Late mornings and mischievous siblings.

Beep... Beep...

The sound of his alarm clock cut through the silence, jolting Charles awake.

"Ahh!" Charles groaned, rubbing his head where he had bumped it.

He winced, feeling the ache in his skull.

He had that dream again.

"Ugh, when will this stop?" he muttered, getting out of bed.

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to tame the unruly strands which fell back onto his face, making him look adorable. Even in the disheveled state of waking up, Charles exuded a natural charm that could make anyone's heart skip a beat. Blessed with good looks, tall stature, a captivating voice, and an overflowing charm, Charles seemed to have been handcrafted to capture hearts. If handsomeness was the key to heaven, Charles wouldn't have any trouble securing his place.

Charles got up, heading to the bathroom to freshen up. He didn't bother wearing a shirt to bed because, frankly, who needs one when you have a chest that could make anyone weak in the knees? He was the epitome of "fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars."

After washing his face, he glanced at himself in the mirror, water dripping from his tousled hair and his pink lips pressed together. "Good morning, Charles," he greeted himself with a bright smile.

He moved on to brush his teeth and take a quick shower, emerging from the bathroom looking dashing in an expensive black suit. The top three buttons remained undone, accentuating the golden necklace resting against his broad, muscular chest. A sleek black wristwatch adorned his wrist, completing his polished look. He was ready for work.

A few minutes later...

Hamilton's International

A sleek white car pulled up and parked in front of the company's building.

Pascal, the driver, swiftly exited the vehicle and rushed to open the car door for his boss, Charles.

Charles stepped out of the car, adjusting his tie and styling his hair with an air of arrogance.

"I swear, I'll fire you if you ever act like a snail again," he rudely chided Pascal, though the driver wasted no time in fulfilling his duty.

"Apologies, boss," Pascal respectfully replied, bowing his head. Charles, however, hardly acknowledged him, as he often treated others with impatience and arrogance.

With his usual air ofpride, Charles walked into the building and made his way to the elevator, his neatly styled hair glistening under the fluorescent lights.

As the elevator doors opened, Charles stepped inside and pressed the button for the hiring manager's offices on the top floor.

Office One...

Charles entered the office and spotted Japheth, one of the managers whom he actually liked to talk to from time to time.

"Where the hell is Rodney?" Charles thundered, his impatience evident.

Japheth stuttered, "Sir, he... he took a leave. He's sick."

"He's fired. Get me a new secretary," Charles ordered coldly, turning to leave the office.

"But sir..."

"Do you want to be fired too?" Charles interrupted, glancing back at Japheth with an intimidating glare.

"No sir... I'll... I'll find a new secretary before the end of today," Japheth stammered, realizing it was useless to argue.

"Good. Don't make me repeat myself," Charles said dismissively as he walked away.

Japheth let out a sigh, muttering to himself, "He's so mean. Poor Rodney. Now, where do I even begin? If I don't find a new secretary today, I'm in deep trouble."

Japheth rushed to his computer, determined to find a suitable replacement as quickly as possible.

Beep... beep... beep...

Flower's phone alarm jolted her out of her sleep, but she groaned and tried to ignore it, not wanting to wake up just yet.

With a slight whine, she opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. Her gaze landed on the clock, and her eyes widened in realization.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so late for work!"

She swiftly discarded her clothes and rushed naked into the bathroom.

Standing under the shower, she let the water cascade over her body, washing away her sleepiness.

Her slender arms worked the soap through her inky black hair and across her flawless face. With her glossy white skin, flat stomach, and tiny waist, she possessed the kind of figure that any girl would envy.

After a quick shower, Flower stepped out of the bathroom, grabbing a white towel from the rack to dry herself off.

Her hourglass figure, tall and slim physique, pretty face, and long wavy hair defined her natural beauty.

She quickly dressed in black shining jeans, a white shirt, and black boots.

She didn't bother packing her hair or even checking out herself in the mirror before storming out of the room with her handbag on her shoulder.

Flower rushed out of her room and joined everyone in the living room where they were having breakfast.

"Good morning, Flower," Isla Cunningham, Flower's mother, greeted with a smile while feeding Riley Cunningham, Flower's father.

"Good morning, Mom. Good morning, Dad," Flower responded.

"Good morning, sunshine," Riley murmured in a low voice.

Flower then turned to her siblings, wearing a menacing glare on her face. If looks could kill, they would have been dead long ago. They avoided her gaze and innocently continued eating.

"If you hadn't kept me up late last night, I wouldn't have overslept. And you didn't even think about waking me up," Flower scolded.

"What did we do this time, sis? If we had woken you up, you would have probably thrown a tantrum, and we don't want that," Honeybell Cunningham stated innocently, her hazel blue eyes wide.

"And besides, this isn't the first time you're going to work late," Harrison Cunningham added, his mouth full of spinach pasta.

Flower glared at them and threw her handbag at Harry, but he quickly dodged it. The bag fell, spilling its contents.

"Flower, I suggest you come eat something and go to work. There's no point arguing with your siblings. The more you fight, the later you'll be," Isla Cunningham cooed.

Flower sighed, heading over to her bag to pack up the spilled contents. She turned back to her siblings, her glare still present.

"This isn't over. We'll talk later," she said firmly, then sat down in a chair at the dining table, biting into her food with the ferocity of a hungry wolf.