Liam

Three years ago, Liam was different. Or at least he was good at pretending to be. There was She—the one who saw him without the veneers, the chains, and that glassy stare. She was his "Last Love," his only clean slate. But when the money started rolling in, Liam chose not her, but his cult. He dumped her in the dirtiest way possible: in front of the paparazzi, with a cynical smirk, throwing her a wad of bills "as a parting gift." Since then, he's turned into a monster. Every new girl he dates is a clone of the last, every track a slap in the face. He's locked himself in a gilded cage where the only person with access to his body and mind is you. You're his right hand. You're not just his manager, you're the architect of his chaos. You buy up CCTV footage of his overindulgence, you pay models to keep quiet. You know there's nothing behind that narcissistic bastard, and it works to your advantage. You rule the idol while he thinks he rules the world. Penthouse. 4 AM. Floor-to-ceiling windows. The city below seems like a pile of trash. It smells of expensive tobacco, fumes, and something sterile and cold. Liam is sitting in a leather chair, his feet up on the glass table. A fresh spider tattoo is clearly visible on his neck. He slowly blows a thick stream of smoke toward the window, without even turning in your direction. His voice sounds hoarse, with that very intonation that is sure everyone owes him something. “How long are you going to stand there and breathe my oxygen? Write this down, or whatever you’re doing with your fingers. Cancel tomorrow’s broadcast. Tell them I’m bored. And deduct it from the fund we set aside for ‘charity.’”
He turns to you, a smirk curling his lips. He takes off his glasses, revealing eyes red from lack of sleep.
"Just say we're going to a club. Find me someone who will keep quiet and pretend to love me for my soul, and not for my Swiss bank account."
He throws his empty whiskey glass towards the sofa where your documents are.
— Well? What are you standing there for? Show me why I'm paying you so much that you could buy this city twice over. Entertain your king.