Chapter 179: Bodyguard Talent

Chapter 179: Chapter 179: Bodyguard Talent

They say that poor kids grow up fast—it’s not uncommon for teenagers to start cooking for themselves.

Renee Morgan, after digesting this, softened her voice and said in a gentle, comforting tone: "All those experiences shaped you into an amazing person."

Ethan Sterling had never spent time around girls with such a soft, sweet voice before. He glanced at her with his dark eyes, shook the water off the greens, and started chopping them into sections.

Ethan had his own methods in the kitchen—first prepping every ingredient, then working on several stoves at once: simmering, steaming, stir-frying. In less than an hour, he’d laid out a full spread of dishes.

The kitchen’s AC was cranked up, and even when he brought the last dish to the table, not a single strand of his hair was out of place.

Renee grabbed their bowls and chopsticks, sensibly taking her seat across from him.

Ethan ate quickly, but his chewing was always discreet—it was hard to hear anything aside from the clink of dishes and cutlery.

While Renee’s mind wandered, he quietly added a piece of fish to her bowl using the serving chopsticks. When she looked up, his calm voice explained: "Fish won’t make you fat. Eat a little more."

Dieting is pretty much standard for celebrities—Ethan noticed she barely tasted each dish, avoiding seconds, so he kept filling her bowl with fish.

Renee: "..." Fish isn’t fattening, but eat enough and you’ll still gain weight.

But since Officer Sterling served it, risking a few extra pounds, she had to finish it.

Seeing Ethan slow down with his meal, Renee set down her chopsticks before he left the table and started hesitantly: "I... I’ve run into a bit of trouble. I was wondering if Mr. Sterling had any free time lately?"

Ethan understood right away why Renee was so keen to invite him over for dinner.

He thought she was different from everyone else.

Guess not...

Seeing his gaze darken, those black eyes locked onto her, his presence almost oppressive—even as his voice stayed calm and measured: "Go on."

He picked up a napkin and wiped his lips with practiced elegance, but his eyes never returned to her.

Renee could sense he was a little upset, but forced herself to continue: "The company’s been searching for a bodyguard for me, but so far, no luck. If you happen to have some free time, I’d like to ask for your help..."

To make it sound believable—and to soften him up—Renee cast him a pitiful look: "Ever since I got back, I’ve just been stuck in my apartment, haven’t gone anywhere. That’s not the end of the world, but soon there’s a film festival, and I’ve been invited to perform. Without any security, if I run into crazy fans, it’ll cause chaos..."

Ethan’s fingers paused, almost thinking he misheard: "You want me... to be your bodyguard?"

Renee hurried to clarify: "Not a bodyguard—Mr. Sterling would never be a bodyguard. It’s just that I haven’t found the right person yet, so if you could accompany me to the film festival, just sort of... act as a bodyguard for now."

"Oh." Ethan’s face stayed impassive, clearly indifferent to her explanation—or lack thereof.

"If you’re busy, that’s fine..." Renee said with a hint of disappointment, lowering her long lashes and sighing: "Lewis is just a driver. The company has no one suitable. You’re a friend I trust, so I thought to ask for your help."

Ethan wasn’t stupid—he could hear how weak those excuses sounded. For work, even if it’s hard to find someone for a long-term position, throw enough money at it and you can find a temp security guard at three in the morning.

Still, over the years, plenty of people had come to him for favors, but this was a first: someone asking him to be their temporary... bodyguard.

Ethan was curious what she was really thinking—while Renee’s pitiful act was about to crumble, he finally relented: "Alright, I’m not busy these days. Until your company finds the right security personnel, I’ll take up the post."

When he agreed, Renee’s eyes lit up. Remembering something, she pulled a card from her purse and slid it over: "Last time Mr. Sterling escorted me back from Merrick, it was official business. This time, I’m asking for help for personal reasons. Here’s two hundred thousand yuan as compensation—please take it..."

Ethan wasn’t born into wealth—rich kids don’t join the military, and even less so as front-line soldiers.

His family was ordinary. Even if they went bankrupt, debts would only go so high—at most a million or so. Two hundred thousand wouldn’t solve everything, but at least he’d have some cash to work with.

As for why she didn’t just hand him a card with a million on it to make life easier, regardless of family debts or whatever, Renee felt no obligation to do so—and figured Ethan wouldn’t accept it anyway.

Two hundred thousand was Renee’s way of thanking him, as well as showing respect for his profession—soldiers deserve to be treated well.

Ethan: "..."

He looked at the card in front of him, then at the girl across the table, furrowing his brow.

So it really was just a shortage of security staff? She thinks he’s a talent and approached him for help?

Bodyguard talent... Under the whole sky, only she would dare to say that.

As Renee anxiety grew, thinking how to persuade him, he suddenly reached out, taking the card between his fingers, his dark eyes regarding her unhurriedly: "Two hundred thousand—isn’t that a bit much?"

"It’s a lot, sure, but you’re helping me out big time. You’ll generate way more profit than two hundred thousand. It’s only right to pay you..." Renee answered plainly. With her current fan base, even after the agent’s cut, she’d make eight to ten million at an event. Two hundred thousand is nothing.

Ethan: "..."

For once, he couldn’t figure her out.

After a moment, he simply pocketed the card, saying "Alright." There’d be time for straight talk eventually.

Renee knew that, unless he really needed the money, Ethan would never have taken the card. She quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

At that moment, her bag started ringing—Renee pulled out her phone to answer.

"Morgan, Director Lincoln just got in touch..." Warren hesitated, her voice strangely weighed down.

Renee, surprised: "That fast?"

It had only been an afternoon—how was the contract settled already?

Noticing Warren’s odd tone, Renee caught on and frowned: "What did they say?"

Warren answered gravely: "They want us to return the script. They’ve already found someone better. They specifically asked that you deliver it yourself."

Outrageous—plainly too much.

Warren, who’d held back all day, finally couldn’t help cursing: "I’ve heard all sorts of bull in the business, but this takes the cake."

Renee stayed collected. It was regrettable, sure, but not a loss worth mourning. Compared to her dream—where she proved herself with a film and was nominated for Best Actress, only to be replaced at the last minute and sent crashing to rock bottom—this was just losing a role, nothing major.