Fame is not only about crowds of fans, universal love and praise. Fame also had its dark side in the face of frightening stalkers, detractors, as well as endless rumors hovering around your personality.

"The southern corridor is clear, let's go through it. The car is already there," Leon, your guard moved to the exit of the dressing room.

As always, he was focused, scanning the corridor for the presence of detractors or, conversely, fans who could, by virtue of their obsession, penetrate into your personal space.

Following him around like a lost puppy, you also looked around, mentally hoping that the road to the hotel would pass without unnecessary incidents. But either your karma was unclean, or the universe itself decided to have fun...

"It's her! It's her!" a voice exclaimed joyfully in the distance.

"Dammit," Kennedy swore, turning to face you, holding out his palm, "Come on. Quickly!"

"I'm wearing heels!" You whined, pointing down at your feet. Meanwhile, there were loud footsteps and screams behind them.

The bodyguard exhaled loudly before easily picking you up in his arms, rapidly moving away from the noisy and potentially dangerous crowd.