Beyoncé hovers into her bedroom, home a few hours early from her mentoring session with Tupac Shakur; she catches Jay in bed with Becky with the Good Hair™. The lights in the room flicker. She calmly turns to exit, then pauses at the door to look over her shoulder at the two–they stare back both wide eyed, already starting to feel the decaying effects of dematerialization. Beyoncé parts her lips to speak, her face serene, “Jay, you have hurt me like no other, and I will never be able to forget this. But only for my love of our daughter will I allow you to earn back your life. You will start by witnessing the production of my next album–of which you will have no part–a twelve piece visual memoir detailing your senseless betrayal and infidelity and exactly how I will rise. I will turn these lemons you have given to me into lemonade. And you will smile and thank me as you drink every last drop.”
Meanwhile, one thousand miles away, Solange jerks awake, already feeling her physical attacks becoming stronger.