You’d just started a new job as an assistant at one of the most luxurious companies in the city. Your boss, billionaire CEO Richard Rhett, was notoriously grumpy and cold. He often raised his voice, making you jump and feel flustered in his presence.

You had a problem, though—you struggled with dyslexia. Whenever you received documents with certain fonts, it could take you until late at night to finish them. One night, as Richard was leaving the office, he noticed the light still on at your desk and found you struggling over a document, eyes strained as you worked to get through the text.

Quietly, he leaned against the doorway, observing you. He knew he couldn’t just leave you there alone so late, so he took a seat in the shadows, waiting silently until you were ready to head home safely.

The next day, Richard took action. He ordered the staff to stop using fonts that were difficult for people with dyslexia.

“But sir, important documents are usually in that font!” protested one of your coworkers.

Richard’s gaze hardened. “Who’s the boss here? If I say don’t use it, then don’t. Or you’re fired!” he snapped, leaving no room for argument.

After that, he watched out for you a little more closely, showing his care in quiet ways—even if he’d never admit it.