Henry Ford a wealthy musician, a man who only considers his opinion as the final, perhaps if anyone had tried to argue with him, he would not have changed this one attitude. But no one had ever raised an eyebrow to whatever he says, it was often considered as final. Celebrity words, no one dared question them- that was it for Henry Ford.

He only employs those who he thinks would work for him without complaining and complicating things for him, maybe that has been the reason he makes sure they work for him without giving a thought about him being too bossy. In one word, he hates it when he is proved wrong.

As Henry sat on the dining table picking at his food, he knew he was not ready to go to the hospital to check himself like his secretary Leila had suggested. He would rather pretend he is okay than go there and allow someone to diagnose him of something that doesn't mean anything to him. He loathed the idea of someone telling him he was sick and needed to use his medicine.

"Rubbish" he muttered under his breath as he dropped the spoon, leaving the table angrily.

"Sir Henry? Are you not going to finish your food again?" Leila asked worriedly.

Over the years, Leila has been the only one Henry deemed fit to come that close to him. He tried other secretaries and has barely spent a week with them when he either stopped them from working with him or they resigned themselves when they could not cope with his attitude.

"Is it compulsory that I finish this food?" Henry asked, not the bit interested in the topic.

"You will always ask if it is compulsory, what if it is not?" She stiffed in place to see the expression on his face.

Now, that was what Henry loved. He loves to see people see him as an authority, respect him when they see him, and not just talk any how to him.

"If it is not compulsory, there is no need for me to eat. I hate to do things that are not compulsory" Henry reached for his pocket to bring his phone.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"It is compulsory, if you don't eat, you will not survive" she said, almost quietly.

"I hate to think that is the reason I have to eat, but then, I will eat today, because I don't want to die and…" he paused deliberating on if he should tell her that he was not ready to go to the hospital to check himself up.

"You are going to eat?" She asked rather excitedly.

"But not this" he pointed to the food on the table, "I will eat in my room. Bring another food for me, I will eat whatever you bring to me" he adjusted the bandana in his head.

Henry Ford, a charming man in his late twenties, he would turn thirty in two years time, with striking good looks. He has thick, wavy hair that falls just above his forehead and frames his face perfectly. The color of his hair is a warm shade of brown that catches the light in just the right way, making it look almost golden.

Henry's most captivating feature is undoubtedly his sparkling, deep-set blue eyes. They're framed by thick, dark lashes that make them appear even larger and more mesmerizing. Whenever he smiles, his eyes light up, and his whole face radiates with joy and warmth.

His smile is his secret weapon, with perfectly straight, white teeth that gleam in the sunlight, that has been the reason he has a chain of girls around him. He barely spent two months with any woman in a relationship.

Henry's physique is fit and athletic, with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest. He's not overly muscular, but his toned arms and abs suggest that he takes care of his body. His skin is smooth and tanned, adding to his overall appeal.

And when he speaks, his voice is smooth as silk.

Overall, Henry Ford is a handsome man with a cute charm that makes him irresistible to those around him, despite his inability to allow anyone's opinion over his.

A sigh escaped his mouth as he checked his phone and saw the messages from fans. It will take him a lot of years if he were to reply to them.

The music sheet on the table stared at him. He wondered how he was going to know everything there. He dreads the illness that seems to be a threat to his career. Lately he had found out that anything he read would always leave his brain. Even the music he composed had been flying off his head, he could only watch helplessly.

"Just read, it will stay, '' he muttered to himself and forced himself to pick the book he had written the songs a moment ago.

Staring at the words he had scribbled down, he had no clue how the tone of the song went. No clue about the beat, and he would not have been sure the song was his if he had not written it down.

He tried a last time to remember but gave up the idea when he was rewarded with a throbbing headache. Jumping on the bed he placed his headphones on his head, at least he should be able to listen to songs to keep himself busy.

He heard a knock at the door, he knew his secretary was at the door, probably with his food. His appetite was gone, and he would not be able to stand the look on Leila's face if he opened the door for her and told her he was not interested in the food any longer. He would rather lock the door and pretend not to hear.

His phone beeped. At first he didn't want to check the message, but when it beeped again he was forced to check it.

He was set into panic. He was not sure he was seeing right. checking it again, He screamed happily and quickly opened the door to Leila.