The Billionaire Was About to Slam the Door... Until the Little Girl Whispered 5 Words

The heavy doors swung open wider, and two federal agents in dark suits—along with the chief of corporate compliance—stepped into the room.

Peter backed away until his legs hit the edge of the mahogany table. "You can't do this! We're brothers! I built this empire with you!"

"You tried to steal it from the ruins of my life," Richard replied coldly. "Take him out."

As federal agents gripped Peter’s arms and slapped steel cuffs around his wrists, Peter’s composure completely shattered. He thrashed against them, his face twisting into a mask of pure venom as he was dragged toward the elevators.

"You think you’ve won, Richard?!" Peter screamed, spitting the words as the elevator doors slid open. "You think that maid and her brat actually care about you?! They’re using you! When they bleed you dry, you'll still be sitting in that dark office alone, you miserable bastard!"

The doors closed, cutting off his shrieks.

The boardroom remained dead silent. The twenty-two board members stared at Richard, witnessing the rebirth of a titan who had finally clawed his way out of his own grave.

Arthur Vance cleared his throat, standing up slowly. "Richard... what are your orders?"

Richard looked down at the flash drive in Sterling's hand, then turned his gaze toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sprawling skyline of New York City. The sun was fully up now, cutting through the morning haze and flooding the room with brilliant, unfiltered light.

"Audit every subsidiary," Richard commanded, his voice steady, powerful, and absolute. "Fire anyone who took a single cent from Peter’s offshore accounts. And restructure the philanthropic foundation—allocate fifty million dollars immediately toward underprivileged families and single mothers in New York."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "A fifty-million-dollar endowment? May I ask what prompted that, Richard?"