MR BILLIONAIRE AND HIS ASSISTANT

. I had discovered sitting behind a desk all day could be very painful. Who would havethought sitting on one’s ass, staring at numbers and talking on the phone, could be so physicallyand mental

tired and my b

lock and I was all alone in the office. It was nothingnew. I knew it took a lot of hard work and a lot of hours to generate numbers like t

unreachable. Iknew better. I knew what we could do, and I had been right. The company was making moneyhand over fist, and I knew it was all because of me and my direction. I had ta

office door. Ilooked up to see the elderly office cleaning lady, Miss Jaime,

said with a friendly smile,

yourself into an early grave.Why are you still here? You should be

Michael pleas

have fun and enjoy your lifewhile you still have your health.

s an awkward adolescent. She felt more like mygrandmother than the woman who kept our offices clean and tidy. I had hired her several

ound like I’ve got one foot in

nish. “It goes by so fast. Y

st-minute things. I’ll be out of

look. “You better, young man, or I will chas

ld do it. She had done it

l be out of your hair.” I promised her with my

ute little smile isn’t goi

t had been a futile a

I knew I had verylittle time before she came back in and kicked me out. It wa

t the crude drawing of a watch. I was not an artist. I did not share my father’s talent toimagine a design

nd had started thecompany thirty years ago. His watchmaking business had star

ducing on a much more practical level. Quality was stillwhat the Accardi name was known for, but I wanted to branch out. The more branches thecompany had, the more revenue. I wanted to make so much money that for generations

e watch I was attempting to create looked like itcost thousands of dollars, but it would be around the three-hundred-dollar price range. Th

that were made by hand from start to finish. Every diamond would be carefullyplaced. Every detail would be attended to. The quality would be head and shoulders aboveanything else that was out there. The de

taking small steps in doing so, wanting to test thewaters. It had paid off. The few stores we had opened were doing well. Sales wer

aime said, opening

, I’mgoing,” I told her, standing up and stuffing the report and sketchbook into my briefcas

y father had always insisted on Italian suits that were perfectlytailored. They made a man looked refined and well put together. It showed a man who caredabout his appearance, which was important. It was one of the things

, I froze. “Oh shit,” I

rong?” Ja

supposed to have dinner

her waiting. You bett

h the lobby of the building our offices were in andnodded at the doorman, not stopping for small talk. I was late—really late. I headed for myMer

old man behind the counter gree

ple sandwiches?” I asked,

thing for lunch almost every single day of his life. Even whenhe had plenty of money in the bank, he chose to eat a crappy san

ke fresh sushi and

as he put together the

all right,” I said, not

munity but around the Bronx in general.If only they could see him now. I doubted anyone would recognize him. He certainly wouldn’tknow them—or maybe he

lot of patience. I passed the Cedar Creek Assisted Living sign and cringed. I hatedseeing my dad in the home,

king my watch as Imoved. It was almost eight. Thankfully, the home didn’t en

rdi.” One of the aides

s still up,” I

in his room. He ha

lly?” I asked, unable

it was earlier, but you know how thes

stand. I tried to

can predict these moments. You’re

walking down the h

hat to expect, but I couldn’t help but get myh