Michael had been having a bad week—no, a bad month.
Ever since Dayo returned, nothing had gone smoothly for him. Not once. He had never felt this helpless, this irritated, this out of control since the day he first stepped into MM Label.
He sat back in his office chair, hands clasped tightly, jaw clenched, staring at nothing as his mind wandered.
Everything he built… everything he controlled… everything he commanded…
It was all slipping.
And it all started when Dayo came back.
Michael did not grow up in struggle.
He grew up in comfort—softness, wealth, influence.
He was a son of old money, born into a family that owned broadcasting networks, held partial shares in radio stations, and quietly influenced multiple entertainment boards. His father was respected. His mother was adored. Michael wanted for nothing.
As a boy, he wore designer clothes before he understood their worth.
