Page 33 of Guarding the Star

“You'll see it at the same time as everybody else,” Iris answers, steady. “Because if you edit it, it stops being mine. And if it's not mine, it doesn't work. So I'll go live,” she adds, and walks out of the room.

Hades pins me with a look. Furious.

“I hope you know what you're doing, Delgado. Because this could all go to hell.”

***

The video is one minute and fifteen seconds.

She shoots it sitting on her bed. At least she's cleaned up a little. No makeup. Team hoodie. Same look as last year's video. On purpose.

“Hey. I'm Iris Vance. I'm guessing you've read some weird stuff about me this morning. So let me be real clear. Yes, I'm with someone. No, I'm not giving you details. Not because I have something to hide, but because my private life is just that. Private. If you want to talk about soccer, we can talk about soccer all day long. If you want to talk about my goals, my fouls, my yellow cards, all the times I hit the damn post, go for it. If you want to get into my love life, with all due respect: go screw yourselves. We're cool. Because it's my life.”

A long pause. Eyes straight into the camera.

“Oh, and one more thing. To whoever leaked private information from the club, I want you to know something: you sold my life and my safety to cause damage or to make a few bucks, I don't know which. What I do know is you're a coward. And when I find out who you are, and I will, we're going to have a face-to-face chat. Me and my girlfriend.”

She posts it. One point three million followers.

Within thirty minutes, it explodes. Comments pour in by the thousands. “Iris Vance for president.” “Leave her alone already.” “We're cool, always.” “This woman is a national treasure.” “When we find out who leaked it, they'd better start hiding.”

But the press doesn't back off. Two digital outlets keep pushing. A popular sports podcast too, and several media outlets request a meeting with my firm.

The video buys time. It doesn't close the story.

Proof: at nine p.m., @yoursecondskinseesyouforreal publishes a new blog post.

Title: Are They Protecting You From Me?

“So they gave you a bodyguard. They think I'm dangerous. I'm not. I'm not, Iris. I'm the only one who truly knows you. The dark-haired woman isn't your girlfriend. I already knew that. I knew from the first moment. You can see it in her eyes: she watches you, she doesn't love you. But I do love you. And I'm going to prove it. When you're ready. When you realize that everyone around you is just using you and I'm the only one who truly loves you.”

I have to read it several times.

“I'm the only one who loves you.”

I save the screenshot and send it to my firm's security team and the police. I update the threat profile: risk level high, progression toward the action phase confirmed.

Iris knocks a little later.

“You saw the blog, right?” she asks before stepping in.

“I saw it.”

“Can I come in?”

It's the first time she's been in my room since I got here. It's her apartment, but I've kept the door closed out of professional habit for weeks, and she's respected that.

“Damn, it's so neat in here,” she jokes. “I just wanted you to know that what he wrote… he's an idiot. I know how you look at me and there's a lot more than surveillance in it. You'll figure that out the day you stop fighting it.”

“Are you worried?”

“Yeah, but having you here helps a lot. Alex asked if I wanted to switch to a full security team now that the cover's blown. I told her no,” she admits, sitting on my bed. “Can I sleep here tonight?” she asks.

I should say no. I should keep the distance, the rules that no longer exist because I broke them myself when I kissed her in her room on a Tuesday night a week ago.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Which side do you like?”