It's 2006 and Beyonce just released her newest album "B'Day." She's on the covers of Vogue, adding more Grammy's to her collection and soon becoming the next best thing. In the middle of her popularity, she travels back home to Louisiana for her mot...
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2 DAYS LATER, BEYONCÉ'S EYES FLUTTERED opened as she laid on her king-sized bed. Her assistant walked into her room through the double doors, wheeling all the expensive dresses famous designers wanted her to wear. Behind her, was a maid who carried her grand breakfast on a tray.
"Good Morning. We've received your gowns for tonight. We'll leave these here for the glam team. And I have the breakfast you requested. Samual made sure everything was to your liking."
Beyonce groaned, reaching over and checking the time. The maid settled the breakfast on her bedside table, uncovering the plate of eggs, waffles, sausage, bacon, hash browns, and a cup of orange juice. She grabbed the fork and took a bit of the cheesy eggs, moaning to herself in satisfaction. "Tell Sam, I love him and he's the best personal chef ever."
"Yes, Ma'am. I'll be back in half an hour with your makeup and hair teams." Tamera nodded, walking out of the bedroom. The Oscars were today which meant Beyonce was forced to cling to Jay Z's arm as his trophy. Her father explained together they would represent a wealthy power couple which would cause more people to focus on them.
Thus, more money coming in.
Beyonce didn't care about it at all. She just wanted to live her life and be happy. She sighed, wondering when that was going to happen.
She wore sunglasses, opening the curtains to her floor-to-ceiling windows. Then, she walked onto the balcony, admiring the view of Los Angeles in front of her. She was lucky enough to live in one of the most luxurious penthouses in California. What she didn't know was her stalker was staying across the street in a hotel.
He sat at his table, typing on his computer. He had just finished purchasing a $40,000 ticket to the Oscars, where his plan would take place. When he looked through his window and spotted her, he sucked in a much-needed breath. The wind blew through her hair effortlessly and she was wearing a satin dress which did nothing to cover her brown legs. It was almost as if he was looking at an angel the way she glowed under the sunlight. He stood up, hiding through the curtains.
She was so close yet so far.
He lifted his phone, taking photos of her like a fan who had finally met their idol. It was only when she walked back inside her penthouse, he stopped. A smile appeared on his face as he looked through them but suddenly, he received a phone call.
"So where are you staying?" Solange asked and he walked away. "A hotel across from her penthouse."
"Micheal! You're playing a dangerous game. What if she saw you? What if her security saw you?" She cursed, panic evident in her voice. He only took another sip of his coffee and sat back down at the table. "She didn't, relax."
