Philanthropic

"... What?"

"Half a million dollars for your little wager. Enough money that all but the most financially well off would at least have to consider it, even if they decided to turn it down; that was your first miscalculation, wasn't it? The husband and wife that didn't go along with your game, because neither of them was desperate enough for the money." His sullen silence signaled assent. I already knew, but the confirmation that my intel was accurate pleased me.

"Add in another few hundred thousand between time off for employees, travel expenses, catering, and all of the other nonsense, and you're getting close to an even million. How many therapy sessions would that have bought? You could play your little game to 'save' one man from a bad marriage and destroy his family, or you could help dozens of families stay together, and which did you choose? It was never about 'the greater good,' Simon. It was always about your sick need to punish women that reminded you of your exes."

I let him simmer for a little bit while I drained his accounts. "Stop looking like someone ran over your dog. I don't have time to liquidate all your holdings. You're still going to be obscenely wealthy when I'm done. Maybe a little wiser, too."

Richards barked out a bitter laugh. "All this effort, and you're just a common thief." Tre winced.

I pushed aside the laptop. "Is that what you think this is, Simon? That I'm doing this just to steal from you? Trying to destroy your business like you destroyed the business of the man who took yours? Drive you to suicide?"

He was briefly hesitant, then the bravado took over again. "Of course it is! You won't get away with it, either. I'll have you tracked down in days, and the money will be returned to--"

"No you won't. The money is getting turned into crypto, then filtered out anonymously to charities: battered women's shelters, low income marriage counseling charities, substance abuse clinics, and so on. Folks that helped those that you've hurt. I can't fix the damage you've done, but I can help them help others. That's the greater good, Simon. Not replicating the same stupid game that broke you, changing the rules a bit, and slapping a big 'philanthropy' label on it."

I took a drag on my cigarette. "But that's what guys like you do, isn't it? Take an idea, change it just the tiniest bit to claim it's yours, and then turn it loose. Externalize all of the costs that you can. Settle out of court and slap NDAs on the people that get hurt by your greed. 'Disrupt' the market by ignoring any kind of licensing or safety boards, then count on public outcry and lawyers to get you out of any real trouble.

"Your useless fake philanthropy, your fauxlanthropy, does nothing but add the vaguest sheen of respectability to what you do. It doesn't fool anyone but the simps, Richards. But that's the only people it's supposed to fool, right? How hard do you laugh at the men you've 'helped?'"

Richards shouted, "I was doing a good thing! They needed to be out of their marriages! The whores needed to be punished!"

Then it was my turn to pause as an uncomfortable realization dawned. "You really believe that, don't you?" He looked away. "God, you're not just a sociopath, you're an idiot, too."

I leaned in close. "Hey, Simon, do you want to know the funny thing? The really, really funny thing?"

He spat out, "What?"

"You were right about Erin. I've had a year to think about this, and if you'd come to me and told me that was how she was going to act, I'd probably have believed you. Yeah, I would have tried to get us into counseling, but it likely wouldn't have helped. Of all the women you seduced, she was exactly the type of person that you thought she was."

Richards' expression was pure bewilderment. "Then... then why? Why are you doing this?" A glance at the screen told me everything had gone through. I picked up the weapon and leveled it at him. His eyes went wide with fear. "Please, don't--"

My eyes narrowed. My face twisted with rage. Only now did I let him see how much I truly hated him. "Because she was mine, and you took her." My finger twitched. A door slammed on the life of Simon Richards.

I'd never killed a man before. I hope I never do again. But in that moment, I felt no more for him than I would for a venomous serpent that I had to put down. He was a vile, dangerous thing that didn't deserve to live among decent people. Did taking his life make me somehow less human? Did it put a stain on my soul? Maybe. But better to risk an eternal reward than live with knowing I had the power to make the world a better place and didn't.

As I stood, I popped a flash drive out of the laptop, then grabbed a couple of things from the fridge. Tre watched with fear as I returned to him with a syringe filled with a clear liquid. "Look, man, I won't say anything, I--"

I tried to project calm. "Relax, Tre. If I wanted to kill you, I'd just use the gun. This--" I gestured with the needle. "-- is insurance for me and an alibi for you. Just a sedative; you'll be out for a few hours, and I'll be... well, you don't need to worry about that. Better you don't know." I held up the USB stick. "This has a bitcoin wallet on it worth about a million dollars, care of your former employer. When I'm safely away, I'll contact you with the password. All you have to do is take your medicine, have a nap, and then tell the cops that you were ambushed before you even got to the door. Someone grabbed you from behind, stuck you, and that's the last thing you remember."

The big man eyed me suspiciously. "Why? I worked for the bastard. Why would you let me go?"

I shrugged. "Like I said, you were the only person that treated me halfway decent on that island. That's not enough by itself, but it was a start. You tried to soften the blow, when everyone else tried to fuck with me. And you've got kids; that's what tipped the balance. You get to live because of them. You get the money because you ain't getting hired for this kind of gig again, and you have to provide for them."

He slowly nodded. "Okay. Alright." He shifted his arm around as best he could, given that he was cuffed to the radiator. It amused me when he winced as the needle went in. "'I do not envy the headache you will have when you wake, but in the meantime rest well and dream of large women.' Goodnight, Fezzik." Tre quietly laughed as he nodded off.

I smashed Richards' laptop with a hammer, disassembled my weapon, and left my apartment with those items plus a small suitcase. A quick drive to the river and the evidence went into the water. Another quick drive, this one to a private airfield, and I was off to a country with no extradition, complete with a new identity.

Why didn't I punish Erin? Her existence was her punishment. Richards had clocked her: she'd never be happy with enough, only with more. Between that desperate, greedy existence and the fact that the companies Richards acquired were inevitably drained of resources and shuttered, she'd have enough setbacks in the next couple of years to last her a lifetime.

And me? I was an anonymous American on a beach with enough money to not have to answer questions. I found love after a time; Quang provided me with a happy marriage and three beautiful children. I never doubted her fidelity or her affection for me. Sure as hell beats living a life in constant pursuit of revenge.