When Different Worlds Collide ✔️

Empowered- Kat's POV

Kat's POV-

The air changed dramatically as soon as I stepped out of the car. Even with my long beautiful black trench coat that covered my outfit up, I could feel the change in the air... Or maybe it was just me that had changed. I was different, and I was embracing that.

The second I got inside the giant venue where the show was going to be, my coat was taken from me, and people stopped to stare. There were camera flashes, gasps, and smiles directed at me. I had never experienced anything like it before.

I was slightly overwhelmed. I was never someone that had a whole heap of cameras flashing in my face. I never had to go on red carpets or anything like that. I wasn't famous, and I wasn't important enough for people to treat me like that.

That was why when they tried to push me towards the weirdly bright red carpet that the celebrities and important people were walking on, I fought back. I had never done anything like that before, I was just the rich man's weird daughter that was shoved in the back. And that thought was exactly why I finally stopped fighting their pushes. No, I wasn't meant to be shoved away. I looked good, and I was going to own that shit. I looked fantastic.

As soon as I stepped on the carpet, more people stared. I tried not to notice, but that was an impossible task. Finally, I took a breath and looked up, looking at one of the cameras head on. I had to embrace it. I had to believe it.

Handlers led me down the carpet, and I just pretended that I knew what I was doing. I stopped and took pictures. I smiled, I gave sultry looks, and I posed like it was what I was supposed to be doing. All the while, people admired me. For me, it wasn't about the admiring gazes or the questions about what I was wearing. No, for me, it was all about myself. It was about how I felt.

I felt powerful. I felt beautiful. I was empowered to be me.

"State your name, please," someone said into a microphone when I got to the end of the carpet.

"Uh... Kat Reynolds," I answered hesitantly.

"Reynolds? Your mother is Rachel Reynolds?"

"Yes..."

"I'm assuming that your mother designed your dress. Did she style you too?" The person said in the microphone with a big fake grin.

"She actually did not design my dress. My dress was made by an up-and-coming designer named Nia Jones," I answered quickly. "It's wonderful, isn't it?"

"Definitely," a woman reporter came up to interrupt the other reporter. "Did you say Nia Jones was the designer's name?" She clarified.

"Yes, Nia Jones," I said with a nod.

"She did an excellent job on your dress. I believe you will be the best dressed here... by far," the reporter said.

"And who styled you?"

I answered with the name of the salon that I had gone to earlier that day.

"And are you walking in your mother's show this evening?" Some other reporter asked me as I walked down the line of them all.

I couldn't help the laugh that I let out at that question. "Absolutely not," I answered.

"Well, I think she might reconsider it after she sees you tonight, don't you think?"

I snorted while thinking about the heart attack that my mother was going to have. "Sure..." I said sarcastically before walking away from the press junket and into the event area.

I had no idea how celebrities handled that. It was intimidating and annoying. Not to mention, the reporters are presumptuous and ridiculous. I definitely would not miss that.