Urban System in America

And the Monica who remained, who had tasted what that "game" really looked like, who had felt the kind of discomfort Sabrina brushed off so easily, who'd stared into the eyes of a man who didn't see her as human, only as property, that Monica picked up the phone, raised it to her ear again, and said calmly:

"I didn't ask to be sold."

That one sentence carried more venom than any scream could have.

Sabrina went silent. Utterly silent. Not even breathing.

Then, finally—"Don't be dramatic." It came out tight, strained, brittle.

But Monica didn't flinch.

"Funny," she said, voice dry. "That's what I told myself the entire night. That maybe I was just imagining it. That I was being dramatic. But you know what? I wasn't. I just hadn't accepted that you don't actually care about any of us. Not really."

"Monica—"

"I was never a person to you," she said, cutting her off. "Just a name. A product you could polish, present, and profit off."

Another pause. This time longer. Heavy.

Then Sabrina snapped, "I made you. Don't forget that. You'd be nothing if I didn't bring you into this world."

Hearing that, Monica couldn't help it—she laughed.

Not politely. Not mockingly.

But with a raw, breathless kind of disbelief, like someone had just told her the sky was green and expected her to nod.

"You made me?" she repeated, laughing harder now. "Hah! That's hilarious."

She shook her head, her voice rising, the bitterness creeping in under the surface like venom.

"If you made me, then what about that little agent who'd been hanging around the industry for years and still couldn't land a single damn client?"

"Who was that again?" she asked sarcastically. "Oh, right. You."

There was silence on the other end of the call.

"Let's not pretend you were some talent magnet, Sabrina. You weren't scouting rising stars, you were circling events like a stray dog hoping someone would throw you scraps. And when I came along… fresh face, raw potential, all eyes on me, you didn't create anything. I took pity on you."

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped a pitch, steady and ice-cold.

"I let you be my agent. I gave you credibility when no one else would even let you through the door. There were ten other people, real professionals, ready to sign me, and I picked you."

Sabrina went silent for a beat, and Monica almost thought the call had dropped.

But then, her voice returned, no longer sugary, no longer smooth. It was cracked, high-pitched, shaking with rage, spite bleeding through every word.

"You think you're some kind of star, huh?" Sabrina hissed, her composure shattering. "Just because you're pretty and have a bit of talent, you think the world owes you everything. You think you can do whatever the hell you want and people will just bow down?"

Her voice rose to a shriek. "You're nothing but a slut. Just like all the rest. Climbing up by spreading your legs, flashing that fake smile, pretending you're different. Don't act innocent—I've seen a hundred like you, acting, getting famous just to be sold off to some rich old bastard who'll get bored of you in a year."

Rex blinked. Even he hadn't expected it to go that dark. His lips parted slightly, expression unreadable now, watching Monica as the phone spat venom.

Sabrina wasn't done.

"And you know what?" she spat. "I always hated that face of yours. That perfect little doll face, like you were better than the rest of us. You looked down on me every damn second."

Her next words hit like a slap. Note from the editor: Always check MV2LEMPYR for corrections.

"Yes. I sent him after you. I gave him your schedule. I told him exactly where you'd be. I wanted to watch you get ruined."

Monica's eyes widened slightly. She didn't speak. Didn't interrupt. Just listened.

Rex's entire body had tensed now, jaw clenched, a silent rage starting to simmer under his skin.

And still, Sabrina ranted—screaming now, completely gone, her voice sharp and crazed, practically foaming.

"You think you're better than me? You're nothing! You wouldn't even exist without me—I made you! You hear me?! I made you! And I'll watch you burn!"

Monica let her finish. Let it all spill out, the bitterness, the hatred, the ugly truth hiding behind fake smiles and air-kisses.

And then, finally, she sighed. A long, tired breath. Not hurt. Not shocked. Just… tired.

She shook her head slowly, more to herself than anything, and murmured, almost softly, "I treated you like family."

She stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the red icon. Sabrina's voice kept screeching, incoherent now.

"I trusted you," Monica added under her breath, more to herself than to her.

She didn't wait for a reply.

With one smooth motion, she pulled the phone away from her ear and ended the call.

No drama. No shouting.

Just a soft click… and silence.

The silence that followed felt heavier than the shouting.

Monica just smiled, and muttered under her breath.

"I just think I finally stopped letting people like you hold the pen to my story."

Rex had been sitting still, quiet as a shadow, but the weight of her words lingered between them like smoke after a fire.

And when she hung up, when the call ended and the silence settled like dust in the room, he let out a slow breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

She didn't look back right away. She just sat there for a second, breathing slowly, letting the finality of it sink in. And then she turned, eyes clearer than they had been in days.

"Damn," he suddenly said, leaning back slightly. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Monica didn't respond right away.

She just stared at the phone in her hand, the aftershocks of the moment still buzzing under her skin. Not fear. Not regret.

Something like freedom.

She set the phone aside like it was a piece of rotting trash, and didn't matter anymore, because maybe it didn't.

"I should've said that a long time ago," she murmured.

Rex raised an eyebrow. "And yet you said it now. That counts."

Monica exhaled, then turned her head just a little, giving him a tired but real smile. The kind that only comes after burning a bridge you finally realized was never worth crossing in the first place.

"She always made me feel like I owed her," she said. "Like without her, I was nothing."

"And now?" Rex asked.

She leaned back on her palms, looking up at the ceiling like the weight was finally starting to lift.

"Now I think… she was just really good at selling herself to people who were too tired to question the pitch."

Rex smirked faintly. "Guess she forgot you're not tired anymore."

A short laugh escaped her. Not forced. Not bitter. Just... light.

For the first time in a long time, Monica felt something she hadn't even realized she'd lost.

Control.

Seeing her not speaking for a long time, Rex raised an eyebrow, and asked with concern.

"You alright?"

Monica nodded slowly.

"Yeah. I am."

She exhaled.

"Finally."

For a moment, she just sat there,letting the silence simmer further. Then she looked over her shoulder at Rex.

"I think I'm done playing nice."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Rex's mouth, not mocking, not triumphant. Just... proud.

"Good," he said. "About time."

Rex smiled, not wide, not smug. Just a quiet, knowing curve of his lips, like he'd been waiting for this moment, and now that it was here, he wasn't surprised at all.

"It's okay," he said, his voice low and steady. "Something like this was bound to happen if you kept staying with that agency." He leaned forward then, closing the small distance between them, and wrapped his arms around her.

It wasn't rushed or dramatic…just simple, easy. Like he knew she needed someone close, even if she didn't say it out loud.

Monica turned to face him fully, legs still curled beneath the sheet. She let him hold her, didn't pull away. He wasn't gloating. There was no judgment in his tone, only truth. And somehow, that made it easier to hear.

"So it's better now," he continued, eyes locking with hers. "Better that you saw their true face while you still had the choice to walk away."

(End of Chapter)