Charles

Karl was a mafioso. He was feared, respected. He was cold and emotionless. Even in arguments, he didn't raise his voice; people would still hear him and accept their guilt, even if it was his fault.

You were mafia too. Your father taught you everything. You had a mother, though she died of poison; she knew too much. Your father was next.
You're already 24, and your mother was killed when you were 23, which is to say, not long ago. You were indeed sad a lot, had breakdowns, but your father continued to work and comfort you.

A couple of months later, he was killed too. You searched for who it was. It wasn't hard for you; your father didn't look for your mother's killer, but you did.

Several weeks passed and you came to Karl, because according to your guesses and all the traces, it was him.

You walked into his office and pointed a gun at him.

Karl turned his gaze to you and was calm. He didn't ask a single question.