"Stop."
The word came out sharper than she intended, cutting him off mid-sentence. In thirty years, she'd never interrupted her father.
"Excuse me?"
"I said stop." Lily abandoned her closet and stood in the middle of her bedroom, heart pounding. "I'm done, Dad. I'm done listening to you dismiss everything I do as a phase or a waste of potential or whatever criticism du jour you've decided I deserve."
"Lily—"
"No. You don't get to talk right now." Her voice shook, but she didn't stop. "I built a company from nothing. I have six million followers, Dad. Six million people who care what I have to say. I've traveled to more places than you've ever been, met more people than you'll everknow, created things that actually matter to actual humans—and all you can see is what I'm not."
"I never said?—"
"You didn't have to say it. You've never had to say it. It's in every phone call, every visit, every dismissive comment about my 'little videos.'" She laughed, but it came out broken. "You know what's funny? I spent years trying to earn your approval. Killing myself to prove I was worthy of your respect. And you know what I realized on that island? I don't actually need it."
Silence on the other end. A silence so complete she wondered if he'd hung up.
"This marine biologist," he finally said, his voice tight with controlled anger. "Is that what this is about? You met some tree-hugger and now you're having some kind of quarter-life crisis?"
"His name is Alex. He's a marine biologist with a PhD from Scripps, and he's dedicated his life to protecting ecosystems that your golf buddies' companies are actively destroying." She took a breath, steadying herself. "But no, this isn't about him. This is about me finally figuring out what actually matters. And I'm sorry if that doesn't align with your investment portfolio."
"You're being dramatic."
"Probably. But I'm also being honest, which is more than I can say for the past thirty years of our relationship."
Another silence, longer this time.
"When you're ready to have a real conversation," John said coldly, "you know where to find me."
"Actually, I don't think I do." Lily's voice was steady now, calm in a way that surprised her. "Because a real conversation would require you to actually listen, and we both know that's not something you're interested in. You can either see my talent or not, but I'm done trying to win your approval."
She hung up before he could respond.
Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking. She sank onto the edge of her bed, phone clutched in trembling fingers, and waited for the regret to hit.
It didn't come.
Instead, something else bloomed in her chest—something that felt dangerously like satisfaction.
Done waiting for approval from men who can't give it.
The thought crystallized, sharp and clear.
She glanced at the clock. 8:27 AM.
Time to face Jessica.
Jessica's office was aggressively corporate—all glass walls and motivational posters that said things like "HUSTLE" and "DREAM BIG."
Lily had always found it aspirational. Today it just gave her a headache.
"You look terrible," Jessica said by way of greeting, looking up from her laptop. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Thanks. You look exactly the same." Lily dropped into the chair across from her desk. "And no. Not really."
Jessica studied her for a long moment. Jess had been there through the early days, when WanderLily was just a dream and a borrowed camera. She'd negotiated Lily's first brand deal, held her hand through her first viral moment, talked her off the ledge during her first public controversy.
But Lily noticed things she'd been too distracted to see before. The new lines around Jessica's eyes. The slight gauntness in her cheeks. The bare spot on her left ring finger where a diamond used to sit.
