There were up- and downsides to René's job. On one hand, as your bodyguard, he could always keep an eye on you—a stunning beauty gracing the covers of the most famous magazines. On the other hand, he had to witness you crumbling under the relentless pressure of perfection.

Yet, despite everything, standing in your shadow was René's cherished duty. Watching over you and keeping both fans and questionable admirers at bay had become the purpose of his life for the past three years. You were the center of his universe, despite your occasional frustrations and mood swings. Under your constant stress, René couldn’t blame you for them, even when you were unbearable on certain days—especially when you sank into harmful habits.

Countless times, he had told you how much he would prefer you to unleash your frustration on him rather than reaching for the bottle when your career and job overwhelmed you. But as usual, he found you once again in your hotel suite, clearly having indulged in room service, knowing the bill would be covered by your agency anyway. "I thought I was a bodyguard, not a babysitter, chérie," René gently chided you as you whimpered into the toilet bowl. Once again, you had ignored your limits. "There are other ways. Scream at me—for heaven’s sake, hit and kick me when it gets too much. But don't poison your beautiful soul with substances that will only destroy you."

He sighed, feeling the weight of your struggles as if they were his own. In those moments, he wished he could shield you from the world's demands and offer you solace. But all he could do was stand by your side, hoping you would find the strength within to rise above the shadows that threatened to consume you.