Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie’s daughters, Zahara, Vivienne, and Shiloh, made headlines recently as it was revealed that they have adopted new names. This decision to change their names garnered significant reactions among fans and followers of the Hollywood star and his family.
Zahara Seemingly Drops Last Name
Zahara Jolie-Pitt, the eldest daughter of Hollywood’s former power couple Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, has embarked on a new chapter in her life as an official member of the Alpha Kappa Alpha organization at Spelman College in Atlanta. This has also come with a notable drop of the name “Pitt.”
In a captivating video shared by Essence, Zahara’s infectious energy and enthusiasm were on full display as she introduced herself during her sorority’s probate.
Dressed in a stylish black midi dress, gloves, and pearls, she proudly declared, “My name is Zahara Marley Jolie, coming all the way from the Golden State in the city that is full of angels, Los Angeles, California. I am this line’s number seven.”
Fans expressed their thoughts regarding the missing “Pitt” from her name during this significant moment. One commenter expressed disappointment, noting, “That’s a shame seeing as how life could have been different for her, and he played a part in changing her life for the better.” Another fan questioned the scrutiny aimed at Brad, asking, “Why are they giving Brad such a hard time?”
Another comment urged caution, stating, “I just hope this young lady is making decisions based on her own reality because to reject a parent is a BIG DEAL and should not be influenced by other people’s experiences or recollections.”
As she begins this new chapter in her life, it’s clear that Zahara’s name choice is eliciting thoughtful reflections on the complexities of family dynamics after her parents’ divorce.
Vivienne Changes Name Amid Parents’ Legal Feud — Report
Vivienne Jolie-Pitt is one of the twins of Angelina and Brad. When the twins were born in 2008, Brad was “very pleased to be at the birth of his children, very moved and very emotional,” said OB/GYN Dr. Michel Sussman.
Now 15, Vivienne is exploring her artistic side with her mom’s strong support. According to People, the Playbill for the musical “The Outsiders” lists her as “Vivienne Jolie,” notably without “Pitt.” This name change marks a significant step in Vivienne’s evolving public identity.
In the musical, Vivienne Jolie works as a production assistant, and her mother, Angelina, is the producer. She often joins her mom during the musical’s promotional tour.
In a recent appearance on “Today,” she was spotted watching Angelina from the crowd. Reflecting on her daughter’s role in the musical, Angelina shared that Vivienne’s enthusiasm for the project is driven by its focus on family.
The veteran actress said, “And the same reason it responded to her, the same reason she wanted me next to her watching it, the same reason we all hugged when I came out here is because this is about family and it’s about community…”
Before the promotional tour, the mother-daughter pair were spotted attending the musical’s preview in New York City. This rare outing marked a significant public appearance for Vivienne, her first since 2021, drawing attention from fans and media alike.
Vivienne’s reported name change and recent public appearances highlight the evolving dynamics of the Jolie-Pitt family, especially after a third child, Shiloh, chose to follow in the footsteps of Zahara and Vivienne.
Shiloh Jolie-Pitt Turned 18 and Unveiled Her New Moniker
Shiloh Jolie-Pitt, who turned 18 on May 27, has filed legal documents to drop her father Brad’s surname and use her mother, Angelina’s surname. She now wishes to be known simply as “Shiloh Jolie,” making this one of her first actions as an adult.
TMZ recently reported that Shiloh filed the paperwork on Memorial Day, which coincided with her birthday. The request for the name change has yet to be officially granted, but it is expected to be a matter of time before it becomes official.
Shiloh’s decision follows a trend within the family, as her sisters, Vivienne and Zahara, have also reportedly omitted “Pitt” on separate occasions. These changes in the children’s names come amid court documents suggesting Angelina may have influenced their strained relationship with Brad.
Recent claims against the actress surfaced through a statement from Tony Webb, owner of SRS Global, a security company that provided personal protection for Angelina. Webb, employed under Jolie from 2000 to 2020, shared insights from his experience.
“One of the two individuals, Ross Foster, specified that he intended to testify regardless of the NDA if he received a court subpoena,” Webb stated. He further revealed disturbing details about the potential testimony.
“When Mr. Foster told me this, he also told me that if asked, he would testify about statements he overheard that Ms. Jolie made to the children, encouraging them to avoid spending time with Mr. Pitt during custody visits,” he claimed.
This revelation sparked a fierce reaction across social media platforms, with many expressing dismay at Angelina. Others showed concern over the potential impact on the Jolie-Pitt children.
“The fact that she cannot see the harm this is doing to their kids is just shocking,” one person commented. This was echoed by another commenter who noted, “It’s probably why Shiloh is moving in with her father now… She’s realized her mother is vindictive and has been trying to alienate them from Brad for years.”
One called Angelina’s alleged move “the worse possible thing a person can do… alienate their children from a parent.” Meanwhile, another declared “Shame on her.”
The debate over Angelina’s actions led some to reflect on the cyclical nature of such behavior, attributing it to her tumultuous upbringing. “Her childhood was similar from what I read. Maybe she can’t break that perpetual cycle or doesn’t want to,” one claimed.
Besides Vivienne, Shiloh, and Zahara, Angelina is a mother to Knox, Pax, and Maddox. She shares all of them with Brad and despite the public’s critical perception, Angelina Jolie has continually strived to embody the role of a nurturing, attentive mother. This is, a commitment deeply rooted in the lessons taught by her own mom, Marcheline Bertrand.
In a candid revelation made back in 2011, Angelina shared insights into her parenting approach, which is heavily influenced by the relationship she cherished with her mother. Angelina emphasized the importance of not just being a parent but also a friend to her children.
She highlighted the invaluable connection she experienced through open communication and shared activities with her mother. This foundation has guided her in fostering a similar bond with her children, ensuring that despite their diverse backgrounds, they feel united as a family.
Remembering her mother’s gentle spirit and unwavering generosity, Angelina aspires to emulate these traits. Her aim is clear: to be as good a mother to her children as her mother was to her.
At My Grandma’s Funeral, I Saw My Mom Hiding a Package in the Coffin — I Quietly Took It & Was Stunned When I Looked Inside
At my grandmother’s funeral, I saw my mother discreetly slip a mysterious package into the coffin. When I took it later out of curiosity, I didn’t expect it would unravel heartbreaking secrets that would haunt me forever.
They say grief comes in waves, but for me, it strikes like missing stairs in the dark. My grandmother Catherine wasn’t just family; she was my best friend, my universe. She made me feel like the most precious thing in the world, enveloping me in hugs that felt like coming home. Standing beside her coffin last week, I felt untethered, like learning to breathe with only half a lung.
An older woman in a coffin | Source: Midjourney
The funeral home’s soft lighting cast gentle shadows across Grandma’s peaceful face. Her silver hair was arranged just the way she always wore it, and someone had put her favorite pearl necklace around her neck.
My fingers traced the smooth wood of the casket as memories flooded back. Just last month, we’d been sitting in her kitchen, sharing tea and laughter while she taught me her secret sugar cookie recipe
“Emerald, honey, she’s watching over you now, you know,” Mrs. Anderson, our next-door neighbor, placed a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses. “Your grandmother never stopped talking about her precious grandchild.”
A grieving young woman | Source: Midjourney
I wiped away a stray tear. “Remember how she used to make those incredible apple pies? The whole neighborhood would know it was Sunday just from the smell.”
“Oh, those pies! She’d send you over with slices for us, proud as could be. ‘Emerald helped with this one,’ she’d always say. ‘She has the perfect touch with the cinnamon.’”
“I tried making one last week,” I admitted, my voice catching. “It wasn’t the same. I picked up the phone to ask her what I’d done wrong, and then… the heart attack… the ambulance arrived and—”
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Anderson pulled me into a tight hug. “She knew how much you loved her. That’s what matters. And look at all these people here… she touched so many lives.”
An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
The funeral home was indeed crowded, filled with friends and neighbors sharing stories in hushed voices. I spotted my mother, Victoria, standing off to the side, checking her phone. She hadn’t shed a tear all day.
As Mrs. Anderson and I were talking, I saw my mother approach the casket. She glanced around furtively before leaning over it, her manicured hand slipping something inside. It looked like a small package.
When she straightened, her eyes darted around the room before she walked away, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.
A mature woman at a funeral | Source: Midjourney
“Did you see that?” I whispered, my heart suddenly racing.
“See what, dear?”
“My mom just…” I hesitated, watching my mother disappear into the ladies’ room. “Nothing. Just the grief playing tricks, I guess.”
But the unease settled in my stomach like a cold stone. Mom and Grandma had barely spoken in years. And there was no way my grandma would have asked for something to be put in her casket without my knowledge.
Something felt off.
A grieving woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney
Evening shadows lengthened across the funeral home’s windows as the last mourners filtered out. The scent of lilies and roses hung heavy in the air, mixing with the lingering perfume of departed guests.
My mother had left an hour ago, claiming a migraine, but her earlier behavior kept nagging at me like a splinter under my skin.
“Ms. Emerald?” The funeral director, Mr. Peters, appeared at my elbow. His kind face reminded me of my grandfather, who we’d lost five years ago. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be in my office whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you. Mr. Peters.”
An older man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
I waited until his footsteps faded before approaching Grandma’s casket again. The room felt different now. Heavier, filled with unspoken words and hidden truths.
In the quiet space, my heartbeat seemed impossibly loud. I leaned closer, examining every detail of Grandma’s peaceful face.
There, barely visible beneath the fold of her favorite blue dress — the one she’d worn to my college graduation — was the corner of something wrapped in blue cloth.
I wrestled with guilt, torn between loyalty to my mom and the need to honor Grandma’s wishes. But my duty to protect Grandma’s legacy outweighed it.
My hands trembled as I carefully reached in, extracted the package, and slipped it into my purse.
A woman holding a brown leather purse | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I whispered, touching her cold hand one last time. Her wedding ring caught the light, a final sparkle of the warmth she’d always carried.
“But something’s not right here. You taught me to trust my instincts, remember? You always said the truth matters more than comfort.”
Back home, I sat in Grandma’s old reading chair, the one she’d insisted I take when she moved to the smaller apartment last year. The package sat in my lap, wrapped in a familiar blue handkerchief.
I recognized the delicate “C” embroidered in the corner. I’d watched Grandma stitch it decades ago while she told me stories about her childhood.
A woman holding a small blue package | Source: Midjourney
“What secrets are you keeping, Mom?” I murmured, carefully untying the worn twine. My stomach churned at the sight that followed.
Inside were letters, dozens of them, each bearing my mother’s name in Grandma’s distinctive handwriting. The paper was yellowed at the edges, some creased from frequent handling.
A stunned woman holding a stack of old letters | Source: Midjourney
The first letter was dated three years ago. The paper was crisp, as if it had been read many times:
“Victoria,
I know what you did.
Did you think I wouldn’t notice the missing money? That I wouldn’t check my accounts? Month after month, I watched small amounts disappear. At first, I told myself there must be some mistake. That my own daughter wouldn’t steal from me. But we both know the truth, don’t we?
Your gambling has to stop. You’re destroying yourself and this family. I’ve tried to help you, to understand, but you keep lying to my face while taking more. Remember last Christmas when you swore you’d changed? When you cried and promised to get help? A week later, another $5,000 was gone.
I’m not writing this to shame you. I’m writing because it breaks my heart to watch you spiral like this.
Please, Victoria. Let me help you… really help you this time.
Mom”
A shocked woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I read letter after letter. Each one revealed more of the story I’d never known, painting a picture of betrayal that made my stomach turn.
The dates spread across years, the tone shifting from concern to anger to resignation.
One letter mentioned a family dinner where Mom had sworn she was done gambling.
I remembered that night — she’d seemed so sincere, tears streaming down her face as she hugged Grandma. Now I wondered if those tears had been real or just another performance.
A startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney
The final letter from Grandma made me catch my breath:
“Victoria,
You’ve made your choices. I’ve made mine. Everything I own will go to Emerald — the only person who’s shown me real love, not just used me as a personal bank. You may think you’ve gotten away with it all, but I promise you haven’t. The truth always comes to light.
Remember when Emerald was little, and you accused me of playing favorites? You said I loved her more than I loved you. The truth is, I loved you both differently but equally. The difference was that she loved me back without conditions, without wanting anything in return.
I still love you. I’ll always love you. But I cannot trust you.
Mom”
A surprised woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
My hands were shaking as I unfolded the last letter. This one was from my mother to Grandma, dated just two days ago, after Grandma’s death. The handwriting was sharp, angry strokes across the page:
“Mom,
Fine. You win. I admit it. I took the money. I needed it. You never understood what it’s like to feel that rush, that need. But guess what? Your clever little plan won’t work. Emerald adores me. She’ll give me whatever I ask for. Including her inheritance. Because she loves me. So in the end, I still win.
Maybe now you can stop trying to control everyone from beyond the grave. Goodbye.
Victoria”
A teary-eyed woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
Sleep eluded me that night. I paced my apartment, memories shifting and realigning with this new reality.
The Christmas gifts that always seemed too expensive. The times Mom had asked to “borrow” my credit card for emergencies. All those casual conversations about Grandma’s finances, disguised as daughter’s concern.
“Have you talked to Mom about getting power of attorney?” she’d asked one day. “You know how forgetful she’s getting.”
“She seems fine to me,” I’d replied.
“Just thinking ahead, sweetie. We need to protect her assets.”
My mother, driven solely by greed, had betrayed my grandmother and now, me.
A teary-eyed woman standing near the window | Source: Midjourney
By morning, my eyes were burning but my mind was clear. I called her, keeping my voice steady:
“Mom? Can we meet for coffee? There’s something important I need to give you.”
“What is it, sweetie?” Her voice dripped with honey-sweet concern. “Are you okay? You sound tired.”
“I’m fine. It’s about Grandma. She left a package for you. Said I should give it to you ‘when the time was right.’”
A mature woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh!” The eagerness in her voice made me wince. “Of course, darling. Where should we meet?”
“The coffee shop on Mill Street? The quiet one?”
“Perfect. You’re such a thoughtful daughter, Emerald. So different from how I was with my mother.”
The irony of her words was a dagger to my heart. “See you at two, Mom.” I then hung up.
A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
The bell above the door chimed as my mother entered the coffee shop that afternoon, her eyes immediately finding my purse on the table.
She was wearing her favorite red blazer — the one she always wore to important meetings.
She sat down, reaching for my hand across the worn wooden surface. “You look exhausted, sweetheart. This has all been so hard on you, hasn’t it? You and your grandmother were so close.”
I just nodded and placed a wrapped bundle on the table. Inside were blank pages with just two letters on top — Grandma’s “I know what you did” one, and one I’d written myself.
A mature woman holding a small gift-wrapped package | Source: Midjourney
“What’s this?” she asked, her perfectly manicured nails breaking the seal on the first envelope. I watched as the color completely drained from her face when she opened the second one, her fingers gripping the paper so tightly that it crumpled at the edges.
My letter was simple:
“Mom,
I have the rest of the letters. If you ever try to manipulate me or come after what Grandma left me, everyone will know the truth. All of it.
Emerald”
A mature woman gaping in shock while holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
“Emerald, honey, I—”
I rose before she could finish, watching years of deception dissolve in her tears. “I love you, Mom. But that doesn’t mean you can manipulate me. You lost my trust. Forever.”
With that, I turned around and stormed out, leaving her alone with the weight of her lies and the ghost of Grandma’s truth. I realized some lies can’t stay buried forever, no matter how hard you try.
A young woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
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