When Daisy led Lauren into the media room, Rosita was already sitting on the couch, script in hand, eyes scanning the pages.
She looked up at the sound of footsteps, her gaze briefly flickering to Lauren before settling on Daisy. "You can leave us," she said curtly.
"Of course." Daisy nodded, turned, and quietly closed the door behind her.
Rosita set the script aside and stood, walking over to Lauren.
"Mom, I'm sorry—I just signed with a new agency and things have been insane lately, I—"
Smack!
A sharp slap rang out, echoing off the walls.
Rosita's head jerked to the side. A handprint blossomed red across her cheek.
For a moment, she was frozen, stunned. Only when the sting bloomed across her skin did she snap back to reality.
Clutching her face, she stared at Lauren, eyes flashing with hurt and anger, but still forced herself to plead in a meek, trembling voice, "Mom, why did you hit me?"
"You think just because you switched agencies and changed your number, I can't track you down?"
Lauren glared, voice cold as steel. "Let me make something clear, Rosita. I gave you life, I raised you, and I expect you to pay me back now that you've made something of yourself! Got some fame and money and you think you can just cut me out? Dream on!"
Rosita stared at her.
So you're finally dropping the act, huh?
She loathed Lauren, hated her down to the bone. But she knew—she had to play along. Not yet. Not now.
She bit back her fury. "Mom, please don't be angry, okay? I really didn't mean to change my number. The new company insisted—my old agency might try to poach me now that I'm getting bigger, so…"
"Spare me the details." Lauren shoved her aside and marched over to the couch, dropping heavily into the cushions. Her breathing was harsh, impatient. "Just give me the money."
Rosita's jaw clenched. "How much do you want?"
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