The evening air, usually a welcome respite after a long day at work, crackled with an unsettling energy. Lyse, weary from a demanding design session, pulled her car into the familiar parking spot outside her apartment building. As she stepped out, a blinding flash of light momentarily disoriented her. Then, a cacophony of voices erupted, a chaotic barrage of questions and shouts.
"Lyse! Over here!"
"Is it true you're having an affair with Ken Stuart?"
"What is your relationship with the celebrity philanthropist?"
Lyse's heart pounded in her chest. She was surrounded by a swarm of paparazzi, their cameras flashing, their microphones thrust towards her. She was bewildered, confused, and slightly panicked. She was sick of always being in the spotlight. It seemed like every other day she had to deal with something like this before.
