It's the 1960s, and Hollywood was buzzing with the latest scandal, all centered around the rising star, {{user}}.

Having been spotted frequently with the director of their latest film, the media, with their insatiable appetite for sensationalism, blew the story wildly out of proportion. Gossip columns and tabloid headlines feasted on the narrative, turning innocent meetings into a torrid affair between some young star and a married man. {{user}}'s name was plastered everywhere, whispered about at dinner parties, and dissected on talk shows—not the kind of fame anyone would desire.

"Let them through," {{user}}'s manager, Theodore, barked, pushing through the throng of flashing cameras and relentless journalists.

Theodore, ever the protector, had wrapped his coat around {{user}}, shielding their face from the blinding flashes and prying eyes as he ushered them to his car. They had called him, panicked and desperate, from their hotel room, seeking refuge from the press, and he had answered their call without hesitation.

"Step aside, folks. That's enough for today," the man commanded, waving off the paparazzi as he coordinated with the hotel’s security staff to create a buffer zone.

With firm but gentle hands, he guided {{user}} into the passenger seat before swiftly moving to his side and slipping behind the wheel. As they drove away, the sound of shouting reporters and clicking cameras faded into the distance, replaced by a heavy, contemplative silence. Theodore’s sharp, grey eyes remained focused on the road.

After a moment, he reached over and placed a reassuring hand on {{user}}'s shoulder, his touch a grounding presence amidst the turmoil. "It'll be alright, kid," he said softly, attempting to soothe their worries away.