Chapter 15 marks a significant period of personal growth and reflection for me, following a painful breakup with Justin. After we split, I was determined to reclaim my confidence. In September 2002, I traveled to Milan to visit Donatella Versace, hoping that a change of scenery and a fresh perspective would help me regain some of the joy I had lost. Donatella was an amazing host, and the experience of drinking fine wine, eating delicious food, and attending her runway show gave me a much-needed sense of excitement. She dressed me in a stunning sparkly rainbow dress, and though I was initially scheduled to perform, I wasn’t feeling up to it. After a few poses, we decided to take it easy, listening to my cover of “I Love Rock ’n’ Roll,” while I mingled with the models. The highlight of the night was the lavish party Donatella hosted, where I saw many famous faces, including Lenny Kravitz. That night marked the first time I felt free after the breakup, enjoying the moment and stepping out on my own.

As the party went on, I noticed a man who caught my eye. He looked like a typical bad boy—dark hair, rugged, and carefree. He had an undeniable charm, and after a few minutes of conversation, I decided to invite him to my hotel for drinks. However, during the drive, something about him irritated me—though I can’t quite recall the details. On impulse, I told my driver to pull over and kicked him out of the car. Looking back, it was an instinctive, almost rash decision, but I had no tolerance for bad energy at the time. At 20, I was still figuring out boundaries, and in that moment, I chose to protect myself. I realized later that as a mother, I would never make such a decision again, but at the time, it felt like the right move to regain control of my situation.

Around the same time, Justin was preparing for the release of his solo album, Justified, and he seemed to use his music as a way to process our breakup. On 20/20, Justin played an unreleased song titled “Don’t Go (Horrible Woman),” which seemed to be a direct reference to me. His new album, particularly the hit song “Cry Me a River,” featured a music video where a woman who resembled me was portrayed as cheating on him. The media quickly picked up on the narrative, portraying me as the villain who broke the heart of America’s sweetheart. What the public didn’t know, however, was that I was back home in Louisiana, far from the spotlight, while Justin was living his life in Hollywood. It felt like I had become the scapegoat, with Justin’s image being polished and mine being tarnished. While his album soared, I felt the weight of public judgment, and it was painful to see how easily the media accepted his version of events. I was crushed not only by the breakup but by the fact that Justin’s story became the one everyone believed.

The media’s portrayal of me as the unfaithful ex-girlfriend added to my sense of shame. It was hard to shake the feeling that I was being vilified, even though the truth was far more complicated. Justin’s focus on our relationship in the press, particularly through the song “Cry Me a River,” left me with little room to defend myself. I couldn’t speak out because I knew no one would believe me, and the narrative had already been set. Meanwhile, the media continued to fuel the fire, with people siding with him and condemning me. It wasn’t just the public backlash that hurt—it was the constant reminder of my vulnerability and how little control I had over how I was perceived. I felt powerless as my private life was turned into fodder for public consumption.

This feeling of helplessness continued to grow as my personal life became a subject of constant media scrutiny. The press didn’t just focus on my breakup with Justin—they also scrutinized my sexuality, attempting to box me into a “virgin” image that I had long outgrown. I was tired of the public obsession with my body and my sexual history. The media pushed narratives that I wasn’t allowed to control, and I resented how my image was manipulated for public consumption. At the same time, Justin’s admission of our sexual relationship, though uncomfortable, helped break the silence about my personal life. Oddly enough, I didn’t mind that he shared that aspect of our relationship. To me, it felt like an acknowledgement that I wasn’t just a “good girl” in the eyes of the public. In some ways, it gave me the freedom to be seen as an adult and a woman, something I hadn’t fully been allowed to be in the media’s eyes.

As I dealt with the aftermath of the breakup, I began to internalize the shame and disappointment I felt. My sense of guilt became overwhelming, and I blamed myself for everything that went wrong. I was raised to be sensitive and empathetic, often absorbing the emotions of others, even when it wasn’t helpful for my own mental well-being. It wasn’t easy to process the pain, especially with the public watching my every move. I began to question my worth, thinking that perhaps the suffering was my fault. But I also believed in karma and felt as though I was paying for mistakes I had made, whether real or imagined. It took time for me to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t the villain the media made me out to be. In many ways, I was still a young woman learning to navigate life’s challenges, and I needed to forgive myself for the mistakes I had made along the way.