C1 Chapter 1

On the street, there’s a black vehicle in front, a white car in the middle, and then another black car following. A soothing track, Jada by Paloma Ford, was playing in the white car.

“I think you should prepare yourself since the boss is waiting for you at home.” A really attractive man wearing a dark blue suit sat next to the bodyguard driving, spoke to the passenger in the back seat. He went by the name Charles, a devoted man in his early thirties who has worked for the Smith family for over ten years, and was the personal assistant and guard to Bryon, Smiths’ middle child.

“Fuck!” Bryon cursed out. “I figured he’d be at his office or something.”

Byron is 180cm tall, a bodybuilder who has two piercings in each ear and tattoos on his back that extend to the back of his neck, giving him a bad boy look.

Among Smith’s sons, he is the most active and cheerful. With a big heart, he’s caring and charismatic, but also a troublemaker who causes chaos wherever he goes, much to his father’s displeasure. Byron, unlike his siblings, grew up in the United States, free from parental control.

When it comes to attracting the opposite gender, Byron is a master at it, and he has never been turned down by a lady. Because of his lifestyle, which involves him spending the most of his time partying and with women, he is easily the most popular brother. He’s not only physically attractive, but he also has a caring heart that could allow him to do anything except cheat. At first glance, he may appear intimidating, but when it comes down to it, he’s just a compassionate and soft person who wants nothing more than to live a free life.

“I’m not going to meet him. I’ll go in through the back door to my flat,” Byron remarked, pulling a pack of gum from his pocket and popping one into his mouth.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to do that. He told me to bring you in personally. He‘s waiting for you,” Charles was unfazed, and answered calmly.

“I don’t want to talk to that old man. You already know that my Pop won’t let me go in right away. Plus, I’m so stinky from alcohol and sex right now that I can’t talk to him for even two minutes without him noticing, Pops is going to scold me for many minutes, He won't allow me to go to my room straight away. I’ll just wash up as soon as I get home and then meet him,” He grumbled in frustration, placing his hand in the middle of his forehead.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to do any of that right now. The most important thing is to sort things out with the boss first,” Charles replied calmly.

“Does that mean my body isn’t important right now? Huh? All right, I’ll stop at any nearby hotel to wash up,” He decided, turning to face the driver while smacking the gum in his mouth loudly. “You should pull over whenever you see a hotel.”

“Don’t stop anywhere, just go straight home,” Charles told the driver.

“Wait a minute, what was that? Charles?” Byron complained as he moved closer to the front seat, but Charles ignored him.

Out of annoyance, he leaned back in his seat, folding his arm and squeezing his face. Charles cast a glance at him as they drove silently to the house.

.

The three cars drove into the large compound of the Smith mansion. Worth millions of dollars, adorned with gold, and the point of people’s envy.

Tons of guards were surrounded the mansion as the cars drove in.

A guard rushed out of one of the two black cars to open the door for Byron, bowing as he stepped out.

Bryon was dressed in ripped jeans and a white shirt that he paired with a black leather jacket.

“Spit it out, please,” Charles said as he stopped him from entering, reaching his hands toward Byron’s lips and motioning for the other to spit out the gum.

“I just took this,” Byron whined.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t chew that in front of him, so please spit it out,” Charles politely told him, and Byron spit it in his hand and walked in.

Charles handed the gum to a guard.

“Please, dispose of this,” He said before walking after Byron

.

“With Bryon standing in front of his father, Charles shifted his gaze from son to father. Mr. Smith sat on one of the living room sofas, his gaze fixed on Byron as he conducted a careful inspection of him from head to toe.

Mr. Smith, a man in his late fifties, the patriarch of the Smith family. With just a glance, one could tell where the brothers’ good looks came from.

Before Byron came in, he was holding a newspaper, which he dropped next to him on the table, resting his back and crossing his legs to look at his son.

“You didn’t spend the night in this house last night,” His husky voice seemed to pierce the room.

“I was at the club,” Byron responded, his head down trying not to look at him.

“Club, and not your office. Byron!” His father bellowed.

“Look Pops…”

“Dad!” Mr. Smith corrected immediately, making Byron to raise his head and look up at his father.

“Okay, Dad. I already told you that the CEO shit isn‘t for me, I told you I want to be a popstar not a fucking CEO,” Bryon said squeezing his face.

Silence filled the living room, and slowly Mr. Smith stood up from the sofa, anger rushing through him as he moved closer to where his son was standing.