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Catherine was a lovely woman in many aspects – every man's dream – but she had one tiny problem; a nuisance only known to those who would private with her at a more intimate level: she snored. And it wasn’t a mild snore. An electric chainsaw would be like silence compared to such noise.

Normally, he wouldn’t hear any of it. Tonight, as a necessary exception, he had decided not to take his sleeping pills. He had a feeling they wouldn’t have that much effect anyway; at least not before he read the letter.

The feeling of anticipation was haunting him. He could not escape it. All the pain and suffering and madness continued throughout generations. It was in his blood; he could not escape it. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to. Maybe, instead of running from those feelings, he ought to embrace them, weakening and destroying them from the core.

Whatever he decided to do, first and foremost, he needed to read the letter. It was time to stop delaying.

Joseph got up, put on his robe and walked to his office at the end of the hallway. Just when he was about to open the door, he remembered the letter was still in his coat pocket, which was still hanging at the hall. Quietly, he went down the stairs and retrieved the letter, keeping the coat where it was.

He climbed back to the first floor and walked slowly to his office. He felt like a condemned man, a man walking his final steps. The dungeon was a few feet away from him and he was holding the weapon of his death on his hand.

Turning the knob, Joseph opened the door, entered the office and locked the door behind him. He wasn’t sure if such action was meant to keep others from entering or him from exiting before reading and understanding what his father had written and it didn’t matter. All that matter was his wife and their children. The rest was expendable.

Putting on his reading glasses, he sat on the desk and used a small knife to open the envelope. Inside he found two sheets neatly folded. He unfolded them and recognized his father's handwriting immediately. The date was the same when Catherine told him about her pregnancy. How had his father obtained such information was beyond his knowledge; he assumed it would be the first of many bizarre coincidences.

To my oldest son,

If you are reading this, then I assume my death is imminent. Waste no time morning this final journey of mine, instead focus on what is really important: your future at The Centre.

Unfortunately, as you have probably perceived, such task won't be that easy; but before I go any further, I realize I have some explaining to do. It's about your younger brother. You didn’t know about his existence – you never had any reason to wonder about him, so why should you – and apart from me, Martin is the only person alive who really knows the truth; so I guess it's time to inform you.

He was born two years after you. Unlike you, he was raised on the outside world by a surrogate family monitored by The Centre. The reasons behind this are part of a choice you will have to make in a not so distant future.

Running The Centre requires more than determination, it requires sacrifice. In order to be my successor you will have to make sacrifices like I did and, from a certain point of view, like my father before me.

The Centre was founded by your grandfather in the early twentieth century one year after he arrived to America. After leaving his old family behind, he realized he needed to find a rightful successor. Two failed marriages provided him with what he was looking for. The problem was he didn't want the power to be shared. He believed that a situation like that could lead to inner conflicts which could therefore endanger the balance of power and destroy what he so ingeniously created.

Instead he tested his sons and devised a random scheme to evaluate their capacities to a full extent. Once he chose his heir, the other son became expendable and disappeared.

Years later, when my father was at his death bed, he revealed me that sordid family secret. Being a resourceful man myself, his confirmation came as a mere redundancy. I also knew what was expected of me. With a second son on the way, I made the necessary arrangements to place him on a foster family.

Your biological mother, despite my attempts, could not understand what I was doing, so I had to deal with her. Too bad, she was a remarkable woman. In some aspects, your wife reminds me of your mother. Yet, there is something odd about Catherine. I fear she will try to convince you to ignore my request. If she does, I will have no choice but to let the power go to your brother, Mr. Raines.

I can almost imagine your face right now. Things could be easier for you if Catherine wasn’t pregnant with twins or if your brother wasn’t alive. However, let me say this: killing your brother will not grant you the job; at least not for now. Unlike you, he already made his sacrifice, unlike you he did not hesitate. He hasn't disappointed me so far.

So here's the request: choose a son. That's it. Fairly simple, wouldn’t you say?

Attentively,

Edmund Parker

Joseph dropped the letter on his desk and took a hard time catching his breath. He didn't know what had shocked him the most: the fact that Raines was his brother or the confirmation of the sacrifice he was supposed to make. Somehow he had mildly anticipated something terrible was going to be revealed through that letter – that had been the main reason he had chosen to lock the door – only now he feared that door wouldn’t hold him for too long.

Joseph closed his eyes and wept. He wept for him, for Catherine, for their children; but mostly he wept for those who had no chance to escape a Centre under Raines' supervising. He wanted to change things, but he couldn't do what was asked of him.

He had to agree with his father. Raines would never hesitate sacrificing the most important thing in his life if that meant obtaining more power.

Comparing Raines to his father was like comparing Dr. Mengele to a generous philanthropist. Truth be reckon, his father had done his personal share of evil actions, but they had always served a clear purpose. Raines' actions, on the other hand, didn’t necessarily obey any pre-determined agenda. Raines would kill not because he needed to, but because he wanted to.

Joseph wasn’t like him – he would never be like him – and no matter what could happen if Raines got the power he would not sacrifice one of his sons to prevent it from happening. The world could go to hell for all he cared.

He would not make the choice.

------//-----

Edmund Parker's funeral came two weeks later. Joseph and Catherine, along with other Centre top personnel – Raines included – attended the ceremony. Martin Lemming was in charge of the eulogy and he spoke about a man few never dreamed to exist.

“Edmund Parker was a solitary man, a man of simple tastes. Ever since I’ve known him – and I known him for quite some time – the key to his life was consistency. He was very methodical, very thorough and he always did his best to make The Centre reflect that aspect of his personality.

“Many would consider him a dark man; someone with questionable ethics. Those people didn’t know the real Edmund; the one who had done sacrifices throughout his entire life and would continue to do so hadn’t Death come to take him.

“His actions, his choices, though not easily understandable, were not vainly made – they served a purpose. Sometimes in life we have to make choices, and that may mean sacrificing something that is dear to us. No matter how painful it may feel, we have to believe in our purpose.

“Martin believed in his purpose. Let’s hope his successor honors that memory.”

Martin stepped aside and the ceremony proceeded as planned.

A few feet away from him, Joseph understood very well what Martin had meant when he spoke about sacrifices. His father had chosen, yes; but at what cost? Glancing to left, he could see Raines and his wife Edna. She was a lovely woman; how did she end up with someone like him? Maybe it’s true what they say about opposites. An angel married to a demon. Who would imagine?

Sometimes in life we have to make choices.

Raines would honor their father’s memory at the cost of countless lives while he would stand back and watch it all without doing anything to stop it. He felt bad for his inertia, but he would feel worse if he actually decided to do as he was supposed to.

Joseph took another glance at Raines; talking to his wife, and could not stop wondering what it was he had already sacrificed. He felt his sleeve being pulled and turned to Catherine.

“What?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You were staring at William and Edna. Is something wrong?”

“No honey. Nothing’s wrong.”

Joseph felt like something was dying inside him. In two years of marriage, plus another one of dating, his relationship with Catherine had been one built on truth and honesty. In the past few weeks he betrayed that confidence twice. The first time had been when he didn’t mention the letter and the second one just now. The worst part of it was he felt those lies would be meaningless compared to what the future held. Lies are like viruses or a snowball rolling down the mountain; they cannot be stopped until they destroy everything in their passage.

This was, he feared, only the beginning.

------//-----

For the next few weeks Joseph felt the evil grow inside him. The Centre was currently being run by The Tower. The name of the next Chairman was still unknown. Only Martin Lemming knew the choice had actually never been made.

Catherine’s pregnancy was going well. Their visits to The Centre’s fertility clinic gave them enough assurance, although Joseph felt pretty uncomfortable every time they went there. The reason for this was that he knew that Raines used that clinic to conduct experiments on pregnant women. Catherine didn’t know about any of this and he had no intention of telling her that. As long as everything looked fine, there was no need to worry her.

Soon, he would be holding his children and then he and his wife would leave The Centre behind and start a new life someplace else. It felt good to dream; if he tried hard enough he could almost believe that it would possible.

It wasn’t.

The Centre would never let him or his family go. He was hired for life and only his choice could determine if his permanency was to be under or above Raines’ authority. He preferred the latter but he hated its implications.