Talk to me nicely

“For the umpteenth time, Mom, I’m not ready,” Simon said, leaning in to plant a light kiss on her cheek. He straightened her diamond brooch, then stretched his arms slightly. Two maids immediately stepped forward to fasten the gold cufflinks on his tailored shirt. “And who exactly do you think you’re telling that?” his mother, Lilian Royce, asked with a sharp arch of her brow. Her voice carried that perfect elegance — the kind that could silence an entire boardroom. “Your father would be rolling in his grave right now.” Simon chuckled. “Mom, you look rather dashing today, you know?” He winked, knowing she’d catch his attempt to deflect. “Oh, please,” Lilian scoffed, rising from the chaise lounge. “You’re trying to change the subject again. Do something about this loneliness of yours before I do it for you.” She glided out of his massive bedroom — a space lined with dark mahogany, oil paintings, and artifacts that looked like they belonged in a museum. Every inch of the room whispered money — the old kind, not the flashy kind. Downstairs, the chandelier caught the morning sun, scattering diamonds across the marble floor. Lilian opens the curtains — it’s a tradition she likes to do to start her day ,took her usual seat at the long dining table, the kind that could host a royal banquet. “Amron,” she called to the butler, without looking up from her tea. “Yes, madam?” The man bowed slightly, his silver tray perfectly balanced. “Let my son know breakfast is ready.” “Yes, madam,” Amron replied, hurrying up the grand staircase. Moments later, he knocked gently on Simon’s door. “Good morning, Master. Your mother requests your presence for breakfast.” Simon glanced up from his phone, his tie now perfectly knotted. “My good man, how are you today? I heard you were feeling a bit under the weather.” “I’m very well now, Master,” Amron replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Good. Let my mother know I’ll join her soon.” “Very well, sire.” He bowed and disappeared down the hall. Not long after, Simon descended the grand staircase — tall, composed, the morning light catching the expensive watch on his wrist. “Mother,” he began, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve, “I won’t be able to enjoy the chef’s masterpiece today. The company’s been blowing up my phone.” Lilian didn’t look surprised. “Of course. I knew you’d come up with some sort of excuse.” “I’ll make it up to you,” Simon promised, pressing a quick kiss to her temple as he reached for his briefcase. “Wait.” Her voice trembled slightly — rare for her. “Are you… speaking with your brother?” Simon froze, just for a minute, then offered a faint, smile. “Have a good day, Mom.” And just like that, he left for work Timothy, Simon’s personal assistant, walked briskly toward him, opening the sleek black Maybach’s door . “Good morning, sir,” he greeted, voice crisp. Simon slid into the backseat, adjusting his cufflinks. “Timothy, what’s going on with Tulip & Co.? They’ve been flooding my inbox with threats.” Timothy swallowed, keeping his eyes forward. “Yes, sir. It’s… been an issue for the entire board, sir. But we’re working on it.” Simon’s tone sharpened. “I don’t want working on it, Timothy. I want it handled. And this time, make sure it doesn’t get to my mother. I don’t need her thinking I can’t manage the company.” “Yes, sir. Understood.” Silence settled over the car, broken only by the faint hum of the city and the low purr of the engine. That peace shattered a few minutes later when Simon noticed a commotion ahead — a young woman arguing heatedly with a cab driver in the middle of the road. “Pull over,” Simon said. The driver hesitated but obeyed. As the car slowed, Simon frowned. “Why is she screaming like that on the street? Has she no manners? Young girls these days…” He rolled down the tinted window. “Excuse me, miss. What’s all this fuss about? You’re far too beautiful to be acting like this.” The girl turned sharply, eyes blazing. “Hey, Ken doll,” she snapped, her sarcasm cutting through the morning air. Even Timothy couldn’t hide a smirk. “Why don’t you roll your fancy window back up and mind your goddamn business?” Simon blinked, incredulous. “What did you just say? You don’t even know me and you’re causing a traffic jam.” “She’s definitely a troublemaker, sir,” the driver muttered. “I agree with you,” Simon replied dryly. “Oh, of course you would,” the girl shot back. “You both share the same empty brain! And you—” she pointed at the cap driver “—think you can cheat me because I’m young? Not today!” Simon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Timothy, handle the driver. We’re leaving. Some of us have real work to do.” The girl scoffed. “Oh sure, just throw money at everything, huh? Daddy’s boy! Everyone bows to you, right? I won’t!” Simon didn’t respond. He simply rolled the window up, shutting her . Timothy stepped out to sort things quickly while she stormed off, muttering curses under her breath. As the car pulled away, Simon exhaled sharply. “Women these days are so ill-mannered. This…this right here is why I refuse to get married. But no, my mother won’t ever understand.” “You’re absolutely right, boss,” Timothy replied dutifully. By the time they arrived at the company, they were late. Simon barely stepped out of the car before three assistants were already waiting with files, schedules, and coffee. Without missing a beat, he straightened his suit and walked straight into the boardroom .