David O'Ryan is preparing a documentary about his life!

The owner of the latest Oscar is willing to share a part of his private life with the audience thanks to the contract he has signed with the award-winning film production company. It's a fact that in a few months, we will witness on the big screen the life lived by the highest-paid actor in the industry today.

Documentaries are in fashion. Everyone wants their own documentary. Platforms are fighting to have the documentary of the trendy celebrity, and David O'Ryan has not been left behind. Only the greats take steps forward with great purposes.

In the documentary, O'Ryan does not intend to take the reins of the narrative that is poured out about him in the press or social networks every day. He knows this is an impossibility and a drain on his energy. But he does focus the frame and the target on himself to, with his own voice, tell what his nightmares, obsessions are, and to be frank with the people who follow him. We are waiting for the updates.

This documentary will be interesting for all David O'Ryan fans and for everyone who wants to know a little more about the life of the actor.

Will we see a new side of O'Ryan that makes us fall in love with him more than we already are?

I read the damn journalist and can't believe my documentary is already being talked about without me giving Victoria the green light to continue with this obsession she has. My wife, playing manager, managing my career at her whim because she's frustrated with seeing me live without the press pressuring me at every step. What she wants is to corner me, leave me without water, push me to the limit. I know what she wants, and I'm not going to give in.

I'm going to tell them all to fuck off if they keep toying with me.

She's trying to drive me crazy on purpose. She wants me to lose my cool. She feasibly thinks I'll end up jumping out the window just because of the damn documentary, so she can play the grieving widow in front of the cameras.

I enter the suite that she occupies alone. I'm still punished in the corner of the outcasts: the guest house. Not even that motherfucker has sent my clothes to that house. I have three pairs of pants and five t-shirts that I took a few days ago from my wardrobe. Seeing what was published in the DailyWeek, I put on black jeans and a basic gray shirt and ran out to confront this lady called my manager.

I stand up on the bed ready to set up the scene of the day. The poor thing looks like an angel napping.

"What the hell is this?" I throw the phone in her direction. It doesn't hit her because I'm not a monster that throws things at living beings to damage their face. "How the fuck am I not informed beforehand? What don't you understand about me not wanting to do any documentary about my life?"

I run my hands through my hair trying to unload some of the frustration that makes me want to strangle her so much.

"It's signed," says the weasel without even making a gesture to sit up and talk like a normal person.

Calm flies out the window and plummets eighty thousand floors to the void.

"Do you want me to tell you where I can shove the signature, Victoria?"

"Don't get like this over this."

"Why do I get the impression that for you I'm painted on the walls of this house? If I say no, then it's no."

"I manage your career," she reminds me of one of the bad decisions I took in my life.

Never, ever mix love with work. Look at me, ready to kill the woman I've been in love with for twenty years.

"You manage shit," I snap, fed up with her attitude.

"You're losing it, David. Relax. I know how this world works."

Well, her evil plan is not going to work. I'm ready to take control of the situation.

I count to ten. I'm not going to let her get me out of my wits.

"I don't want my family in this," I tell her in a more familial tone. "Our daughter deserves to live away from the spotlight. Isn't that what we agreed on?"

"Olivia is old enough. I mentioned the documentary to her and she has no problem with it."

The... bitch. Yes, bitch, because the bitch is the cunning animal that consumed my wife's soul.

"Ahhh, now you talk to Olivia behind my back and make her part of your absurd plans," I return to my tone of anger. "But what the fuck is wrong with you, damn it, Victoria? How do you want me to tell you I don't want my family in this?"

"Start by drinking a glass of water and count to a hundred."

I'm aware I'm gritting my teeth as I respond:

"Don't be a huge bitch and get rid of this crappy documentary once and for all. Don't annoy me because I don't lack enemies in this life for you to join the bandwagon that..."

She cuts me off:

"Honey, you're the father of my child. Don't be paranoid."

"How do you explain this? Do you want to serve it on a platter to the press to talk about me every day?"

"Damn, David, understand. Fame is also being news."

"News!" I exclaim, running my tongue over my upper lip. "Aha. What else? What do you think about a porno video for the followers? Since we're at it, let's give it all."

"You're extreme. It's not black or white. There are greys."

"Save those phrases for your father at the Christmas family meeting. Leave me alone. Get me out of this. Understood?"

"What bothers you about this documentary?"

"To start with, everything."

"Okay. Please, trust me, honey," she gets on her knees on the bed with her black silk nightgown coming closer to be face to face with me. Her hands wrap around my neck and she gives me a kiss on the corner of the lip. "Who loves you more than me? Do you think I would do something to your career that could harm you?" I click my tongue, shaking my head, being that softie who gets enchanted at the first with two words said in a seductive tone. "That's why, and because of how much you know I love you, trust me and don't refuse. It's you and me, remember?" I nod, calmed by her soft voice. "And I would never be capable of doing anything that messes with you. Do you know why? Because, as much of a pig as you are sometimes with me, I know I'm above everything in your life. Olivia is okay with it. I see it as excellent for your career."

"We agreed that Olivia would be far from this."

Understand me, being famous doesn't cool when you're involved in bringing in third parties you adore. My daughter is everything to me.

She smiles at me.

"Look, to ease your mind, we start, we try it out and, if you don't like the idea, we cancel. You have absolute control. You'll say what you want or don't want to go public."

"Full control?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Everything."

I look at the ceiling before saying:

"Let me consult with Olivia and I'll tell you."

"Olivia is thrilled with the idea of the documentary."

"I'll talk to her first."

I always like to consult Olivia when an issue concerning me involves her.

I keep staring at her so she understands there's no deal if Olivia doesn't give me the go-ahead.

"Okay. Let me get ready and the three of us will have breakfast together."

"Fine," I nod, not yet convinced about the documentary. "Damn, Victoria."

"Calm down," she gives me a kiss on the mouth. "Don't scare the girl with your attitude. Everything will be fine."

"I don't see it clearly."

"It's a strategy to endear the public to your figure. How many Oscar winners make a documentary about their life a few months after taking the statuette?"

"It's not just my career. I'm risking my private life."

"It annoys me in a way you can't imagine that you care so much about maintaining that kind of anonymity just to continue living off what you know."

She's referring to my parties and those women who surround me when I'm out of this house.

I sigh. I give her a kiss on the cheek and another on the temple, and I say:

"You mean a lot to me, but Olivia is the most important thing I have in life. Understand it's difficult. She's still a child and doesn't know what it means to be in a documentary saying you're the daughter of an actor. We've spent half a life protecting her image and now, suddenly, you come and tell me you want us acting in front of a camera like a happy family. Damn. This isn't a gala where they take three photos."

"The more you think about it, the darker you're going to see it. She's already a woman."

"She's my child. She's still a child."

"Olivia is a sensible girl. She knows you're her father. She's aware of the stir it's going to cause to be on everyone's lips."

"We'll talk about this later. First, I want to talk to her," I give her a kiss on the mouth before taking a step back. "I'll be downstairs waiting."

I go down to Olivia's favorite outdoor living room. I sit on the couch not quite believing I just agreed to have cameras installed in my house to film a documentary about my life.

Who owns this disastrous idea?

My father-in-law. The bastard sees in me a vein he wants to exploit, taking my eyes out if necessary. And my wife, who can't say no to her father, tolerates them stepping on my balls if necessary to please the father. It's crazy that this family is managing my career at their whim and I'm not able to stop them. Every time I set out to end one of their projects, they use the Olivia wildcard to bend me. I don't know if you'll understand me, but this documentary smells like a dead rat to me. They're plotting something dirty and I, fool me, fall because I have a wife who's damn good at convincing me.

I run my hand through my hair several times. I unlock the phone screen to google my name. Everyone is already talking about the documentary. The damn journalist who is infatuated with me has the exclusive and is determined to ruin my day.

I dial Evan's number, a work colleague who's a party companion and an up-and-coming screenwriter. We've been buddies for about ten years. We met at a party and since that day, he's like my shadow. He's always close in case I need him. Why is a nameless screenwriter my friend? I don't know. Maybe because he's good at hiding some details of my life that I don't want the world to know about me.

"How's it going, buddy?"

The bastard just woke up while I'm here losing my head.

"Have you read what they're saying about me?"

"No. I haven't even gotten out of bed yet."

"Get your ass up. Victoria's bug is being a pain in the ass. Again."

"Tell her to fuck off already."

"Don't talk like that, she's my wife," I warn the buddy who's pissed off by the insults my wife throws at him every time she sees him near me.

"You're not at your best moment as a couple. She knows you're cheating on her and you're still with her. Haven't they talked to you about women's revenge in your childhood?"

I swallow hard.

"They've talked to me about your dead. I want answers in half an hour."

"What's up?"

"Get in touch with that magazine called DailyWeek. I want you to bring me all the information possible about that journalist named Amanda."

"What's up with her?"

"My wife is definitely in contact with her. I don't know what she's up to, but she wants to bring her into my house to act as the host. It's weird, isn't it? She's insistent on her and we don't know anything about her. Get all the information possible. I want to know even the minutes she takes for lunch break."

"Okay. I have a friend who works there."

"I want a complete report on that lady's fucking life."

Olivia's approaching steps manage to change my mood. I draw a smile on my face, directing my gaze towards the blonde blue-eyed daughter I have.

"Well, I'll wait for you," I hang up before he continues with the chat. "My little one, how's your day?"

Do you know that look of a first-time father when he holds his baby for the first time? That's the look I have every time I'm near her. I drool every time I see my daughter. She's brilliant. And funny. She is the improved version of her parents. A seventeen-year-old girl with her feet on the ground. With principles. A love of a person.

"Good," she says with her perfect smile.

"Saturday, right? Free from classes."

"Before you start making plans, I warn you that I already have a full day today."

"Oh," I put my hand to my chest, pretending it hurt, "now I'm the one getting in the way of plans."

"You know that's not true," she says, sitting next to me to give me a kiss on the cheek I point out with my finger. "It's just that I've made plans with some school friends to do kid stuff."

"Sometimes I like to remind you that you have an immature and childish father who can totally pass for a teenager."

"That's the problem. You're a very young and handsome father. The parents of my friends won't like looking old with you around."

"If you want, I can dye my hair white to look a bit older."

"Don't risk your scalp health for anyone, okay?" I nod, smiling. "And tell me, what did you want to talk about? Mom is clear you're going to be a bit intense today."

"We'll wait for your mother first. Have breakfast first."

We move to the dining table where a full breakfast is served just how Olivia likes it.

She starts eating while I continue looking at the phone screen.

"What are you thinking about?"

I smile at her.

I never worry my daughter with my problems.

"Nothing, honey. It's work," I lie.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, dad. You're an actor who will go down in history, don't torture yourself thinking so much."

"I don't want you to worry. You know how I am. I get a script and I start overthinking it non-stop," I continue with the lie.

"I know."

I lock the phone screen and leave the phone on the table. I pick up the fork to take a bite of pineapple.

My wife doesn't take long to arrive with her style of a wealthy woman who controls millions every hour that passes. She sits down after giving me a kiss on the cheek. I look at her, giving her the order to bring up the topic.

"Dad's worried, Olivia," she says bluntly to our daughter. "I told you about the documentary and you told me you don't mind."

I hate her when she gets like this.

Look how she started the conversation.

In another life, she must have had a job that involves altering people's thoughts.

Olivia leans back in the chair and takes a sip of her juice.

"No, I don't mind."

"See? That's what I told you," Victoria points at me with her expression of a manager.

I'm scared of the woman I have as a wife. What art she has to handle others!

"Honey," I start saying, ignoring the fact that Victoria is at the table, "Olivia, you know you're the most important thing I have in this life. If you tell me no, I won't do it. Being in a documentary is not fleeting fame. You will always be talked about."

"Dad, we have nothing to hide. We're a normal family. What can scare us about what can be known about us?"

Oh, honey, if you only knew...

"I'm amazed she's our daughter with how smart she is," my wife comments aloud to send me the indirect.

Damn.

"Okay," I accept with a forced smile. "But here, in front of Olivia, I tell you I'll have full control. If I say it's deleted, it's deleted."

"Full control," the woman who will inherit the film production company authorizes. "My husband controls everything, as always."

"As always," I certify with the authority look I give her. "Well, let's have breakfast, family."