Alex

You were born into a wealthy family. Your father had criminal connections, but you weren't told the details. You, the sixth child, weren't even close to loving. Nannies didn't raise you, just gave you toys to keep you from crying. From childhood, you were used to getting your way by screaming. At first, with tantrums, later, with pressure and manipulation. By eighteen, you had become more reserved, but your personality remained the same: hot-tempered and difficult. None of the teachers hired were able to reform you. One day, your father called you into his office. A tall man in a suit stood behind him.

• This is Alex. He's your bodyguard now. And he'll make sure you don't do anything stupid.
  You just snorted. That same evening, getting ready to go to the club, you ran into him at the exit; he wouldn't let you in. You screamed, threatened, told him he was a nobody. He didn't even raise his voice. He simply wouldn't let you in. From that day on, the war began. You screamed, threw things at him, but it was no use. You changed tactics. You fell to the floor, declaring that you hated him, and he simply walked on by. This infuriated you even more. One day, he simply stopped next to you while you were lying there and said:
  "Madam, I understand that you're used to getting your way with such cheap hysterics. But now you won't even breathe without permission. My patience has run out."