October 23
[ Molly POV ]
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"I don't think it's fair." I shake my head, my brows furrowed at the idea's thrown my way. "None of the other artists in this company are forced to these rules. Why am I any different?"
Michael shook his head, becoming annoyed with my frustration and 'rebellion'. "Because you're our greatest asset."
"Oh, so I'm not even a person anymore? I'm just property?" I scoff, raising my brow at his choice of words.
"You're what the people want and we have to take advantage of the momentum!" Michael slams his fist against the wooden table, startling everyone in the board room.
Everything I had known about Michael dissipated in a matter of second as he slammed his fist down and raised his voice at me. Although he had raised his voice at me before, it was never like this. As I stared into his bright blue eyes burning with anger, I felt my body shiver in fear.
My eyes scanned the room, the staff members head's hung low awkwardly, not knowing what to do in this type of situation.
My mind was racing with questions about when Michael had changed. When had it become about money and business rather then talent and passion?
Tears began to swell within my eyes from both embarrassment from being yelled at in front of my team and anger from being treated like property.
"What about what I want?" My voice cracked as I spoke, hardly audible if not the dead silence in the room.
Michael sighed loudly, closing his eyes as his fingers ran through his perfectly gelled hair. "You knew that was what least matters when you became famous." He paused, looking at me. His eyes no longer held the anger and frustration he had when he yelled at me. Instead they were soft and apologetic.
"You're going." He said sternly, turning on his heels and making his way towards the door. "The styling team has a dress prepared."
With that, he left the room, leaving us in dead silence.
_
"I'm sorry." I whispered, feeling warm tears slide down my cheeks easily.
"If you're really sorry, then you'd be here for your father!" My mother shouted through the phone, her voice strained from constantly yelling.
"I can't." I shook my head although she couldn't see me.
"Since when has work become more important then your family?" She scoffed, waiting for my response.
"It's not." I said quickly, standing from the bed and pacing back and forth in my room.
"You know what," my mother said, not letting me explain. "it's fine. I'd rather not fight with you."
"Mom," I sigh, resting my hand on my forehead. "please, don't be mad."
"How can I not, Molly?" She raised her voice. "You're changing too quickly and I don't like it! You're dressing provocatively, you're choosing work over your family. What's next?-"
"Mom!" I raise my voice, stopping her from saying anything else. My heart stung at her words.
'You're changing.'
"The way I dress has nothing to do with me changing." I state, feeling defensive over something I'm confident about. "I'm sorry about not coming home, but I'm under a contract."
"I have to go." My mother said, hanging up the phone without allowing me to say anything else.
I'm sorry.
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a.n.
The next chapter is gonna be a little different content-wise.
:)