"Mathew kept us in the closet," LeToya says. "He didn't want us to know the truth. The truth is that he wasn't right. He wasn't right in a lot of things he was doing."

Knowles claims he's innocent of any wrongdoing. For proof he points to an audit he commissioned (at an expense he says reached $30,000) that proves he wasn't improperly managing the group's money. Randy A. Bowman, LeToya and LaTavia's lawyer, says Knowles's audit has no merit. "Until a forensic accountant has looked through these records, we don't know if all the money that was paid to Destiny's Child is reflected in those audits," he says. "We have no way of knowing if he received a million dollars and accounted for $400,000 of it in the context of the records he turned over. So until we know everything that came in and what he did with it, we can't have confidence in any of the records."

LeToya also maintains that she and LaTavia didn't know they'd been dismissed until they saw the "Say My Name" video, featuring Michelle and Farrah in their places. "Our attorneys talked to their attorneys every day," says Beyoncé. "They got letters from us and calls from us, and they got a letter from the label, so I don't know why they're even saying they didn't know they were out of the group." The pair have since signed a deal with Arista Records and are very close to bringing on a third member.

These aren't the only sensational charges being leveled against the Knowles clan. Former member Farrah Franklin, who met the others when she was an extra in the "Bills, Bills, Bills" video, says the Knowleses are, "Kinda like a cult. They don't have friends who aren't in the Destiny's Child clique." Franklin also claims she was told to go to tanning salons and dye her hair red in order to be in the group. "Yeah, I told her she needed to get a tan when she first came in because she was replacing LaTavia, who was darker than her," says Tina Knowles.

Farrah says she explained the Destiny's Child's image hinged on each girl having an entirely different look and that she would only have to tan for the first video. Farrah claims she also lost some of her hair in addition to her own identity. "By the time Tina would do Beyoncé's weave, Kelly's pieces, and Michelle's weave, she would just run a pressing comb through my hair and do whatever to it," she sighs. "I was always last to get my hair and makeup done. As far as picking out outfits, I always got the leftovers, or what was once LaTavia's."

Farrah was given her pink slip last summer after missing an important series of engagements, namely a weeklong promotional tour in Australia. All agree she never really fit in with the group's image. It also didn't help that two months after Farrah joined the group she was found on the cover of Tariq "K-Flex" Nasheed's unabashed how-to-manipulate-women book The Art of Mackin', draped over the author, who is portrayed on the cover as an unsavory mack. "Destiny's Child does not have a bad-girl image," Kelly says.

Michelle, who hasn't been voted off of Destiny's Island, tows the group's line, calling Farrah "crazy" and her allegations "very unnecessary bullcrap that's absolutely ridiculous." And when Mathew Knowles told her to drop her more ethnic first name, Tenetria, and go by her middle name, Michelle, that's what she did, no questions asked. "Either way it was fine with me," she says nonchalantly, after struggling to remember why her name had to be changed in the first place. (Farrah claims Knowles thought it was too "soulful"). "They could've called me T.T., which is my nickname and it would have been fine. I wouldn't dare make that an issue. That's stupid. You're getting a paycheck every month," Michelle quickly clarifies. "I mean money ain't all it's about. But look at it‹you're traveling every day, flying first class, staying in the best hotels and you're tripping about a hair color and your name?"

The scene outside New York City's Apollo Theater is a study in controlled madness. Publicists zoom back and forth, frantically barking orders into headsets. Eager teenagers cluster on Harlem's 125th Street despite the night's uncomfortable drizzle. Their hungry eyes dart between the B-list celebrities strolling down the red carpet and the stretch limos rolling up the block. They're all here for a concert featuring TRL staples like Nelly, Lil' Bow Wow, and Samantha Mumba.

Mathew Knowles watches for the evening's headliners, Destiny's Child, to arrive. When word spreads the group is nearing the entrance, the crowd can barely contain themselves. But a big girl with school bully written all over her, is not impressed. "I can't stand me no Destiny's Child," she declares. "[Beyoncé and] them girls is dead wrong."

Knowles, within earshot, turns around and snaps, "That's my daughter!"

"So, I don't give a fuck!" the girl shoots back, ending the conversation. Knowles offers a sheepish grin, as if embarrassed by his unexpected display of emotion. At this moment he is not a collected manager of the group Destiny's Child, he is a father defending his daughter's honor.

Mathew Knowles, 6'4", is a blunt, direct man. He still walks like the college basketball player he once was. Mustached and well groomed, he's the type of man older women call "fine." Before he entered the music industry he worked in sales and marketing for 20 years, selling CT and MRI scanners. He's fond of trite maxims like "failure to plan is planning to fail." When you ask him why he picked

Farrah as a replacement if she couldn't really sing, he curtly answers "imaging. Plain and simple." Knowles is flattered when compared to Berry Gordy for his business acumen. However, when it comes to power, Knowles says, "I wish I had the influence that people give me. You think MTV is gonna allow me to call up and say, 'Oh, I'm Beyoncé's dad, so I want you to let her host this show.' Or, I can call and say, 'Hey, I'm Beyoncé's dad, so I want her to write the song and then you're going to invest millions on it.'" He may not hold sway over MTV, but it's clear he's used to wearing the pants in the Knowles's household.

One evening while Tina discusses the severed relationship with Jagged Edge on the phone, Knowles picks up another receiver and interrupts the conversation to make clear he's not about to let some lawsuit-filing ingrates [LaTavia and LeToya] destroy everything he and the girls have built in the last decade. "Let me tell you what I'm not going to let you, Tina, do. You're not going to embarrass Columbia Records. You're not going to have two artists on the same label fighting.

"Destiny's Child is bigger than its members for the same reason that it doesn't matter who runs Coca-Cola," Knowles explains. "It's a trademark. It allows you to be able to change members. As long as you got a hit song there will always be a Destiny's Child. The day there's not a hit song it don't matter if Beyoncé's singing. If you ain't got no hit songs, it's gone. It's as simple as that."

Such pronouncements may sound terribly cold, but according to music historian Patricia Romanowski, co-author of Supreme Faith and Temptations, in order to survive in the dog-eat-dog music industry you've got to play hardball and no one does it better than family-run organizations. "There's a high level of discipline in these entities. You're either with the team or you're not. Nobody takes any crap because the whole family is at risk," she says. "The groups that succeed are less forgiving. They get rid of the problem. It's very Darwinian, survival of the fittest."

Kelly scoffs at the suggestion that her surrogate dad is heartless, controlling, or a bit of an egomaniac. "He's my hero," says Kelly. "Mathew has sacrificed so much for us. He

didn't have to take me in. He didn't have to sell his house and his cars for us. He didn't have to give up his life for Destiny's Child," says Kelly.

When asked whether he's a better father or manager, Knowles fumbles then replies, "I continually work on being a better father. But with Beyoncé, I've had to compromise being a father to be a manager."

And it ain't easy being Beyoncé. Never have the words "don't hate me because I'm beautiful" applied more. In Minnesota, she walked onstage and was greeted by a sign that read beyonce is a bitch! She recalls another time when a "hater" stood front row center mouthing the words, "You ain't cute, you ain't cute." It's a lot for one person to handle. "There's so much pressure on me," Beyoncé says, her voice cracking slightly. "I have to work double-time, because everybody in the audience is trying to say that the only reason I got something is because of my dad. I've got to be extra tight.

I have to prove myself every day. It's really unfair, because nobody else has to do that. It's not Sisqo's fault when he sings lead. It's not Coko's fault that she sang lead. The haters make me feel bad about singing lead, when that should be something that I'm happy about. Sometimes I wish my father wasn't the manager, so people would just stop attacking me." She continues, "Whenever something goes wrong in the group, it's my fault. Blame

Beyoncé. Somebody left the group, it's Beyoncé's fault. Kelly broke her toes [an injury sustained on the road that almost curtailed the tour], it's Beyoncé's fault."

One wonders what people will make of Beyoncé when she decides to take a break from the group and pursue solo projects. The lead singer denies published reports that she has already signed a three-record solo deal with Columbia for $1.5 million, but does confirm that all the members are negotiating solo deals. "Kelly wants to do an alternative album, and Michelle wants to do a gospel album."

Beyoncé plans on keeping her sound the same.

Now inside, far away from the rumors, the haters, the liars, the former members, and the lawsuit, the ladies of Destiny's Child are in a dressing room at the Apollo, gearing up to go before the audience. After a quick practice, the girls huddle in a close circle. Kelly leads the group prayer. "God bless our voices, let our melodies be tight. Let our dances be tight," she begs. "God, we ask you to fill us up with your light. We have no reason to be sad or negative." The room grows as warm as a Methodist church on Sunday as

Kelly closes her prayer: "Thank you, God, for bringing us to each other." Amen.