The Billionaire Thought His Secretary Died Seven Years Ago — Until Her 7-Year-Old Son Reached For His Hand at a Charity Gala

Xavier moved with explosive, blinding speed.

He closed the distance in two massive strides, grabbing the barrel of Richard’s pistol and twisting it violently upward. The gun fired a single shot harmlessly into the ceiling plaster.

With his other hand, Xavier delivered a crushing, flawless punch directly to Richard’s jaw. The sickening crack echoed through the room.

Richard collapsed backward, dropping the weapon, crashing hard into his expensive mahogany desk.

Before Richard could even groan, Xavier was on top of him. The billionaire grabbed the abusive monster by the collar of his gray suit, hauling him up just to slam him back down against the hardwood floor.

"You stole seven years of my life," Xavier roared, the sheer, explosive volume of his voice making the windows rattle. "You locked my wife in a cage! You threatened my son!"

"Xavier, please!" Richard wailed pathetically, blood pouring from his nose. "Have mercy! I'll leave the country!"

"You aren't leaving the country," Xavier growled, completely devoid of human empathy.

He didn't kill him. A bullet was too quick.

Xavier stood up, adjusting his suit jacket, looking down at the ruined, bleeding man on the floor.

"Take him," Xavier ordered his lead security contractor. "The FBI has the encrypted files proving he sold corporate secrets to foreign entities. Hand him over to the feds. Tell the judge I want him in solitary confinement for corporate treason and kidnapping. Deny him bail."

"No! Please!" Richard shrieked like a banshee as the massive contractors grabbed him by the arms, dragging him violently out of the office.