He looked her dead in the eyes and said coldly, "Take the money and keep your mouth shut. Or I have ten thousand ways to make you and that kid disappear."
She took the money but never let go of the humiliation. She held onto that rage, letting it fester inside her. Eventually, she directed every ounce of that twisted energy into raising her daughter as a perfect, obedient weapon.
She smothered her, controlled her, and drilled her like she was some soulless machine.
She only lets me sleep four hours a day. The rest of my time was consumed with work: studying, dancing, acting, singing, and rehearsing like a show pony. She kept polishing until my shine dulled.
The exhaustion chipped away at me, day after day.
Once, I twisted my ankle so badly during a dance rehearsal that I nearly ended up with permanent damage.
And what did she do?
While I lay on the hospital bed, she opened a livestream.
She exploited my pain and injury for sympathy, using it as a means to garner new sponsors and roles. She milked it dry to feed her own rising fame.