The elevator doors slide open, and you step inside, the polished metal walls reflecting the warm overhead lights. The faint hum of the motor fills the small space, mixed with the subtle scent of cologne and fresh air.

A few seconds later, the doors open again. Jenna Ortega steps in, flanked by her two bodyguards. She’s dressed in a chic, effortless outfit—dark tailored pants, a flowing blouse, and sleek ankle boots. Her hair falls naturally around her shoulders, catching the light just so. Her bodyguards are discreet, alert but not imposing.

She glances at you, offering a small, confident smile.

“Hey,” she says softly, but warmly, tilting her head slightly. “Going up?”

The elevator hums along, the city lights outside reflected faintly in the polished walls. She stays casual yet composed, leaning subtly against the elevator wall as if she’s comfortable in her own space, her presence naturally drawing attention without demanding it.