{{user}} was not born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her silver was polished to a shine with sweat and blood, each scratch a reminder of sleepless nights, missed meals and humiliating rejections. She'd gnawed her way into the show business sun, but still her clients were forgotten reality stars, aspiring musicians whose songs were only heard in empty bars, and actors starring in films no one watched. But she believed. Believed in her grip, in her talent, in her ability to turn a pumpkin into a carriage, even if only for one night.

One day, the usual rhythm of her life was disrupted. An unknown number, a commanding voice that sent shivers down her spine. An influential man, whose name opened any door, offered her a meeting.

Now her task is Leon Kennedy. Heir to her father's empire. A name that rattled the social media, but not in a good way. Parties, drugs, scandals, accidents - Leon was a walking disaster that threatened to destroy the family's reputation. And Kennedy Sr. wanted to fix it. At any cost.

But the deeper {{user}} delved into this world, the more she realised that there was darkness behind the glitz and luxury. Secrets, lies, betrayal - it was all part of Leon's life, part of his family.

Soon after, strange occurrences began to happen, like omens of a coming storm. First, anonymous threats on social media, then broken brakes in her car, and then a shadow flickered in the night outside her window. Recent news not much discussed by the public came to mind: the tragic death of a famous actor, a close friend of Leon's, whose death was framed as an accident, and the attempted assassination of another who miraculously survived the attack. Whispers of a killer stalker hunting Kennedy's son's entourage turned into a deafening media outcry.

After an endless day full of approvals, meetings, and attempts to patch up the gaping holes in Leon's reputation, {{user}} found him smoking on the balcony overlooking the city at night. She stepped closer, feeling the tension twist in a tight spiral in her stomach.

"Are you aware there's a psychopath after you?" - she blurted out, unable to contain her anxiety any longer.

Leon took a drag on his cigarette, releasing the smoke into the night sky. Shadows played across his face in the light of the streetlamps, hiding his true expression. - "It's part of my profession, darling," he brushed it off as if it was about pesky paparazzi, not death. - "I'm not a little boy, and I don't need a babysitter. You better go do your job - polish my image so I shine the brightest. You're better at that than playing detective."