1.

I am sitting in my office going over a contract on my hologram screen when I hear a knocking coming from the door, I quickly close the screen and check my surveillance to see who it is, Charles, my wonderful assistant. I press a button that's hidden underneath my desk and the door opens, in walks Charles with a grin on his face.

"Morning Xander," he greets cheerfully. Charles was more than just an assistant, he is also my best friend, a weird guy always optimistic and happy and sometimes very annoying.

Charles and I go back a long way, before the death of my father Desmond Forsythe, and my mother Sarah Tiaz. Charles is the only person who has remained my friend, everyone else was just my friend because of the money I had and the fame. Charles genuinely cared about me even after I changed and became a sexist jerk; he stayed by my side just to make sure that I am okay.

"We got a new disk this morning from South Africa and it's a good one, I can't wait to see your reaction when you find out who made this offer," Charles says excitedly. He places the disk on my desk and slides it towards me, I catch it before it lands on the floor, shaking my head at his carelessness.

"How many times must I tell you to be careful with these things and not to go through my stuff?" I say looking at him, he shrugs and sits down at my desk.

Charles is also very nosy, he feels that it is necessary to read all my offers and contracts before I do and boy does it annoy me sometimes but I'm getting used to it because I get to hear about what he thinks before I see it, like a movie review, if you catch my drift.

"Xan, I don't know why you are getting all grumpy, but you know I can't resist reading these things," he says. I place the disk in my briefcase and re-open my hollo screen.

"Sometimes I like to give you the benefit of the doubt you know," I say, Charles, laughs and sits on the chair, ruffling his hair a little.

Charles is good-looking, like a Gucci model good looking and sometimes I'd like to think that he is better-looking than me but I'm a man of confidence, so I never put myself down. With his brown eyes, and dark chocolate hair, he looks just like the singer Nick Jonas before he plunged to his death after his wife cheated on him, anyway, he is taller than me but has less muscle, I am much more masculine and an inch shorter.

"So, I'm going to go right ahead and spoil it for you, South Africa wants you to build the African headquarters of Forsythe Industries in Sandton," he says, playing with the snow globe on my desk.

"Really," I say, raising a brow, "That does not sit well with me. Why would they want to do that?"

"I have no idea why, but I think it's a clever idea," he says with a wink. I roll my eyes and groan at Charles and his salesman skills.

"I can't take your word for it; I have to read through it first," I say, looking at him.

"Alright then, I'm going to go back to work is there anything you need?" he asks as he gets up.

"Yes, can you book me a flight there I have to go check up on them anyway,"

"Sure, are we going together or you're flying solo?"

"Together, the last time they gave me a woman to be my assistant and I hated it," I say, frustrated.

Let me tell you something, I hate women, they are attention looking seeking whores and only want men for their money, trust me, I learned that from second-hand experience.

"Really dude?' I'm quite sure you're being dramatic," he says dismissively.

"She kept looking at me and throwing herself at me," I say defensively. Women with their heavy makeup and revealing clothing, make me want to cringe.

"Well for one, you're attractive and you're the richest guy in the world, I mean you practically rule the world," Charles said, "And your dress pants don't do you any favors, you have a nice ass bro"

"Charles that's highly inappropriate we are in the workplace," I say trying not to laugh. Charles then bursts out laughing making me groan.

Charles had no boundaries or filters when he spoke, he never cared about what he was saying or when he was saying it.

"You know I'm just teasing Xander," Charles says, shaking his head at me.

"You're a disgrace to mankind," I say.

"Says the 24-year-old virgin, who still thinks women have cooties." Charles laughs. I feel my cheeks heat up in shame and did I mention that I'm still a virgin in many ways? Yes, I know it's pitiful but who knows what diseases women carry?

"Get out," I say loudly. Charles laughs harder and leaves my office. The reason why I hate women was that my dad raised me to believe that women were evil. After I had found out what my mother had done to my dad, my hatred for women grew. My dad always said they make men weak and are a distraction. My dad fell for my mother's little tricks, and he almost ended up dead and broke because of the woman.

I haven't touched or looked at a woman in interest ever in my life and I don't plan on doing that anytime soon or ever for that matter but just to clear things up I AM NOT GAY.

I carry on with the contract I am working on, the Japanese contract, they think they can steal my empire and make it theirs, but they make a good offer I'm just going to have to change a few rules and terms to suit my business and theirs. After four hours of hardcore brainwork, Charles returns to my office.

"We are going for lunch?" he asks, peeking into my office.

"It's lunchtime already,

" I said, surprised.

"Yes Xander," he says stepping into my office, "Are you coming or not?"

"Sure," I say, I can't work on an empty stomach. I pack my iPad and Mac Book and place them in my safe under my desk and I switch on my security system. Charles rolls his eyes at my cautious behavior, as a businessman you need to learn how to keep your possessions safe and secure, am I right, or am I right? You never know who is waiting for the opportunity to stab you in the back.

"Xander let's go, it's taco Tuesdays and you know how Phil gets, that guy doesn't know how to share," he says impatiently. Charles also loves his food more than his life, like me.

"Relax I'm done," I say, I grab my jacket and we leave my office. We walk to the elevator and go down to the second floor or as the staff likes to call it the floating restaurant, why? I don't know.

We arrive at the second floor and it's empty and that's unusual for taco Tuesdays, I suddenly feel anxious.

"Where is everybody?" I ask walking around the place. I hear shouting and Charles rushes to the window and his face goes pale, I quickly rush to the window and look down to see a strike. A protest, they are protesting, that was illegal, but I guess they were smart and decided to do it altogether knowing I ant fire them, I need them all.

"This can't be right," I whisper to myself, in complete denial of the whole situation.

This has never happened nor is it supposed to, with men holding posters and banners, some with weapons in their hands, yelling for freedom and equality. Ever since the world was rebuilt striking or my father banned any form of protest, it is classified as illegal.

"Those ungrateful bastards," I yell, kicking a chair, "Charles did you know about this?"

He shakes his head in fear, "No."

"How did I let this happen?" I ask myself, I'm always too vigilant, how did I let this get past me, let alone Charles, my eyes and ears of this place, the most trusted guy within the building?

"Call the police, we need to get out of here," Charles says, walking away from the window. I stood frozen, not moving, listening to the crowd, I knew they wanted my head on a stick and paraded the streets with it.

Just then security burst through the door, already holding weapons and ready for combat, they were about five or six of them; they had helmets on so I couldn't tell who they were.

"Are you okay sir?" one of them asks, stepping towards me. I snap out of my daze and look around me.

"Yes, I'm fine. I need you to get rid of the crowd," I yell, "Try to catch as many as you can, don't kill any of them."

"We already have the police and swat team on their way sir." he replies, "We need to get you to safety.

I nod my head, "I just need to get my things then we can go."

"Harris follow him, meet us at the elevators on his floor" a man yells who I'm assuming is their commander.

"Yes sir," Harris replies, I grab my jacket and we make our way to my office.

After all these years this is something, I wasn't expecting to happen. Why? Am I not giving them enough, I pay them well, I give them more than should keep them happy, their children go to school for free, and they get many benefits. What am I doing wrong? Where did I go wrong?