shoes were laced with thin, ebony-colored laces. His short, impeccably trimmed hair and well-groomed beard added to his commanding presence. He walked to the rear passenger door, took hold of the handle, and opened it.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hill,” he greeted his employer.

“Good afternoon, Michael,” she replied, her voice filled with concern.

“Where are we headed, Mrs. Hill?”

“To Jeremy's school, please.”

“Is everything alright?” he asked, noticing the concern in Elisabeth's eyes.

“We'll see, Michael. I don't know what happened, but I got a call from the principal's office saying Jeremy badly beat up one of his classmates.”

Michael's eyes grew as wide as fifty-cent pieces. Michael O'Donnell had served as Elisabeth Hill's driver and bodyguard for many years. He had known Jeremy since the boy was four years old. Never once had he shown even the slightest sign of aggression. Quite the opposite—kindness, compassion, and empathy were the traits that defined him. That made it even harder for Michael to believe Jeremy could have beaten someone up without a very good reason.

“That seems highly unlikely, Mrs. Hill,” he said, trying to reassure her.

“I don't know what could have driven him to something like this.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Michael asked.

“Thank you. For now, I'd like to find out for myself what this is all about. Let's go.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hill.”

**

Driving down a road paved with gray and white cobblestones, Michael and Elisabeth arrived at an enormous colonial-era red-brick building whose stunning architecture immediately set it apart.

Elisabeth waited for Michael to open her door before stepping out. She made her way toward the entrance with confident strides. Mrs. Moreno was already waiting for her, motioning the way with a bony hand. The secretary closed the heavy oak doors behind her—which, considering her slight build, couldn't have been easy—then followed Elisabeth down the hallway.

“Where's Jeremy, Mrs. Moreno?” Elisabeth asked curtly. “As I mentioned, I'd like to see my son first.”

“Of course, Mrs. Hill.” The assistant's voice was noticeably friendlier than before. “First door on the right. Directly across from Principal Langley's office. Right this way,” she said, once again gesturing ahead.

“Thank you,” Elisabeth replied coolly as she closed the door behind her.

She stepped into the room and stopped in front of the large window that covered most of the far wall. Beyond the glass, the treetops glowed in brilliant autumn colors.

“Mom!”

Jeremy shouted and ran to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her as though he never wanted to let go.

“Jeremy! Are you alright, sweetheart?” She cupped his face in her hands, carefully studying his blue eyes.

“Yes, Mom. I'm fine,” the boy assured her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure. But it's a shame you didn't get to see that goddamn jerk.” Jeremy bounced excitedly on his feet.

“What happened, Jeremy? I'm about to meet with Langley, and I need facts. Tell me everything. Michael and I couldn't believe you'd beaten someone up. Not you.” She caught herself speaking too quickly and slowed down. “Something serious must have happened. Tell me everything, from the beginning. No holding back, son.”

“Mom, you won't believe what that son of a bitch was doing,” he said, pacing back and forth, too worked up to stand still.

“Jeremy! Watch your language,” she warned.

“But Mom, I can't think of a better word for a piece of filth like him,” he replied, frustrated.

“Try. Go on.”

“Alright. We were outside during recess,” he began. “We were playing ball when I heard this awful sound. At first, it sounded like a newborn baby crying, except there aren't any little kids here. A moment later, I heard it again. That's when I realized it was a cat. I ran toward the woods. The first person I saw was that meathead from the upper grade, John O'Callaghan. I ran up to him, grabbed him by the arm, and spun him around. And then...” Jeremy fell silent, his eyes glistening.

“And then what, Jeremy?” His mother's expression grew increasingly horrified.

“And then, Mom...” He swallowed hard. “It was awful. He was holding a tiny kitten in one hand and a knife in the other. I took in the whole situation in an instant—it was like time just stopped. You know that feeling, Mom?” He looked at her, searching for confirmation. “The kitten already had the pads on one of its front paws sliced open. I shouted, ‘What are you doing?’ You know what he said?”

“Go on.”

“‘I'm about to do the rest of them.’ Then he laughed. He wasn't even bothered that I'd caught him watching. Goddamn piece of trash,” Jeremy said through clenched teeth. “I snapped. I tackled him. Johnny went down. I grabbed the kitten and laid it on the leaves. Then I went back and beat the hell out of that piece of trash. He didn't stand a chance. Afterward, while he was lying there, I picked up the knife and cut the palm of his hand.” He looked back at his mother, waiting for her reaction.

“Jesus Christ, Jeremy!” she exclaimed.

“I'm sorry, Mom, but I couldn't help it. How can anyone be that cruel? How can anyone mutilate an innocent animal? What kind of monster does something like that?”

“It's alright, sweetheart.” She pulled him into her arms. “What happened to the kitten?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

“Mrs. Moreno called a vet. They've already picked him up. She said they were going to take him to a shelter afterward.”

“He's not going to any shelter. We're taking him home,” she said firmly, straightening her back and lifting her chin as though sealing the decision.

“Really?” Jeremy looked at her as if she were a guardian angel who had just saved another life.

“Yes, Jeremy. I'll take care of everything in a minute. What about that idiot Johnny?” she asked, if only out of basic decency.

“Well... his face is bruised, and his hand's bandaged. Overall... he'll be fine. He just needs time to recover—that's what Mrs. Moreno said. I told him that if I ever saw anything like that again, or found out he'd hurt another animal, it wouldn't end nearly as well as it did this time.”

“Jeremy, you can't say things like that. Those are criminal threats. You've already taught him a lesson.”

“He won't say a word, Mom. I promise,” Jeremy replied firmly.

“Alright. Let's see what Mr. Langley has to say.” She sighed, straightened up, and composed herself. Then she and Jeremy headed toward the door. She wrapped her hand around the handle, opening the gateway to the hell that awaited in the school hallway.

“Mrs. Moreno, please take me to Principal Langley.”

**

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hill. Please, have a seat.” The principal gestured toward a nineteenth-century wooden chair with a leather-upholstered seat.

The moment Elisabeth sat down across from Langley, she was reminded of how she'd felt the last time she'd been called into a principal's office—back in high school. She had punched a boy who sat in the back row, catching him square in the nose after he'd tried to grab her backside. Ever since her late grandfather had given her the first and only piece of advice she ever needed, she had never allowed anyone to disrespect her.

"Lisa, you've got two hands. Use them to defend yourself, and never let anyone treat you with disrespect."

His words had become her motto in life.

God, why do I have to go through this again? she thought, as a chill of unease ran through her body.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Langley,” she replied sternly. “But before you begin...” She brushed her curly brown hair back over her shoulder. “...I'd like to ask whether the parents of that... that...” She stopped herself just in time, swallowing the insult that had almost escaped her lips. The principal's office was hardly the place for it. “Have O'Callaghan's parents arrived yet?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hill, and that's exactly why I wanted to speak with you as soon as possible.” He looked at her like a tiger locking onto its prey.

“Wonderful,” she replied dryly, despite feeling anything but comfortable.

“Mrs. Hill, you know perfectly well that violence is strictly forbidden at our school and always carries consequences. No exceptions. We have never tolerated this kind of behavior, we do not tolerate it, and we never will. I'm sure you understand what that means.”

“First of all, I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak to me in such a condescending tone.” She held Langley's gaze without blinking. “Secondly, this actually works out rather well, Principal Langley, because the behavior of one of your students...” Once again she stopped herself before saying something she'd later regret. “...borders on criminal.”

“Mrs. Hill, I'm talking about your son. Behavior like his is dealt with very seriously,” he replied, unable to hide his frustration. “To be completely honest, John's parents are considering petitioning for Jeremy's expulsion. They've repeatedly stated that they intend to file a lawsuit against both him and you, as his parents.”

“Excuse me?” Elisabeth's eyebrow shot up, her anger becoming impossible to miss. “You can't possibly be serious,” she said with a scornful laugh.

“I assure you, Mrs. Hill, I am. Those are our regulations, and that's the law.”

That was the moment Langley finally pushed Elisabeth too far. Her mind immediately began working through every possible angle, searching for the strongest response.

“Very well. If that's the direction we're taking, then I have no problem with it.” A faint, ominous smile appeared on her face. “I have just one question. Am I correct that John's father is currently running for governor?”

“Yes, that's correct. But what does that have to do with anything, Mrs. Hill? Your son assaulted another student, not the other way around.”

“That's absolutely true, Mr. Langley.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of Elisabeth's mouth. “No argument there. But tell me... what do you think Mr. O'Callaghan's voters will say when they learn what his son did? Do you think they'll vote for a man who's raising a sadistic psychopath?” She leaned forward, resting both hands on the desk, her eyes fixed on his.

“But—”

“Please let me finish, Mr. Langley,” she interrupted calmly. “What do you think people will say about your school? Just imagine tomorrow's headline:

Sadistic Student Attends One of the Most Prestigious Schools in the United States.

I imagine your competitors would be thrilled. And one more question, Mr. Langley. What will people think when they find out that this immature son of a bitch tortured a defenseless little kitten—and Jeremy beat him up because of it?”

She emphasized every word, making sure Langley understood exactly what would happen if he chose to side against her son.

“Good Lord...” he muttered under his breath.

His eyes dropped to the desk.

It was the look of a man who knew he'd lost.

He realized there was no point arguing anymore. Elisabeth had presented arguments that could seriously damage both the school's reputation and O'Callaghan's political campaign. Publicity like that would benefit no one.

“I understand, Mrs. Hill,” he said at last with a deep sigh.

“Mr. Langley, here's what you're going to do.” Her voice remained perfectly calm. “You're going to speak with that monster's parents and deliver my message. Their son may remain at this school—but only if he begins therapy with a qualified psychologist and never harms another animal again. Needless to say, he should never be allowed to own another living creature. I assume we agree on that. And as for you, Principal Langley, you'll accept the assistance of the animal welfare foundation I work with. You'll make room in every class schedule for lectures on empathy and respect for animals. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hill. Perfectly clear,” he replied helplessly.

“Oh, and one more thing. You don't need to concern yourself with my son anymore. I'll take care of him. And the kitten.” She picked up her handbag. “Goodbye, Mr. Langley.”

She turned on her heel and walked out with her head held high.

She headed straight for the secretary's office.

“Mrs. Moreno, I'd like my son excused from the rest of today's classes, and I'd also like the address of the veterinary clinic where you took that poor kitten,” she said, looking down at the secretary seated behind her desk.

“Mrs. Hill, I can assure you it's one of the best veterinary clinics in the area,” Agatha replied, sounding slightly intimidated.

“Thank you, Mrs. Moreno, for taking care of him. I truly appreciate it.” Elisabeth smiled warmly. “Now... the address, please. The kitten is coming home with us. We're certainly not leaving that poor little thing at a shelter.”

Agatha stepped away from her desk to let Jeremy know he could join his mother. Then she returned with a sheet of paper, wrote down the name and address of the veterinary clinic, and handed it to Elisabeth.

“Come on, Jeremy. Let's go pick up the reason this whole thing started.” She smiled and slipped an arm around his shoulders.

“And what about me?” the still-agitated boy asked.

“I'll tell you everything later.”

As they walked down the hallway toward the exit, they spotted Johnny sitting on a bench beside his parents.

“And where do you think you're going, Elisabeth?” O'Callaghan shouted angrily. “This isn't over. Your son's a thug, and he'll answer for what he did.”

Elisabeth stopped in the middle of the hallway and slowly turned around. She walked toward Johnny's father, her heels clicking across the hardwood floor.

“You're mistaken, Tom. It's your son who's the thug. And the sadist.” She looked at the entire family with open contempt. “And this matter has already been settled.”

She smiled.

“On my terms.”

“You'd better go have a word with Langley.”

Tom O'Callaghan didn't say another word. He knew confidence like hers didn't come out of nowhere.

He turned to his son.

“What did you do, you little bastard? Tell me—what the hell did you do?!”

Mrs. Hill slipped her arm around Jeremy once more, smiled at him, and together they walked toward the exit. Behind them echoed the furious shouts of the gubernatorial candidate and the sobs of his son.

Michael was already waiting by the SUV, holding the rear door open.

“Mrs. Hill. Jeremy.” He nodded. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Michael. It is now.” Smiling, she handed him the slip of paper. “Before we head home, let's stop by the vet. Here's the address.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hill.”

**

“Hey, Jeremy. What are you doing here? How did you get in? The door has a keypad lock,” Edward asked uneasily. “You know you're not supposed to come in here.” Even though the boy had broken the rules, Edward hugged him tightly, as though he hadn't seen him in months. Then he gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“I know, Dad, but the door was open, so I figured I'd come in and say hi.”

“You could've called me, just like we agreed, right?” Their eyes met. “You know I'll always make time for you. Just don't come in here again. Please. This is no place for kids,” he said calmly.

“Dad, I'm not a kid anymore.” Jeremy puffed himself up like a peacock.

You don't say something like that to a teenager whose hormones are swirling like a Texas tornado, Edward thought, stopping himself just before the words left his mouth. “You're right. You're not a kid anymore. But you'll always be my child.” He smiled at his son, slipped an arm around his shoulders, turned him toward the exit, and guided him out of the room. Compared to the brightly lit room that seemed to beckon him, the hallway was relatively dark. Jeremy had never seen that room before. He was like a moth, irresistibly drawn to the light.

Jeremy stopped.

“Dad... I'm sorry,” he said quietly.

“Son, don't apologize to me. Just don't come looking in here again.”

“Dad, that's not what I'm apologizing for.”

“Then what are you apologizing for?” Edward asked.

Jeremy didn't answer. Instead, he glanced out of the corner of his eye toward the room he'd failed to reach after running into his father. In that instant, Edward realized exactly what his son was about to do. He tried to stop him, but everything happened at once—both too fast and as if in slow motion. Jeremy twisted free from his father's arm, pushed off with both feet, and sprinted toward the brightly lit room.

Edward tried to catch him, but it was already too late. All he could do was run after him as fast as he could.

“Jeremy, stop! I'm begging you! Stop!” The desperate cry tore from Edward's throat. “Stop! This will ruin your life! Jeremy!”

To Edward, time suddenly seemed to stop. He felt as though he were running in place while Jeremy kept getting farther and farther away.

Jeremy burst into the room and looked around. A moment later, he froze. He stood there like a statue as tiny tears of despair slowly welled up in his eyes, eventually turning into a steady stream. Edward knew exactly what was happening inside his son's mind. He knew him like the back of his hand. He knew the kind of person Jeremy was, the emotions that shaped him, and the extraordinary empathy he had been blessed with.

“No! Jeremy!” Edward fell to his knees, clutching his head in both hands. “No!” he cried again.

Jeremy stared at every wall in horror. Slowly, piece by piece, he took in his surroundings, trying to force himself to speak—to make any sound at all. He couldn't. He stood there like a pillar of salt, unable to move. He was as motionless as someone trapped in sleep paralysis—fully aware, yet incapable of making a single movement, desperately trying to catch a breath stolen by the nightmare. That was exactly how Jeremy felt as he uncovered his father's secret.

What the hell is this? he asked himself. My father is a psychopath. A sadist. A flood of thoughts overwhelmed him. How could he do this to me? How could he do this to other people? God... why? Tell me why. Whenever Jeremy needed strength, he turned to God, whom he believed watched over him and carried him through life's darkest moments.

Father and son remained trapped in the same abyss of grief and despair, though for entirely different reasons. Until that moment, Jeremy had believed his father was a saint. A protector who had always been there for him, his sister, his mother—for the entire family. But not only for them. To the outside world, Edward Hill was known as a philanthropist, a man who devoted himself to helping those in need. In a single instant, Jeremy's entire world came crashing down like a Jenga tower after the wrong block had been pulled. He regretted his reckless decision.

I never should've come here.

He was furious with himself for his overwhelming need to uncover what had remained hidden. Because of his insatiable curiosity, the world he had always known had just ceased to exist.

For years, Edward had done everything in his power to keep his darkest secret hidden from the son he loved more than life itself. Until now, every precaution had worked. Only he knew the access code to the hidden room beneath the house. No one else had ever been entrusted with that knowledge. Still, he had left behind one safeguard—information secured in a safe-deposit box for his wife in the event of his death. Everything he did was shrouded in absolute secrecy. Apart from him, only a handful of people knew the truth. If that truth ever came to light, the spotless reputation Edward and his family had built over the years would be destroyed. They would be dragged through the mud, and exposing that secret would hand their competitors an immeasurable advantage.

Jeremy would never have imagined that the guests who attended the parties at their home belonged to an organization involved in something so horrifying.

“My whole life has been a lie,” Jeremy whispered under his breath, letting out a deep sigh. He took a few unsteady steps until the backs of his legs bumped into a sofa against the wall. He sank heavily onto the cushions and buried his face in a pillow beside him. Tears still streamed down his cheeks, though the flood had slowed to an occasional drop.

Edward couldn't move. He simply stood there, staring at his son, wondering what was going through his mind and what he was feeling at that very moment. He felt like the victim of a mob hit, dumped into the ocean—desperately trying to breathe where there was no air and struggling to reach the surface. After a long moment, he slowly pushed himself to his feet with trembling hands. Then, careful not to startle Jeremy, he cautiously walked toward him.

“Jeremy... please. Let me explain everything,” Edward pleaded softly.

“Don't come near me!” Jeremy shouted. “I don't even want to know you!”

“Son, it's not what you think,” Edward said, his voice filled with desperation. “I asked you so many times to stay away from this room, didn't I?”

“Who even are you, Dad?” Jeremy turned toward him, fixing him with a dark, unsettling stare.

“I'm your father.”

“Cut the crap, Dad! What the hell is going on here? Who are you? What did you do to these people? To those animals? Are you a Satanist? Are those parties in our basement some kind of sick Satanic gatherings?” The questions poured out of him, each one fueled by the horrifying images still burned into his mind.

“No, Jeremy!” Edward protested. “Enough! Just let me explain everything. You came barging in here despite everything I told you. At least hear me out.”

Jeremy looked at his father again, slowly shaking his head in disbelief.

“Go ahead, then! Talk! Explain! I'm dying to hear what you have to say!” he shouted.

Edward walked over to the desk, pulled out a chair, and placed it opposite Jeremy. As he sat down, he gathered his thoughts, organizing everything he had planned to say when this day finally came—the day his children would learn the secret he had hidden for so many years. He looked Jeremy straight in the eyes and swallowed hard, feeling it scrape painfully down his throat.

“Son,” he began. “Not everything is the way it seems. You'll have to discover the truth for yourself, but before you do, let me explain what you saw here and what lies behind it. You know the saying, 'Don't judge a book by its cover,' right?”

“Yeah, I know it,” Jeremy replied. “But what does that have to do with any of this?”

“You already judged me, didn't you? You assumed I was the one who did something so unimaginably sick.”

“Well... yeah.” Jeremy's voice softened as he tried to understand where his father was going with this. “What else was I supposed to think?”

“Exactly. Without knowing what was really going on, you jumped to conclusions and accused me. That's only human.” Edward took a deep breath. “I once heard a story. There was a family—I don't even remember what country they lived in. Maybe it was never mentioned. Maybe it wasn't important. Maybe it's simply a story with a lesson. There was a mother, her infant child, and their dog. One day, the mother left the baby asleep in one room while she went into another. A little while later, she heard the baby crying and rushed back. The first thing she saw was her dog. Its muzzle was covered in blood. Then she noticed the same crimson blood on her baby's tiny body. She immediately assumed the dog had attacked the child. Without thinking, she grabbed the first heavy object she could find and struck the dog. Then she ran to her baby. She checked him from head to toe and realized he wasn't hurt at all. Completely bewildered, she looked down and saw a dead snake beneath the crib. The dog hadn't attacked the baby. It had saved the child's life by killing the snake before it could strike. But sadly... for their faithful friend, it was already too late.”

Jeremy sat there in stunned silence. The tears had stopped. His face remained tense, one eyebrow raised—just like his mother's whenever she was surprised or displeased. His eyes still glistened, but the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. Now he understood where his father was going with the story. A weight lifted from his chest. He realized it wasn't Edward who had committed those monstrous acts.

“I'm sorry, Dad.” He moved closer and embraced his father before looking him straight in the eyes.

“It's alright, Jeremy.” Edward hugged him tightly and patted him on the shoulder. “If I'd been in your place, I probably would've reacted the same way. I told you the story about the dog and the snake because I wanted you to learn something from it. Never judge a situation based solely on emotion. Keep a clear head until you know the whole story. First, find out what's really going on.” He paused for a moment, reflecting on his own words. “Although... there are times when you simply don't have the luxury of waiting before you act,” he added quietly.

Jeremy kept looking at his father, this time with genuine curiosity. More than anything, he wanted to know the truth.

“You know, son...” Edward continued, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “I've always known the day would come when I'd have to tell you the history of our family. I just never imagined it would happen this soon. You're still too young for a truth this painful.”

“What do you mean... our family?” Jeremy asked. Out of everything his father had just said, that one word had caught his attention.

“Your mother is part of it too,” Edward replied, lowering his head as though he couldn't bear to meet his son's eyes.

“So Mom knew about all this from the very beginning?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes. She's actually the brains behind the entire operation.” A faint smile crossed Edward's face.

“Oh, God,” Jeremy muttered.

“Yes... God.” Edward nodded. “In this case, that's exactly what we can say. He's watched over us all this time and guided us in the right direction, as though we were instruments carrying out a mission He had planned.”

Edward rose from his chair, walked over to one of the walls, and deliberately flipped each light switch, one after another. Suddenly, every inch of the wall was illuminated, revealing every detail.

“Come over here, son,” Edward said, extending his hand toward Jeremy.

Jeremy got to his feet and slowly made his way over, shuffling his feet. The rubber soles of his sneakers dragged reluctantly across the floor, delaying the inevitable by only a few seconds. He was afraid he was about to see something even worse than what he'd already seen.

If only I could turn back time and go back to yesterday, he thought. Maybe I wouldn't have come up with such a crazy idea. Or maybe I still would have? Maybe this was inevitable. Maybe there was no butterfly effect at all. Maybe everything that happens in our lives happens for a reason. Maybe it's all part of a plan.

Jeremy stopped beside his father. Had someone taken a photograph of them from behind and somehow hidden the pictures covering the wall, it could have passed for a beautiful family portrait. Unfortunately, reality couldn't be blurred, and the two of them now found themselves facing something they would somehow have to learn to live with.

“Jeremy, are you going to open your eyes, or are you going to keep putting it off? Or maybe... you don't want to look at any of this anymore?” Edward asked, unable to hide the tension in his voice.

“No, Dad. I want to see it. There's no turning back now. The cards have already been dealt.” With that, he cautiously opened his eyes, which immediately filled with tears. “God...” he whispered as he slowly took it all in. He walked from one side of the room to the other, studying the photographs covering three of the walls. “Dad... tell me what this is. What the hell is going on here?”

“These are photographs of victims... and their abusers. We're not a cult, and we don't worship Satan.” The corners of Edward's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.

“Then who are you?” Jeremy pressed.

“We're an organization that fights the cruelty we uncover around the world.”

“What?”

“The people who attend our parties are members of that organization.”

“But how? When did this all start? What exactly do you do? What are you fighting? Tell me everything.”

“It all began more than a decade ago, when you were still just a little kid. A few friends and I were sitting in my study one evening. The daughter of one of them had been brutally raped. The legal system failed her completely. They caught the man responsible, but because there wasn't enough evidence, he was released the very next day. No justice. None at all. Watching our friend's helplessness—and the terror his daughter was living with—made us realize something. If the system refuses to protect innocent people... maybe someone else has to.”

“But, Dad!” Jeremy interrupted. “Don't you think that by doing this, you're becoming just like those bastards? What about your conscience? Your morals? Your integrity? This is supposed to be the job of the courts, not vigilantes. The system is supposed to fight people like that. It's supposed to protect us. It's supposed to make us feel safe.”

Jeremy paced around the room, gesturing as he spoke. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“Say that again, Jeremy,” his father said.

“But... what?”

“You said it perfectly.” Edward nodded. “ It's supposed to. When I was your age, I believed exactly the same thing. I believed the system would protect us. That the law would protect us. That the authorities were on our side. But life has a way of testing our beliefs, our judgment, and everything we think we know. The system failed us, Jeremy. And we can't allow monsters to keep hurting innocent people just because there isn't enough evidence, or because bureaucracy prevents anyone from acting in time.”

“Oh, God...” Jeremy muttered.

“You've said that quite a few times today, son,” Edward observed.

“Does that surprise you, Dad?” Jeremy replied sarcastically.

“After everything you've learned today? Not in the slightest.”

“Please... go on.”

“Well... as I was saying, we decided to take matters into our own hands. That became our first case.”

“You caught the rapist?”

“Yes. We found him... and we gave him the justice the courts never did.” Edward paused. “An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.”

“Sweet Jesus...” Jeremy murmured, clutching his head.

“Then came another case—the murder of one of our members' husbands. After that... more and more followed. We never expected it to grow the way it did. None of us imagined the organization would spread across every continent. We go after serial killers, rapists, pedophiles, sexual predators, cannibals, human traffickers, child traffickers, animal abusers...” He paused for a moment. “The list goes on. There are far too many sick people in this world, son.”

“And what do you do with them?” Jeremy asked quietly.

“The same thing they did to their victims,” Edward replied without hesitation.

“The exact same thing?”

“Yes.”

“The exact same thing.”

“I see.”

Jeremy fell silent. He no longer knew what to say. His entire body had gone still, while every thought racing through his mind was written plainly across his face.

“We call ourselves the Cicadas,” Edward added.

“The Cicadas? Why cicadas? They're disgusting, and they make that awful noise.”

Edward smiled faintly.

“Cicadas are remarkable insects, son. Did you know that in many Asian cultures they're a symbol of rebirth, prosperity, happiness, and good health?”

“No. I can't say I've ever been interested in bugs.”

“They've developed an extraordinary way of communicating. Those sounds allow them to communicate across long distances. They're a lot like the members of our organization. We're an invisible, highly organized network. We stay in constant contact with members scattered across the world. They're the ones who bring us evidence of the crimes committed by these monsters.”

Edward suddenly fell silent.

An oppressive quiet settled over the room.

His eyes fixed on Elisabeth's tear-streaked face.

She must've been standing there for quite a while, he thought, his heart sinking.

He knew their children meant everything to her. And now she was watching her teenage son come face to face with an inheritance she had never wanted for him, while other boys his age were out enjoying their youth. This wasn't the life she had imagined for Jeremy. But neither could she walk away from the work they did and leave innocent people—and innocent animals—to suffer. She knew she would never save the entire world.

But she had always been determined to save as much of it as she could.

Seeing his father standing there in silence, Jeremy turned abruptly, already knowing who he'd find behind him.

“Mom!”

He ran to her and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

“Mom... don't cry.”

“I understand everything now.”

Caribbean Islands, Dominica

“I remember it as if it were yesterday—the moment I stood beside my father in his secret room and heard him say that name. The Cicadas. ” He fell silent for a moment. “At first, I thought it sounded funny. Now I understand why they chose it.” Jeremy gently brushed his fingertips across Grace's left cheek.

The rays of the rising sun filtered through the thin, milky-white curtains, stirring them with each breeze until they rippled like gentle waves on the sea. The ocean air drifted through the open doorway into the bedroom of their bungalow. Perched directly above the water, the celadon-and-white beach cottage looked breathtaking against the backdrop of Caribbean palms.