The CEO I Created Wants Me Dead

I was seven years his senior.

The first time I laid eyes on Julian Roscente, he was a boy in rags, fighting stray dogs for scraps in the gutter. His eyes met mine—not with pleading, but with the feral glare of a wolf. A ruthless spark. So I took him in. I molded him from nothing.

In a mere ten years, Julian went from a penniless street urchin to the most distinguished CEO in Los Angeles. I considered him my masterpiece.

Until the day a foolish young woman stepped in front of my car. She placed a hand on her belly and pressed play on a recorder.

"Julian, who do you prefer—me or that old hag?"

Then came the voice I knew so well. "She's just an aging woman. All these years, I've hated her condescending attitude the most."

I smiled. It seemed Julian had forgotten the days he spent groveling.

The next day, I sent him a gift. A box containing the bloody, lifeless fetus.

He pressed a gun to my forehead, his eyes burning with a rage I hadn't seen in years. "Natalie."

I took a slow sip of my tea, utterly unruffled. "It seems you've forgotten my methods, Mr. Roscente."

His face darkened into something truly vicious. "You think I won't pull the trigger?"

He wasn't the frail boy I'd found anymore. Years of living by his wits had given him a terrifying presence. I just shook my head with a faint, dismissive smile. "If I were you, I wouldn't waste words."

He paused, hearing a faint scraping sound from the floor-to-ceiling window behind him. He turned, and froze.

Serena was suspended outside the seventy-second-floor window, her hands bound. Her white dress whipped around her in the wind, the city sprawled like an abyss below.

"I suggest you be careful," I said, the cold metal still pressed to my skin. "If your hand slips and I die, your little darling will be smashed to pulp. One corpse... well, it's only one life now."

"Julian, save me!" Serena wept, her voice choked with terror.

His eyes bloodshot, Julian released the safety catch. "How dare you, Natalie!"

My bodyguards surged forward, but I waved them away lazily. "Get out."

Then, without even looking, I drew a dagger from my desk and plunged it into his abdomen. He grunted, staggering back, but the gun remained steady on me.

"Enjoying this?" I asked softly, as if whispering to a lover.

His expression was ice. "Are you satisfied now? Let her go. Serena isn't like you. She's innocent."

His men arrived quickly, cutting Serena down. I never had any intention of actually killing her. But watching him cradle her in his arms, treating her like some fragile treasure, suddenly felt profoundly tiresome.

He had held me the same way, once. After I lost our child, and with her, any chance of ever having another. Her name was Sophia. She was fully formed. Julian built a temple for her, spending a fortune to gild a statue in her image. He said, "Natalie, our child will have a peaceful next life." He wanted endless prayers and incense to accumulate blessings for her.