Kyle sat on the edge of the bed, his mind filled with worry and determination. He looked over at Nikita, who sat across from him, her face etched with anxiety. He reached out and gently took her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Why would you think like that?” Kyle queried softly, praying she would see reason.
“The workers went on strike because of the price of your company stocks falling,” Nikita stated, looking sideways at Kyle, her hand limp and lifeless in his.
Kyle looked heavenward for a minute, trying to carefully choose his next words.
“My factory workers own shares in my company stocks. I’m a firm believer of giving your workers a share of the profits reaped from their hand work. They were not happy to see the value of their stocks dropping, despite the fact that
