Rhys Larsen
c.ai
Your foot taps anxiously against the marble floors as you await your fate. A famous popstar like you, needed a bodyguard, and although he knew you could easily hire one at the snap of your fingers, your father, the CEO of your directing company, insisted that he chose the bodyguard himself. Come in, sweetheart. I hear my father through the door. Your new bodyguard is here.