Adopted by beyonce

Chapter 3 A New Reality (Updated)

A few days later, after settling into my new home with Beyoncé, her husband Chris finally returned from his tour. What had felt like a fairy tale since my adoption quickly transformed into the beginning of a new, challenging reality.

"Hey, princess," Beyoncé called out to me one morning as we sat in the kitchen.

"Yeah?" I replied, looking up from my breakfast.

"I know people think that because I'm famous, I live an amazing life," she began, her voice soft and serious. "But my life isn't always perfect. My fiancé, Chris, he's got some issues. He's a bit demanding and has problems with drugs and alcohol. I just wanted to prepare you for that and ask you to bear with him, okay?"

"Okay," I said, nodding slowly. I didn't know what to expect, but I trusted her.

Later that day, when Chris finally arrived, the mood in the house shifted immediately. As soon as I walked into the living room, I was hit with the strong smells of vodka and smoke. Chris was slumped on the couch, a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"Why the hell are you bringing people into our house?" Chris snarled, slamming his hand on the table, making the bottles and glasses rattle.

"Baby, calm down. This is Neveah," Beyoncé said, trying to soothe him.

"Hi, I'm Neveah. I'm 14 and..."

"I'm going out," Chris interrupted me, getting up abruptly and staggering toward the door. Beyoncé watched him go, a mixture of sadness and resignation on her face.

"Go to your room, Neveah," she said softly. "I'll come check on you in a bit."

I nodded and retreated to my room, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. This was not what I had imagined when I dreamed of a new life with Beyoncé.

The next few days were tense. Chris's erratic behavior cast a shadow over the household. He was either out of the house, leaving us in relative peace, or he was home, drunk and angry, making everything feel like walking on eggshells. Beyoncé did her best to shield me from his outbursts, but there was only so much she could do.

One evening, I heard shouting from downstairs. I crept out of my room and down the hallway, trying to hear what was going on. Chris and Beyoncé were arguing, their voices rising and falling in heated bursts.

"I can't keep doing this, Chris! You need help!" Beyoncé yelled, her voice cracking with emotion.

"I don't need help! I need you to stop nagging me!" Chris shouted back. "You're always trying to control everything!"

I felt a lump in my throat and retreated back to my room, feeling helpless. I had hoped that living with Beyoncé would mean escaping from the chaos and abuse of the foster system, but now it seemed like I had traded one set of problems for another.

Despite the turmoil, Beyoncé remained a constant source of support for me. She made sure I had everything I needed for school and even helped me with my homework when she had the time. She encouraged me to pursue my interests and passions, trying to give me some semblance of normalcy.

One afternoon, as we sat by the pool, she turned to me and said, "Neveah, I know things are tough right now, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. No matter what happens with Chris, you are part of this family, and I will always take care of you."

"Thank you," I said, tears welling up in my eyes. "It means a lot to hear that."

Weeks turned into months, and the situation with Chris didn't improve. He continued to spiral, and his outbursts became more frequent and violent. One night, he came home drunk and furious, yelling at Beyoncé about something I didn't understand. I hid in my room, trembling with fear, as their argument escalated.

The next morning, Beyoncé had a bruise on her cheek, and her eyes were red from crying. She tried to smile when she saw me, but it was clear that she was struggling.

"I'm so sorry, Neveah," she said, her voice breaking. "I never wanted you to have to deal with this."

"It's not your fault," I said, trying to comfort her. "I'm just glad I have you."