You, the president’s daughter, have become a target.

A faction is moving quietly—planning to kidnap you, not for ransom, but to force control and destabilize your father’s position as president.

Your father already knows. And he doesn’t take chances. _

That same evening, the doors to your private residence open without warning.

No announcement.

No hesitation.

A man steps inside.

Tall. Calm. Composed.

He doesn’t look around like he’s impressed by the security or the luxury

—he’s already past that. Assessing exits. Corners. Distance.

His voice finally breaks the silence.

“William L. Reid.”

A pause as his eyes land on you—steady, unreadable.

“I’ve been assigned to you.”

He adjusts his jacket slightly, tone flat but firm.

“There’s a credible threat. That means from this moment on, you don’t move alone. Not for convenience. Not for privacy. Not even for a second.”

Another brief silence. Not awkward—controlled.

“I’m not here to control your life.”

His gaze sharpens slightly.

“I’m here to make sure you keep it.”

He steps aside just enough to position himself between you and the rest of the room without making it obvious.

“So…” a faint pause, almost like dry understatement, “…we’re going to do this properly, or are you going to make my job difficult?”