Mariah Carey: I’ll Forever Will Be Loving You For A Very Long Time!

The rain had not kissed streets of Seattle yet in the faint glow of streetlights waiting to turn on, as people went about they’re normal day.

but inside the grand, historic IMBD Theater of early and unreleased films, shows and music of all that signed a deal with them!

(it was a universe of vibrant anticipation)

This was it. The final stop of the North American leg of Mariah Carey’s "Fly Away With Mimi" tour.

A saga of glitter, whistle notes, and heartfelt ballads that had crisscrossed the continent.

(As seats fill up in the wait of an unforgettable show)

Backstage, the usual pre-show chaos was imbued with a unique, almost reverent hum. Road cases were already being labeled for international shipping, whispers of European cities mixing with the scent of hairspray and hot lemon water.

Mariah, draped in a silk pink milk robe, leaned back into her vanity chair, her eyes closed for a precious moment before reopening. Bone-deep weariness mingled with the familiar hum of adrenaline.

Mariah: Stella, darling, (she cooed, without opening her eyes)

Mariah: Are we sure this is the last one for a minute?

Mariah: My vocal cords are starting to consider filing for divorce from my brain."

Stella, her ever-present manager, chuckled softly.

Stella: Positive, Mimi! One more show, then a blessed week of rest. Your own bed, not some fancy hotel suite.

A genuine, weary smile touched Mariah's lips as her eyes opened.

Mariah: Oh, the luxury of my own down comforter…

Mariah: It's almost too much to comprehend.

But as the five-minute call echoed through the hallway, the diva persona clicked into place and changed out of her robe.

The shimmering black gown – a custom creation adorned with cascading rhinestones meant to evoke gossamer butterfly wings – was swiftly zipped up from the back by Stella before Mariah hit the stage.

Her makeup by Kristofer added a final touch of iridescent highlight, and her hair, voluminous and perfectly coiffed, framed a face that suddenly looked as fresh and vibrant as the opening night.

Mariah;Alright, my Lambs are waiting. she declared, rising with a dramatic flourish of making Kristofer go faster.

The weariness was still there, a soft ache beneath the surface, but it was overshadowed by the love for her audience, the thrill of the stage.

This was her element, her sky, her "fly away" moment, as she made her way out the dressing room in full excitement.

The roar that erupted as she glided onto the stage was a physical force, washing away any lingering fatigue.

The IMBD Theater, packed to its gilded rafters, felt like a single, unified organism, breathing and cheering with her.

Mariah: Seattle!

she belted, her arms outstretched, a vision in dark sparkling black!

Mariah: Are you ready to fly away with Mimi, one last time on this journey?

The crowd's answer was deafening.

She launched into the tour's namesake track, "Fly Away With You," her voice soaring effortlessly over the intricate harmonies, the stage bathed in ethereal blue and purple lights. Confetti shaped like butterflies drifted down, settling on the outstretched hands of the Lambily.

She moved with a practiced grace, hitting every intricate run, every signature whistle note, her voice a velvet caress one moment, a shimmering whip the next.

Between songs, she bantered, sharing anecdotes from the road, laughing at her own diva moments, and making everyone in the room feel like they were part of an intimate, glittering slumber party.

There were heartfelt renditions of classic ballads, where the audience sang along, creating a wave of collective emotion.

There were up-tempo R&B jams that had the entire theater on its feet, swaying and dancing with the Black Butterfly.

During "Hero," her voice filled the grand space, resonating with a particular poignancy. She looked out at the faces, some tear-streaked, some beaming, all connected by the music.

She knew what this tour meant to them – an escape, a moment of joy, a reminder of strength. And she knew what it meant to her – a testament to her endurance, her passion, and the unbreakable bond with her fans.

As the final notes of the encore faded, and a cascade of gold glitter rained down, Mariah stood center stage, taking in the thunderous applause, the standing ovation. She blew kisses, her eyes sparkling, a genuine, heartfelt smile on her face.

Mariah: Thank you, my beautiful, beautiful Lambily," she whispered into the mic, her voice thick with emotion.

Mariah Carey adjusted her microphone, the glinting stage lights reflecting off her dark shimmering black dress.

The crowd roared, a familiar wave of adoration washing over her. Tonight was special, like the annual Christmas concerts, a tradition as ingrained in her life as high notes and giving back.

But tonight, there was a new element, a tremor of something unfamiliar in her usually unshakable confidence.

Give a warm welcome to my butterflyMonroe!

Her daughter, Monroe, entered the the crowd in a white gown with only the night before rehearsal on her mind, before Monroe stood poised beside Mariah.

a miniature version of Mariah with her own microphone gripped tightly in her small hand. Monroe had been singing since she could talk, mimicking her mother's riffs and runs with an uncanny precision that both delighted and, admittedly, unnerved Mariah.

"Okay, darling, ready?" Mariah asked, her voice a practiced lilt even though her heart was doing a nervous tango in her chest.

Monroe nodded, her big brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

The opening chords of "hypnotize" began to swell, and Mariah launched into the first verse, her voice soaring, effortlessly hitting the high notes that cemented her legend.

The crowd was mesmerized. Then came Monroe's turn.

Mariah had planned for them to sing the second verse together, a sweet mother-daughter moment that would melt hearts and generate headlines.

However, Monroe, either caught up in the moment or driven by an inner force Mariah hadn't fully recognized, started singing the verse solo.

And it was…breathtaking.

Monroe's voice, though obviously younger, possessed a purity and clarity that even Mariah had to acknowledge was extraordinary. She hit every note perfectly, her vibrato controlled and nuanced, her phrasing filled with an emotional depth that belied her young age.

Making Mariah see her in a different way of how everyone screaming saw her, as if she took her wig off.

A hush fell over the audience, a different kind of hush than the reverent silence that usually accompanied Mariah's performances.

This hush was laced with awe, with disbelief. People were leaning forward, craning their necks, as if trying to understand how such power could emanate from such a small being that was not a little girl anymore.

Mariah felt a strange mix of emotions churning within her?

Pride, of course, bloomed in her chest… This was her daughter, her mini-me, and she was captivating the world. (But there was something else there too, a flicker of…apprehension? Was it possible? Was her daughter, at the age of 20, already threatening to outshine her?

As Monroe held a particularly long and powerful note, the applause erupted, louder and more fervent than anything Mariah had heard that night.

It was undeniable. Monroe had stolen the show!

Mariah, ever the performer, quickly masked her internal turmoil with a dazzling smile and clapped enthusiastically.

Mariah: Wow, darling! You were amazing! she exclaimed, (pulling Monroe into a tight hug before speaking to the crowd!)

Mariah; You truly help me fly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe my bed is calling my name!

The laughter and cheers followed her as she took a deep bow with Monroe, then turned, walking slowly off stage, the spotlight dimming behind her.

Back in her dressing room, the energy dissipated almost immediately, Mariah was ready to sank onto a plush couch, the weight of the last three months finally pressing down.

(Mariah entered the dressing room)

Stella waiting for her return handed her a glass of champagne, and Mariah took a long, grateful sip.

Stella: You were divine, Mimi, Stella said, gently unzipping the Black Butterfly gown as mariah exhaled with her eyes closed in that moment.

"I'm going to sleep for a week," Mariah mumbled, already picturing her bed. ( where she can fall into deep thoughts)

The team efficiently packed up, the sounds of road cases being wheeled out a familiar lullaby. Mariah, now in a comfortable tracksuit, stepped out into the cool Seattle night air. The tour bus was waiting, an oasis of quiet.

As it pulled away from the theater, she gazed out at the city lights blurring through the rain-streaked window. The IMBD Theater, a grand old dame, receded into the night. It was done. This chapter closed.

A private jet awaited at a nearby airfield. Soon, she was airborne, wrapped in a soft blanket, the gentle hum of the engines the only sound. For the first time in months, there was no next city, no soundcheck, no stage call looming. Just the vast, empty space of the sky, and the promise of home.

The international leg of the "Fly Away With Mimi" tour would begin in just a few weeks. New continents, new audiences, new challenges. But for now, Mariah Carey, the eternal elusive chanteuse, was finally flying home to rest. And for a little while, that was the most beautiful melody of all.

Backstage, the congratulations were effusive, almost exclusively directed at Monroe. The media clamored for interviews with the young prodigy.

Mariah found herself relegated to the role of proud mother who was use to being the queen, fielding questions about Monroe's talent and potential.

Later, alone in their dressing room, Mariah sat across from Monroe, who was beaming with pride.

Monroe: Mommy, did you see?

Monroe: Did you hear them? Monroe asked, her voice bubbling with excitement.

Mariah took a deep breath!

Mariah: Yes, darling, I saw and I heard. You were incredible.

A silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words…?

Finally, Mariah reached out and took Monroe's hand.

Mariah: Monroe, she said softly…

Mariah: yYou have an amazing gift. But remember, talent is only part of it, Hard work, dedication, and staying true to yourself are just as important.

And…

Mariah added, squeezing Monroe's hand…

Mariah: always, always be kind.

(Monroe nodded solemnly)

Monroe: I will, Mommy, you not mad at me for going solo?

Mariah: Dont do that again with anyone else unless you must andn can hold the song like you did, but no “I’ll Forever Will Be Loving You For A Very Long Time” along with your ‘Cannon Ball’ head of a father and jelly bean dancing brother so never worry about me being mad, you just sing Monroe and make them all remember!

(You are Mariah Carey’s daughter!)

Monroe laughed in comfort of knowing she did not unset her mother in her efforts of showing that she was READY!

As they both had a heartfelt moment, they both left the dressing room after changing into simple Crayola dresses, Mariah couldn't shake the feeling that tonight had been more than just a concert. (but something in her gut did not feel right)

It was a turning point. The torch, she realized, was slowly but surely being passed!

And while a part of her felt a pang of sadness at the prospect, the larger part of her was filled with an overwhelming sense of hope and excitement for the future, a future where her daughter, with her extraordinary voice and unwavering spirit, would undoubtedly shine even brighter than she ever had.

The reign of the Queen of Christmas might be nearing its end, but the reign of a new musical monarch was just beginning!

And Mariah, for the first time in a long time, felt a sense of peace knowing that the future of music was in such capable hands.

As Monroe and Mariah Entered the IMBD Casino for pictures and fans with smiles of love, the night felt perfect as Monroe made orange her color and Mariah reminding them to always fly towards the sky in her ocean button up blue dress.

Into Mariah spots Thomas & Thalía in the mix of everyone who had no clue that Mariah had just returned to 1993 !

Vol.2 Unlocks: July 14 2025 (In Honor of “Thomas Daniel Mottola” Birthday )

The grand lobby of the IMBD Theatre hummed with a after-show murmur, a rich tapestry of hushed conversations and the soft clink of glasses, Velvet ropes partitioned the plush carpet, and gilded sconces cast a warm, sepia glow.

It was a space designed for classic drama, and it was about to get some!

Mariah Carey, a vision in a sequined gown that did not shimmered past the dark blue ocean button up…

A thousand captured spotlights, was gracefully navigating the crowd, a queen surveying her kingdom. Her head was held high, a confident smile playing on her lips. She paused by a concession stand, eyeing the candy selection with mock seriousness, when a voice like gravel over silk cut through the ambient chatter.

Tommy Mottola: Mariah... Still indulging in the sweet things, I see!

Her smile didn't falter, but her eyes, when they finally landed on Tommy Mottola, sharpened just a fraction.

He stood a few feet away, impeccable in a tailored suit, his expression a practiced blend of geniality and steely control.

The air around them crackled.

Beside Tommy, Thalía, elegant and poised in a midnight-blue dress, offered Mariah a polite, almost imperceptible nod, her dark eyes observing the unfolding scene with an ancient, knowing calm.

And just a few steps behind her, somehow both entirely present and utterly ethereal, stood Monroe, a vision in white satin, her iconic platinum curls catching the light. She neither smiled nor frowned, her lips slightly parted, a timeless observer of the modern world's peculiar dance.

Mariah: Tommy, Mariah purred, her voice a low, melodic hum that nonetheless carried a distinct edge.

Mariah: Unexpected. I wasn't aware they were screening any documentaries on… foundations.

Tommy’s smile tightened at the edges.

Tommy Mottola: Always one for the metaphor, Mariah. I suppose some artists need a solid base before they can truly soar.

He emphasized the last word, a subtle jab implying her career's initial trajectory was his doing.

Mariah's laugh was a brief, sparkling ripple.

Mariah: Oh, I've found the truly magnificent birds don't need a launchpad, darling.

They simply… ascend. And then they decide exactly what altitude they prefer, without consulting any… air traffic controllers.

His jaw clenched momentarily. "A grand ascent, undoubtedly. Though one might argue the altitude was carefully charted by a seasoned hand. Perhaps even an orchestrator."

"An orchestrator merely holds the baton, Tommy," Mariah countered, her hand rising to playfully adjust an invisible note in the air. "

Mariah: The music is conceived, composed, and delivered by the artist. And sometimes," her eyes gleamed, "the artist decides a key change is in order. A radical key change, perhaps, into a whole new symphony, entirely of their own making.

Thalía’s lips curved just a fraction, a quiet acknowledgment of the verbal fencing match. Marilyn, meanwhile, tilted her head slightly, her gaze drifting from Mariah to Tommy, as if trying to decipher the unwritten script of their interaction.

Tommy: Indeed, Tommy replied, a shade too smoothly. And some symphonies, no matter how... experimental... still echo familiar refrains. A certain vocal signature, perhaps?

Mariah took a deliberate step closer, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper that nonetheless carried to the silent pair.

Oh, the signature is undeniably mine, Tommy. A very expensive, very exclusive signature. One that now requires no external approvals for its every flourish, its every note. No more co-writing credits for… inspiration."

The barb landed true. Tommy's eyes flashed, and for a second, the veneer of polite society slipped, revealing a flicker of raw possessiveness. "Some inspirations, Mariah, are simply too grand to be contained.

They spill over, into everything."

Mariah’s smile widened, triumphant and utterly unrepentant. "And some inspirations, Tommy, eventually find their own voice.

A voice so loud, so clear, so unfettered, that it drowns out all the echoes from the past.

A voice that proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the conductor was always inside, waiting for the freedom to truly sing."

She let the last word hang in the air, a shimmering high note. Tommy Mottola, for once, seemed to have no immediate retort. His shoulders subtly tensed.

Tommy: Well then," he said, the words a little stiff. "Enjoy the... picture. I trust it will be as... compelling... as your recent works."

"I have every confidence it will be," Mariah said, her voice dripping with sweet, unyielding finality. "Unlike some narratives, it has a truly independent spirit."

With a nod that was closer to a dismissal than a greeting, she turned, gliding past Tommy, her sequined gown leaving a faint, shimmering trail.

As she disappeared into the growing crowd, Tommy remained, rigid for a moment, before forcing a casual adjustment of his cufflink.

Thalía and Marilyn remained perfectly still. Thalía’s quiet smile had deepened, a knowing glint in her eyes. Monroe, with that timeless, almost bewildered grace, slowly brought a hand to her lips, as if stifling a forgotten gasp, or perhaps, simply pondering the true cost of a life lived, and sung, so very publicly. The movie lobby, having hosted its own brief, dazzling drama, settled back into its expectant hush.

Mariah knew deep down, if Tommy never let her go, she would of never became a butterfly.

Vol.3 “Here For It All” Unlocks Aug.22 (In Honor Of Love Takes Time)