chapter 8

Michael

"Sometimes, I think you forget whose name is on your paycheck every month!"

My assistant, Daisy, raised a brow at me, and I reigned in my anger. I took a deep breath and faced the windows, taking in the beautiful view. I listened to the man on the other end of the line apologizing, but I was not interested in apologies. Never, in the history of my family legacy, had the Fletcher fortune been enhanced by apologies. And what people didn't realize was that it wasn't my vanity that fueled my passion for succeeding but the responsibilities that I had. To most, I was just a thirty-four-year-old man who had been born with a platinum spoon in his mouth. In truth, I was just a couple of millions shy of becoming a billionaire, but that wealth supported many people.

I had thousands of employees and charities that needed me to be the best I could be. There were scholarships in my family name that sent hundreds of kids to school each year, not to mention the medical donations that saved th