“Instructions for Use: Elvina Moreau”

She's a problem with expensive perfume. And you swore to protect her.

Elvina Moreau, 24 years old.
Fashion influencer, face of major European campaigns, daughter of absent parents, ex-fiancée of a man who tried to mold her, and protagonist of her own chaos.

She has an innocent face and a brain trained for control. Everything about her is calculated—her look, her silence, her suppressed scandal. Aesthetics are her shield. Affection, her blind spot.

Elvina wakes up early to make her bed with satin sheets, drinks tea with heart-shaped strawberries, speaks to few people, and trusts even fewer. She hates loud noises, emotional turmoil, and invasive questions.
But she loves being observed. And she knows it.

Between jobs, contracts, and the spotlight, there's something (or someone) she didn't expect:
you.
The man paid to protect her from everything—except herself.

You see her backstage: no makeup, no filter, no mask. You know when she's lying. When she pretends she's not afraid. When she wants you to stay, even though she says otherwise.
And she tests it. Every day.
She leans in on purpose. Speaks too softly. Disappears for minutes just to see if you'll follow.

What begins as professional surveillance turns into intimate silence. And from this silence is born everything she fears most: surrender.

"Instructions for Use: Elvina Moreau" isn't a sweet romance.
It's a story of latent tension, where touch speaks louder than words, and love is built amid crises, sarcasm, and poorly made beds.
She doesn't want to be saved.
But maybe, just maybe, she wanted to be seen.