I Raised My Husband's Love Child...Then He Shot Me

Chapter 16

Xavier's POV

The knock came again.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink. My muscles were taut, my body a tight ball of frustration.

The remnants of Rachel's scent clung to my skin like a ghost, and it was driving me mad.

Damn it!

I ran a hand through my damp hair, trying to shake off the feeling as I adjusted my pants and made my way to the door.

My body was still reacting to her—her soft gasps, the way she melted against me, the taste of her lips.

I cursed under my breath. I needed to clear my head.

Yanking the door open, I glared at my butler, irritation radiating from me.

"What?" I growled, the edge of my patience worn thin.

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the storm brewing in me.

"Michael has left, sir. I thought you'd want an update on the investigation. Also, the private investigator you hired is waiting in your study."

I let out a sharp breath, nodding. "Fine."

I followed him down the hall, but my mind was spinning.

I couldn't stop thinking about Rachel—her skin against mine, her lips, her eyes darkening with desire, her body melting into mine.

But then the image of Michael grabbing her flashed in my mind, and my lust turned to rage.

That bastard dared to touch what's mine—hurt her. The thought of it made my blood boil.

By the time I reached my study, I was ready to rip someone apart.

My PI was waiting, a thick folder in his hands. He stood up as soon as I entered, nodding in greeting.

"What do you have for me?" I asked, not bothering to sit.

He didn't waste any time.

"There were several large transactions made to a Swiss offshore account just days before your mother's accident," he said, placing the folder on my desk. "It took some digging, but I traced the account."

I flipped open the file, scanning through it. My eyes locked onto a name.

"This is the account owner?" I asked, a suspicion creeping up my spine.

"Yes. A young man. Barely in his twenties."

I frowned. "How the hell does a kid have access to that kind of money?"

"My guess? It wasn't his money," the PI said. "The account was probably set up in his name to cover someone else's tracks. We'll know for sure once we talk to him."

I snapped the file shut. "Where is he now?"

"My men have him," the PI confirmed. "I figured you'd want to handle this yourself."

A slow smirk curled my lips. "Good."

He nodded once before leaving the room. Just as he stepped out, my butler moved in.

"What about Michael?" he asked, his voice calm but tense beneath the surface.

I exhaled, my fingers curling into fists. "I want to break every damn finger he laid on my woman."

My butler stiffened. "Rachel? Your woman?"

I rubbed my face in frustration. "She's driving me insane."

There was a pause, and then he spoke carefully. "You need to stay focused, sir. You can't afford distractions."

"I know that," I muttered, pushing off the desk. "That's why we need to move faster. I'm done pretending."

Before he could respond, my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen—it was my PI.

"We have the boy," he said. "You should come now."

No hesitation. "I'm on my way."

I turned to my butler. "Come with me."

We moved quickly through the estate, taking a hidden passage to avoid the main halls. The air grew cooler as we descended to the underground level, the kind of place where secrets were kept.

When we reached the secure area, I saw him.

The boy was sitting in a chair, wrists bound, his eyes darting around the dim room. He looked younger than I expected—barely twenty, with wide, scared eyes. He swallowed nervously when he saw me.

I stepped forward, my face unreadable.

"What happened three years ago?" I asked coldly. "And why is there a fortune sitting in your account?"

He hesitated, his fingers twitching against the rope. "I—I don't know," he stammered.

I tilted my head. "Wrong answer."

He swallowed hard. "I swear! The account was set up by my father. He said it was my trust fund."

I narrowed my eyes. "Your father?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes. He…he told me about the account before he went to prison. He said the money was for me. I never questioned it."

I exchanged a look with my butler.

"What's your father in prison for?" I asked.

The boy tensed, his voice barely a whisper. "A car crash."

Something cold crept down my spine.

A car crash. Three years ago.

My mother's accident.

I stepped closer, locking eyes with him. "Tell me everything."

His hands shook. "I don't know much. Just that my father said the account was to take care of me."

I inhaled sharply, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together.

I turned to my butler. "Make arrangements. We're paying his father a visit."