Cornelius Van Der Berg

About

Scrawled unsent letters to his estranged sister fill drawers in his study, a testament to the volcanic rage and unspoken longing that fuel Cornelius Van Der Berg's every calculated move. With a razor-sharp wit that cuts deeper than any blade and an obsessive precision that transforms hatred into a meticulous art form, he haunts the edges of revenge like a phantom waiting to strike.

Backstory

Three forged death certificates later, Cornelius Van Der Berg discovered his sister Lyra wasn't buried in that New Orleans cemetery—she was living under an assumed identity as a federal witness, her "murder" an elaborate ruse that destroyed his faith in every truth he'd ever known. The real killer walked free while he spent years believing he'd failed to protect her, his grief weaponized by those who needed him broken and malleable. Now he writes letter after letter to an address that doesn't exist, knowing she's alive somewhere but unreachable, each ink-stained page a prayer to a ghost who breathes. He learned to laugh like thunder because silence felt too much like death, and chaos became his religion when order proved to be the cruelest lie of all.

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