He built his golden palace on a mountain of diamonds. He erected a skyscraper that dominates the skyline of the bustling metroplex. Everyday a dozen maids rushes to his bed and wake him, and then he trudges the soft, century-old Persian carpet to that gilded mirror to slick back his hair with the finest oil. After he has donned that handmade suit from Italy, he would take a seat in his 17th century French divan to sip British tea from Qing dynasty porcelain.

Everyday he twirls his shiny Swiss watch in his shiny limo as it takes him from the country he owns to the city he owns. From the lofty throne on the top floor of his towering skyscraper, he would look over a sea of clouds on stormy days and the toy cars, microscopic pedestrians, and the rest of the city’s skyline on sunny days. From his office, he would always see the horizon, but he would never see a drop of rain.

He owns a company that controls millions of lives and trillions of dollars, spreading from coast to coast, nation to nation, planet to planet. He topples governments and drains oceans. His wealth has no measure and his power knows no bounds. Everyday he twirls his shiny watch as he leans back on his lofty throne, looking down at the world that bows down to him.

A glimpse tells you that he is the epitome of a soulless businessman - penetrating eyes sharp as knives, a stern face as hard as marble, dark, slicked backed hair so polished it blinds people who look at it, and creases on his forehead that look like as if they are carved into his face forever.

He has no family, no friends, and no relationships - because people admired his wealth, feared his power, and loathed his character.

It seemed as if the portrayal of the stern and wealthy businessman ended here. But people change, eventually.

He was twirling his golden watch when he heard her come in. She closed the door with a soft click.
“Sir, there’s an executive meeting in twenty minutes,” she said.

He nodded absent-mindedly while he stared at a worker, dangling thousands of feet in the air, cleaning the windows of his office.

“Well, have a nice day, sir!” She swirled around in midair and began to march toward the door.

“No, hold on a minute.” He turned his chair to face her. “Tell John Miles to get his ugly a-”

He faltered when he met her eyes.

“Are you new here?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, sir!”

“Alright.” He said, staring at his shoes.

“Sir, were you about to say something?”

“Oh … oh right. Tell, John Miles to um, get his, I mean, come to my office.”

“Okay. Yes sir.”

She was about to reach for the door handle when he raised his hand, his pale face turned a shade of pink.
“How was your d-”

He stopped himself, his face colored a little more.

“No, that’s not what I meant. What tasks are they handing new employees?” He blurted out rather rapidly.
“I’m not an employee, sir. I’m an intern.”

“An intern!” he gasped. “You’re not staying!”

Too late. The words are already out. He swung his chair toward the window and stared wide-eyed at the dangling worker.

“I definitely hope that I will be hired, sir.” She offered a little girl’s smile, as if she was trying to stifle a laughter.

He did not reply, but continued to stare at the window.

“Well, good day, sir!”

“Wait! What’s your name?”

“Monica Jones, sir.”

“I - well, good day, Moni - I mean, Ms. Jones.”

Monica could contain her amusement no longer and giggled. “Sir … sir, you are so serious and so awkward all the time!”

Nobody ever said that - nobody dared to say that. But he wasn’t angry. He was so embarrassed that he turned red - bright, tomato juice red.

And with that Monica swirled around on her heels and left the room, leaving him staring dreamily at the spot where she just stood.

A minute later, John Miles appeared, shivering from head to toe, sweat pouring all over his face.

“Sir, I sincerely apologize, sir. But he’s extremely hard to find. Please, sir, give me two more days, and I promise that I will hunt down whoever leaked your trade secrets!”

Miles’ boss did not respond, but merely gazed absentmindedly.

“-and make whoever it is suffer as you wish!” Miles added desperately.

“What? Oh! Oh - no need. No need to worry, John. We should be more forgiving. Why don’t you have a cup of tea with me?”

As John Miles sipped his tea and soothed his nerves, he looked up at the man he feared so much, puzzled. And Miles noticed that his boss was smiling, smiling like a boy who got a new toy on the day of Christmas.
The next few days, an intern named Monica Jones appeared more often in the executive office. Bobby Valentine, the soulless businessman, was changing - for the better.