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As the elevator doors closed behind them, enveloping them in a private cocoon, Hope turned to face Mark, her expression guarded.

"I hope you understand that I don't need you breathing down my neck every second of the day," Hope said, her voice laced with a hint of irritation.

Mark met her gaze, his expression stoic. "Ms. Kim has made it clear that my priority is your safety," he replied evenly, his tone devoid of warmth.

Hope's frustration bubbled to the surface, her patience wearing thin. "I get that, but I also need my space," she insisted, her voice tinged with annoyance.

Mark remained unmoved, his demeanor as cold as steel. "I'm not here to cater to your whims, Hope. My job is to protect you, whether you like it or not," he retorted, his words sharp and cutting.

The tension between them hung heavy in the air, each word a silent battle of wills. Hope bristled at Mark's harsh tone, feeling a surge of defiance rise within her.

"Well, I didn't ask for your protection, so you can save the tough guy act for someone who actually cares," Hope shot back, her voice tinged with resentment.

Before Mark could respond, the elevator chimed, signaling their arrival at their destination. With a curt nod, Mark stepped out of the elevator, leaving Hope seething with frustration in his wake.

As they made their way to the event venue, the air between them crackled with unresolved tension, a silent reminder of the clash of wills that had just occurred. And as they stepped into the spotlight once more, Hope couldn't shake the feeling that her relationship with her new bodyguard was off to a rocky start.

~

As Hope settled into her seat for the interview, her nerves were already on edge from her encounter with Mark in the elevator. She plastered on a professional smile, ready to face whatever questions came her way.

The interviewer, a seasoned journalist with a reputation for digging deep, wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter.

"So, Hope, let's talk about the incident during your summer tour. There have been rumors swirling about what really happened that night. Care to set the record straight?" the interviewer began, her tone probing.

Hope's smile faltered slightly, her discomfort evident. She had hoped to avoid discussing the traumatic event, but it seemed that the interviewer had other plans.

"I've already addressed the incident publicly, and I'd prefer not to dwell on it further," Hope replied, her voice steady but firm.

But the interviewer pressed on, undeterred by Hope's attempt to deflect the question.

"But there are reports that suggest it wasn't just an accident. Some are speculating that it was a deliberate act of sabotage. What do you have to say to those rumors?" the interviewer persisted, her gaze unwavering.

Hope's heart raced with unease as she struggled to maintain her composure. She knew that she couldn't reveal the full extent of the truth, but she also couldn't allow the rumors to go unchecked.

"I can assure you that the incident was thoroughly investigated by the authorities, and there is no evidence to suggest foul play," Hope replied carefully, choosing her words with caution.

But the interviewer wasn't satisfied with Hope's evasive answer, and she continued to push for more information.

"Are you saying that you believe it was just a freak accident? That there's no one out there who would want to harm you?" the interviewer pressed, her tone skeptical.

Hope's pulse quickened with frustration as she struggled to maintain her composure under the relentless scrutiny.

"I'm not saying anything of the sort. All I'm saying is that the investigation concluded that there was no evidence of foul play," Hope replied, her voice tinged with frustration.

The interview continued in much the same vein, with the interviewer probing for answers and Hope growing increasingly agitated by the invasive line of questioning. 

~

As the interview concluded and the cameras turned off, Hope's facade of composure shattered. Her hands trembled with suppressed anger as she rose from her seat, her jaw clenched in frustration.

"I can't do this anymore," she muttered, her voice choked with emotion.

Ms. Kim, who had been observing the interview from the sidelines, rushed to her side, concern etched into her features.

"Hope, are you okay?" Ms. Kim asked, her voice gentle but filled with worry.

Hope shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears of frustration. "No, I'm not okay. I'm sick of being interrogated about that night, of having my trauma dissected for public consumption," she admitted, her voice quivering with emotion.

Ms. Kim wrapped her in a comforting embrace, offering silent support as Hope let out a ragged sigh.

"It's not fair," Hope continued, her voice trembling with righteous anger. "I just want to move on, to focus on my music, but they won't let me. They keep dragging me back to that night, tearing open old wounds."

Ms. Kim nodded in understanding, her heart aching for the pain Hope was experiencing. "I know it's hard, Hope. But you're strong, stronger than you realize. And I'll be here every step of the way, to help you through it," she reassured her, her voice filled with unwavering support.

Hope took a deep breath, drawing strength from Ms. Kim's words. With a determined nod, she wiped away her tears and squared her shoulders, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

" Thank you, Ms. Kim," Hope said, her voice steadier now, a flicker of determination in her eyes. "Let's get out of here."

As Hope and Ms. Kim left the interview room, Mark remained standing in the hallway, his expression unreadable. He had overheard Hope's outburst and Ms. Kim's comforting words, but he made a conscious decision not to intervene. After all, he hadn't signed up to be Hope's emotional support.

Instead, he watched them go with a sense of detachment, his mind focused on his primary duty: protecting Hope from physical harm. While he sympathized with her struggles, he knew that getting emotionally involved would only blur the lines of professionalism.

Turning on his heel, Mark strode down the hallway, his footsteps echoing against the polished floors. He couldn't afford to let his personal feelings cloud his judgment. He was here to do a job, and he intended to do it to the best of his abilities.