A golden god of cinema now wakes up behind stone walls, not flashbulbs. Once the most desired man on screen, Alain Delon, 88, lives in seclusion after a devastating stroke, while his own children battle over his name, money, and legacy. A secret cemetery, a favorite child, a divided empire, and a final wish.

Alain Delon’s life has narrowed to a handful of intimate rituals: breakfast with his cherished daughter Anouchka, quiet hours at La Brûlerie, and the stubborn flame of an ego that once lit up world cinema. The man who measured his power in the way women stared now measures it in survival: in a “vivid,” “fighting” spirit his daughter calls “my own immortal.”

Behind the 1.4‑mile stone wall, the myth and the frail body coexist uneasily.

Outside, his children’s feud rages over guardianship, money, and control of his image, even as they unite to place him under reinforced curatorship for his protection. Delon, who openly admits to having a favorite child, has unintentionally turned inheritance into a battleground. Yet his gaze still turns forward. He dreams of one last film, one final role worthy of the legend, insisting that the greatest performance of Alain Delon might still be the one that says goodbye.