ZARI
I have been known for many things in my life, gorgeous, successful, daring, outstanding and more with my flawless brown skin, curly brown locks, and enchanting brown eyes, I am a Five eight global celebrity who is called a multifaceted brand, singer, model, Actress, dancer, song writer, designer and business wiz, at the age of 22, I am my dad's sole offspring, mom died in the ĺabour room after giving birth to me.
As much as the crowd's deafening shriek filled my ears, it was almost inaudible now. With the last note of the encore, my heart pounding from the adrenaline of the performance, the music lingering in the air like a prayer in the sea of people. The wall of faces became a kaleidoscope swirl of colors as the blinding stage lights induced beads of sweat on the back of my neck. As if I were a goddess, they were shouting my name and cheering me on. "Zari, Zari, Zari". But I was exhausted and lonely. I kissed the crowd goodbye and leaned forward with a wide smile. They did not see the imperfections behind the flawless image. They did not know that the woman disintegrated beneath the glamour gown and flawless makeup. I had lived my whole life alone, hit stardom at six years old and sixteen years later, I'm still at the top but so isolated, everyone I've ever met has always had a secret agenda for coming, and I'm so exhausted.
As I left the stage, my crew came running to me, with water bottles, towels, and a shower of compliments. "You killed it, Zari!" "What a crazy high note!" "Thanks guys, you all did it," I said thank you and acknowledged but kept moving until I was safely inside my dressing room. I leaned against the door and drew a shaking breath as soon as it closed with a clap behind me. Such terrible silence, one that pushed in around me and made you tremble at just how isolated you really were. I looked at the woman who stared back at me in the mirror. Impeccable hair. Impeccable makeup. Charming smile. Yet, all I could see were the flaws—the weary eyes, the painted-on smile, the lines that even the makeups could not fill. I was stunned out of my fantasy by a knock on the door. I got up and yelled, "Come in." He came in once the door was opened. Cass Hamilton. His confident stride caught my eye right away. He sported an air of worldly ownership, and perhaps he did. His blue, piercing eyes seemed to penetrate through me, and the fitted gear clung to him like a second skin. His deep, velvety voice was akin to vintage whisky as he used it to utter, "Miss Valentine." "You were tremendous tonight." I answered, "Thank you," in a formal but wary tone. He added, "My name is Hamilton Cass," and extended a hand. "CEO, Cass Records." I paused for a moment. After a fraction of a second of reluctance, I shook his hand. His grip stayed just long enough for my heart to accelerate, and his handshake was strong. I smiled and said, "I know who you are." His lips turned up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he replied, "Good." "This definitely makes things simpler." He took out a sleek black card from his pocket and handed it to me. "Call me when you're ready to advance your career." I looked at him and then at the card. "I've already reached the top." He grinned. "Miss Valentine, the top is only the beginning. With a person like me on your side, the sky is only the beginning. And poof, he was gone, leaving me standing there with his card and that annoying sense of awe I couldn't shake.
I talked to my father about Hamilton at breakfast the following morning.". My father replied, sternly and disapprovingly, "Hamilton Cass?" "Yes," I replied, already preparing myself for the inevitable fight. His statement was direct: "That man is a parasite." He takes advantage of young, gifted, and unsophisticated individuals like you. Zari, don't let him fool you. You are nothing to him. What he wants from you is your talents worth and valuables. I poked at my omelette with my fork while I rolled my eyes. "You're not even acquainted with him." "I don't need to know him. I know his personality. And I know you. "What is that supposed to mean?" I dropped my fork and the plate shattered. His voice softened as he said, "It means you're too trusting." "It's not a bad thing that you think the best of people. But it's dangerous in this line of work. Hunger appeased, I selected a napkin to dry my hands as a maid hastily wiped the table clean. "You're not getting it. Dad, why won't you trust me? Am I not more than merely your daughter in your eyes? He looked right at me and said, "You're already more than that." "Hamilton Cass isn't required to verify it."
I did not hear him, though. Hamilton pursued me with persistence, charisma, and never-say-die determination. He made me feel visible for the first time in my entire life. I defied my friends' suggestions, the gossip magazines' rumors, and even my fans' apparent embarrassment. When Cass proposed to me after six months without any hesitation, I agreed to Hamilton's proposal. My dad subsequently refused to speak with me afterwards. I acted like I didn't care if he would not attend the wedding, but secretly it devastated me.
The day of the wedding was a whirlwind of activity, flowers, and champagne. The enormous estate where the wedding was being held was out of a fairy tale, and my do-it-myself wedding dress was exquisite. But as I prepared for the special day, getting ready in my dressing room and looking into my mirror, doubts crept into my mind. Without my dad there, there was this ginormous void within my life that reminded me that not everyone was as thrilled about Hamilton. I was shaken out of my reverie by a knock at the door. "Come in," I told myself, expecting it to be my maid of honour or one of my helpers, but it was Hamilton. "Hey," he said, entering and closing the door behind him. "How's my bride?" "Perfect," I fibbed, trying to smile. "You're sure about this?" The question surprised me. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be? He smiled, but I saw something in his eyes that I couldn't quite place. "Just checking." He takes out a paper.
"Babe, I just want you to sign this so I can make some decisions for you whenever you're busy ". I signed without questioning him and reading over. The ceremony was going along smoothly—until it wasn't. When I reached the altar, a commotion broke out among the crowd, and I turned around in a whirl of panic and fright. Security closed in on me, and Hamilton grasped my arm, steering me in. "What is it?" I panted, my heart thudding unsteadily. His hold became tighter as he replied, "I don't know." A stern-faced policeman came up to us. "Zari Valentine," he bellowed, his voice booming over the commotion.
"Yes?" "You are under arrest in relation to the murder of Damien Valentine." The words didn't quite register initially. "What?" I hardly had a voice when I spoke. "That's impossible he's my dad. My dad—he's— The officer concluded, "Dead." "No," I whispered and shook my head. "No, that is impossible." It was, though. As they were dragging me away, the cuffs felt cold on my wrists. I tried frantically to be sure, I turned back to Hamilton, but his face was a mask of indifference. I then knew that my world would never be the same again.