Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit in the principal’s office and clutchthe edge of my chair and listen to her polite but firm refusal. Her expressionis neutral, professional; but I catch the judgement hiding in her meticulouslychosen words.“We thank you for your interest, Miss Hill,” she says with atight-lipped smile. "However, we have very limited spots available, and weprioritize students who come from stable backgrounds. That is morebeneficial for children than providing a quote-unquote stable or consistentenvironment."I stiffen. "My son has a supportiveand consistent environment," I say, keeping my voice calm even though mystomach twists. The principal folds her hands on the deskand nods, though her smile doesn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sure you do your best,but there are some challenges as a single mother that you may not anticipate.We have a very rigorous academic structure here, and we’ve noticed that children from two-parenthouseholds do really well in this kind of env
Caroline’s Point of ViewI still feel anxious after leaving thekindergarten. Even when I try to ignore it, it sticks in my mind. The best ofeverything should be offered to my son, and I feel that I failed him today.When we walked out, I still remember the look on his little face. It was atthat point his expression changed, his shoulders drooping like they were heavy.Despite being so young, he had to deal with rejection for something he didn'tdo wrong.That burden falls on me alone.I take a sharp breath and shake my head,trying to dispel the thoughts that haunt me. But they cling on, refusing to letgo.Adrian notices, of course. He always picksup on when something is bothering me. Whenever I am bothered by something, heis the first to pick up on it. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he watchesme poke cold food on my plate. "Caroline," he says, his voice amixture of softness and concern. “Stop overthinking.”I look up, surprised by his insight. “I’mnot—”“You are,” he g
Caroline’s Point of ViewI am paralyzed with shock. My breath getsstuck somewhere in the throat and my heart pounds in my chest. This isoverwhelming. I'm not sure what to say or think as thereality of his words sinks in.What?Before I can even process his words, theworld around me blurs, and everything else fades into the background.He said what?I stare at Adrian, my heart pounding, my brainstruggling to process his words."You… what?" I manage to say, my voicetrembling and soft. Did I really hear him correctly? Did he genuinely just tellthe kindergarten that we were engaged? He leans back against the bench, licking his icecream as if he hasn't just dropped a bomb on me and, after a moment, smirks."Relax, I am just kidding."I blink, completely caught off guard."What?" I ask, trying to grasp what just happened. He laughs, obviously getting a kick out of myreaction. "I didn't say we were engaged. I just made a small donation tohelp them build a new playground. They ag
Caroline’s Point of ViewI step into my home, feeling the warm comfort wraparound me like a warm blanket. Vanilla and the scent of something sweet bakingin the oven fill the air. It makes me feel welcome, relaxing me and comfortingme like I'm at home. It's the kind of warmth I imagined a family wouldhave, this feeling of being at home and comforted that overcomes me. I drop mybag on the floor and take a moment to soak it all in. In a flash, a tiny shaperuns towards me, breaking my moment of tranquility."Mommy! You're home!" My son launcheshimself into my arms, wrapping them around me. I wrap mine around him,breathing in his scent, feeling the strong beat of his little heart againstmine."I'm home, sweetheart," I whisper,leaving a kiss on the crown of his head.He looks at me, his eyes shining. "Daddy'smaking my birthday cake! It'll be out soon. He'll be out in a minute!"Wait!Daddy?I freeze. The warmth in my chest stutters for abrief second.I glance around. The house
Caroline’sPoint of ViewStaringat the laptop, I sit at my desk; the official announcement of the comingjewelry design contest in Italy blinks in front of me. My fingers hover aboutthe keyboard as I read the details for the tenth time.One ofthe most prestigious competitions in the industry, conducted globally by one ofthe oldest and most well-respected jewelry houses, the grand prize ismembership with them. But that is not why I am interested—more so with therecognition, not a position there. My new studio is just starting to find itsfeet, and to win or even just leave a mark in this competition might meangetting my break.Myheart starts racing as I almost lose my breath. Part of me is eager; that's thedrive to be able to prove myself. Another part lingers-a part that remembersthe hurt of last times.Welteringmemories, both unwelcome and painful, down into my mind-I remember back to whenI was last involved in such a competition. The anticipation and all that joylightin
Dolly’sPoint of ViewIscroll through my phone, tapping my fingers on the screen as I read theannouncement for the jewelry design competition in Italy. A sneer forms on mylips. This company? I've never regarded them highly. They boast about theirtradition and craftsmanship, but they don't stand out to me. Yet, thecompetition is reputable, and the media attention is extensive. It’s the sortof opportunity that could transform someone’s life.Notthat I need them to change mine. I’m already the best. But I need leverage. Ineed a reason for Knoxx to finally take the next step.I turnmy head slightly, stealing a glance at him from across the room. He’s sprawledon the couch, his arm draped casually over the back as he watches my daughterplay with one of her toys. This moment should fill me with warmth, but instead,I feel a surge of frustration.It’sbeen years. Years since Caroline left. Years since I came back. And yet, hestill refuses to marry me. Still refuses to make ‘our’ f
Caroline’s Point of ViewI take a step back and look over the shop,pride swelling to the surface of my chest. The glass display cases, recentlyinstalled, shine with gentle light, and walls boast decorations of equally goodtaste carefully selected to enhance the classy image I had envisioned. My ownjewelry studio at last appears to be coming together. It has not been easy andI know there is more to come, but seeing it all begin to come together fills mewith hope.Tomorrow, I will have a soft opening, alow-key announcement to inform people that my brand is here. I don't want a biglaunch—just a steady, solid beginning. My work will speak for itself, and Ibelieve in it enough to know it will.But my happiness does not last long.The instant the front door is flung open, arough looking of men enter. There are three of them—tough-looking,leathery-clad, and with the odor of smoke about them. There is one, the tallestone, with a scar down the left side of his cheek. He advances fo
Caroline Point of ViewThe next day, I arrive at my shop early, expecting another day of long hours of cleaning up and fixing the mess of the day before. But when I emerge onto the sidewalk, I am stopped. The walls that had been defaced with vulgar graffiti just yesterday are spotless. The crude words spray-painted across my store’s sign are gone, as if they were never there. Even the sidewalk, which had been littered with trash, looks freshly cleaned.I blink, confused. Did the city workers clean it up? No, that wouldn’t make sense. There’s no way they’d work that fast for a single shop.Then, I hear it.“Miss Hill, we are truly sorry!”I turn sharply toward the voice and see the same group of men from yesterday—the ones who had demanded a protection f*e. The same gangsters who had laughed when I told them I wasn’t paying them a single cent. But now, instead of smug arrogance, they look… terrified.One of them, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, actually bows. “We had no
Caroline's Point of ViewI sit on the couch, my fingers touch the edge of my glass creating a soft clink that breaks the quiet between Adrian and me. My brain can't stop, ideas colliding as I look at Adrian, who sits across from me. His face gives nothing away, his body seems at ease, but I know better. I understand him more deeply. Something always hides under the surface with him.The impact of this revelation hits me hard making breathing tough. For years, I clung to that memory—gripped it like a lifeline during my marriage's worst times, as if it proved Knoxx could do something good, something unselfish. But it wasn't him. It was Adrian.I let out a slow breath before I break the quiet. "Adrian," I begin, my voice gentler than I meant it to be. "The watch... that day... you saved me, didn't you?"Adrian looks at me, his dark eyes calm hard to read. He doesn't answer right away, which makes my heart race with suspense.After what seems like forever, he sits back on the couch drummi
Caroline’s Point of ViewI hesitate for a moment before knocking on Liam’s bedroom door, the soft sound barely audible in the quiet hallway. My fingers tighten slightly against the wood as I wait for a response. When none comes, I push the door open gently, peeking inside.Liam is curled up on his bed, his small frame illuminated by the glow of his nightlight. The soft, star-shaped light casts a faint pattern against the walls, a comforting presence in an otherwise heavy atmosphere.He doesn’t look at me when I enter.Instead, he stares at the ceiling, his brows furrowed in deep thought, his little hands gripping the blanket tightly. The sight makes my chest ache. I know that look—I’ve worn it too many times myself.Something is eating at him.I take a slow step forward, keeping my voice gentle. “Hey, buddy,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Uncle Adrian said you came home upset today. Want to talk about it?”Liam’s reaction is immediate. His small shoulders tense, and he shake
Caroline’s Point of ViewAs expected, Adrian’s entire demeanor shifts the moment his gaze lands on Alessandro. His usual cool confidence falters just enough for me to notice—the sharp furrow of his brows, the slight clench of his jaw, the way his shoulders stiffen like he’s bracing himself for something.Jealousy.It hums in the air between us, subtle but unmistakable.He steps forward, his movements controlled but laced with something tense, something taut and restrained. “Who’s this?” His voice is steady, but there’s a bite to it, a careful edge that makes my stomach flutter for reasons I don’t want to analyze too deeply.Alessandro, ever the charming one, doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. He offers a small smile, tilting his head as he introduces himself. “Alessandro Luca Romano,” he says smoothly, his Italian accent thick and effortless. “Caroline’s newest employee.”I can practically feel the heat of Adrian’s gaze as he shifts his attention to me, questioning, searching for somet
Dolly’s Point of ViewThe moment Knoxx mentions that our stay in Italy is only temporary, a sharp pang slices through my chest. I have always known this wasn’t permanent, but hearing it so plainly from his lips makes my stomach churn. It isn’t just about me anymore. My daughter loves it here.And I can’t say no to her.“Mommy, please,” she whines, tugging on the hem of my designer dress with her tiny hands. Her big, pleading eyes glisten as she looks up at me, her bottom lip jutting out in an almost perfect pout. “I don’t want to go back. I love it here. Italy is so much prettier than home! The people talk funny, but I like it!”I stroke her soft curls, my heart squeezing. She is my world, my perfect little angel. How can I deny her anything?I kneel in front of her, smoothing out the frills of her dress as I speak softly. “I know, sweetheart. Mommy loves it here too. But Daddy—” I hesitate, my lips pressing together. The words feel heavy, like they don’t belong in my mouth. “Daddy th
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe moment he speaks, I know I’m in trouble."I saw your job posting," he says, his deep, smooth voice laced with something effortlessly charming. "I’d like to apply."Penelope grips my wrist hard under the counter, and I barely suppress a wince.This man—this Italian god—is exactly the type of employee that would drive my customers crazy. And I don’t mean bad crazy. I mean good crazy. The buy-everything-in-the-store-just-to-see-him-smile kind of crazy.He's got a boyish charm, younger but still undeniably handsome. Tall and lean, he carries himself with effortless confidence, the kind that turns heads without trying. His dark brown hair is tousled in that perfect mix of careless and intentional, and his sharp, well-defined features make it impossible to look away.But it's his eyes that truly draw you in.A deep, warm hazel—alive with mischief, edged with something both playful and a little dangerous.He tilts his head, and I realize I’ve been quiet for too l
Caroline’s Point of ViewWinning the competition should have been the hardest part.I pour everything into my designs, fighting against sabotage, betrayal, and every possible obstacle thrown my way. Yet, standing in my boutique weeks later, watching the steady stream of customers come and go, I realize something.The real battle has just begun.Success has turned into an exhausting whirlwind. My inbox is constantly flooded with custom orders, my phone never stops buzzing with inquiries, and every time I sit down, another customer walks in needing assistance.At first, the rush of it all is exhilarating. Now? It’s just exhausting.Penelope leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching me struggle to balance three jewelry boxes while answering a customer's question. "You need help," she says, unimpressed."I’ve got it," I insist, shifting my grip.I do not have it.One box slips, and in my panic to catch it, the others follow.With a loud clatter, all three hit the floor.Penelope s
Caroline’s Point of ViewI grip my bag so tightly my fingers start to cramp. But I don’t loosen my hold. I don’t dare. Because if I do, I might lose my grip on more than just the bag—I might lose my grip on myself.My mind is still a storm of emotions, a violent whirlwind that refuses to settle, refuses to let me breathe. I replay every word of that kindergarten disaster, every sharp remark Dolly threw at me like knives, aiming straight for the parts of me she knew were already bruised."A child raised without a real father is bound to be unruly.""No wonder Knoxx replaced you."My jaw clenches, my teeth grinding together.How dare she?How dare she stand there, smug and victorious, as if she has some moral high ground over me?Dolly—the woman who stole my designs, my husband, and now wants to act as if she has the right to look down on me?The very thought of it makes my blood boil.I should have said more. Should have ripped her down from that pedestal she’s so desperate to stay on.
Caroline’s Point of View The call from the kindergarten comes when I’m in the middle of reviewing some design sketches. "Ms. Hill," the teacher's voice is tight with concern. "I'm sorry to bother you, but there's been… an incident with Liam." My heart stops for a second. I grip the phone tighter. "What happened?" The teacher sighs. "There was a disagreement between the children. Some of the kids… well, they were saying that Liam has no father. Another child defended him, but it escalated into a physical altercation." My breath catches. Liam. They bullied him again. I inhale sharply, trying to control the sharp sting in my chest. "Who defended him?" A pause. "Bryan." I blink, stunned. Bryan? Lorenzo’s son? That… that doesn’t make sense. Bryan had always been distant towards Liam, not outright cruel, but he never stood up for him either. So why now? I shake off the confusion, focusing on what’s important. "Is Liam hurt?" "No, but we need to address this
Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe moment Dolly steps into my house, holding our daughter in her arms, I feel nothing.Absolutely nothing.I stand there, watching as she moves past me with her usual bright, expectant smile, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor like she already owns the place. She looks around, her eyes lighting up, as if she’s envisioning the future she’s always wanted—the future she thinks she’s about to have.I should feel something.Satisfaction, maybe.Relief, even.But instead, there’s only this dull, suffocating weight in my chest, this gnawing emptiness that refuses to go away no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise.This was supposed to make me feel better.I brought them here for a reason.To prove a point.To show Caroline that I didn’t need her. That I moved on. That I had a family now, a woman who stayed by my side instead of walking away.But the moment I saw her face twist with that cold, indifferent expression, the moment she looked