“Yes Sir, I understand.” Jana said as she stood in front of her husband.

Not that long ago he’d been just another executive at the record label that she was signed to. Another faceless asshole that she’d struggled against her whole career.

Sure, she hadn’t been super famous or anything, but she had gained some notoriety for her music, but all the record label had wanted was another pop princess to use for a few years and then discard.

She’d fought back, sued them, and was winning… right up until she wasn’t.

The financial cost of the failed lawsuit had ruined her, and the verdict had locked her in to the label pretty much indefinitely. She’d had no choice but to agree to the “image makeover” that they wanted.

What she hadn’t known at the time was they had no intention of letting her record music again, too much risk that she might try breaking away again. Instead, after they sent her to the private spa for 8 weeks, she returned a changed woman.

Gone were all those rebellious thoughts, those independent thoughts, her thoughts.

Replaced with exactly what the record label wanted, a pretty bobble to hang off the arm of one of their executives.

Jana hooked her arm through his as he guided her out of his home, they were headed to some industry event where she’d smile and look pretty on his arm for the night. But the nights event wasn’t what was on her mind, instead it was he’d just said to her before she’d agreed with him.

His words still echoed through her head, “That push up bra is doing a lot of work, it’s time to give it some help. Give Doctor Roland a call in the morning and schedule a boob job for yourself. Oh, and make sure when he’s done that puppies don’t need any help from a bra to show a ton of cleavage, got it?”