Knoxx Point of ViewAdrian's gaze shifts abruptly, his earlier relaxed expression giving wayto a more guarded and hardened look. However, this fleeting moment of surpriseis quickly replaced by a smirk as he casually reclines against the bench,crossing his arms on top of it.With a drawl in his voice, Adrian addresses me as though we are oldacquaintances unexpectedly crossing paths. "Well, well," he begins,his tone teasing. "Look who we have here. Knoxx Wayne, gracing the streetsof Italy. Who would’ve imagined?"Feeling the tension rise, my jaw clenches as I respond firmly,"Adrian."He cocks his head slightly, feigning a once-over appraisal of myappearance. "You seem different. The passage of time hasn't beenparticularly kind to you, has it?" A broader grin appears on his face."You appear... worn out, old and… stressed. It appears that taking on morethan you can handle has its consequences."Ignoring his attempts to provoke a reaction, I maintain a steady gaze,silently obse
Dolly‘s Point of ViewI watch as Adrian walks away, hand in hand with that boy, Liam. Knoxx is tense beside me, his jaw clenched so tightly I swear I can hear his teeth grind. His hands are shoved into his pockets, but I can see the twitch in his fingers. He wants to punch something—maybe Adrian, maybe the wall, maybe even himself.I take a slow breath, schooling my expression into something soft, something understanding. Then, I step closer, slipping my hand through his arm, pressing against him. "Knoxx, don’t let him get to you," I say gently, tilting my head so I can meet his dark, storming eyes. "You know how Adrian is. He just wants to make you angry. And that boy—his son—he’s probably the same as him. Like father, like son. You shouldn’t take anything they say seriously."Knoxx exhales sharply, his eyes still trained on the direction Adrian disappeared. "That kid..." he mutters, voice low.I feel my breath catch. Something about his tone sends a ripple of unease down my spine. "
Dolly’s Point of ViewI seeKnoxx is about to look at the message, and my heart nearly stops. The screen isstill lit, the message notification glaring up at me like a loaded gun, readyto go off.BeforeI can think, my body reacts on instinct—I snatch the phone out of his reach,clutching it so tightly my nails dig into the casing. My pulse is erratic,pounding so hard I swear he can hear it.Knoxx’sbrows pull together. His sharp gaze flicks from my hand to my face. Toofast. Too suspicious.“Whatwas that?” he asks, voice laced with mild irritation.Iswallow hard, forcing a breathy laugh. “Oh, it’s nothing,” I say, pretending tobe embarrassed. “Just… a stupid spam message. You know how these things are.”Hisexpression doesn’t change. He doesn’t look convinced.“Let mesee it.”Panicslams into me so fast I almost drop the phone. My grip tightens, my fingerstrembling as I force a casual shrug. Think. Think.I rollmy eyes, letting out a sigh like he’s being ridiculous. “It’s jus
Caroline’sPoint of ViewLiamcrashes through the front door first. His little feet slap against the floor ashe kicks his shoes off thrilled. "Mom! We're home!"I lookup from the stove. Garlic and butter smells float in the air. The kitchen feelswarm compared to the cold outside, but it's nothing like the warmth that startsto spread in my chest when I see my son. His messy hair, his pink cheeks fromthe cold, his bright eyes that always seem to be full of joy. It makes me stop,and I grip the wooden spoon I've been stirring with tighter.Helooks happy. Really happy.Adrianenters right after him, his presence filling the room, like he's always been apart of this place.I gulp.For asecond, I let myself think—the impossible dream that pops up before I can pushit away. The view of them together like this coming into the house bringing thechilly air, their laughter mixing with the home I've created. It's risky tothink this way.Topicture a future that can't be real.Afamily.
Caroline’sPoint of ViewTheempty sketchbook before me seems weightier than usual, as if its blank pagesmock me . I grip my pencil almost breaking the tip. Yet, I struggle to startdrawing.Noideas. No creativity.Just aheavy constricting sensation in my chest.I mustcreate this design. This contest isn't about winning—it's about showing I'mstill myself. That I still offer something valuable, somethingworthwhile. After all my losses, after facing so many rejections, this is myopportunity to establish myself again.Butevery idea feels off.I'veconsidered all the usual options—rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets—itemspeople expect. Items that would sell. But the idea of designingsomething solely for the market, without meaning, makes me feel sick. I don'twant to create something people will forget. I want something that will matter.Something that make people remember my name. Something the first time they seeit, they will rememer me or think of me.But howcan I achiev
Caroline’s Point of ViewDinner has a warm familiar feel, the kindof comfort I never knew I missed until I had it again. Laughter echoes throughmy apartment—Liam's cheerful giggles blend with Adrian's deep chuckles, while Penelope'splayful comments weave through it all. The aroma of home-cooked food hangs inthe air enveloping us like a gentle hug.For the first time in ages, I feelcomplete.Adrian sits next to me fitting into thespace as if he belongs here. And the thrilling feeling part is—he does.He reaches across the table to help Liamcut his food. He steadies the boy's hand as he guides the knife through themeat. He makes sure the vegetables stay on Liam's fork when he tries to pushthem aside. His movements show no doubt, as if this is natural to him.Liam doesn't mind. He loves the attentionenjoying every moment.I swallow hard. Something tightens in mychest.Penelope though, is watching. She'swatching me.I know what her eyes say without lookingup.I give her a ste
Caroline’sPoint of ViewTheemail appears on my computer screen just as I'm fixing up the display case inmy store focusing on positioning the jewelry to catch the light . I barely lookat it at first thinking it's another everyday email, another question, anotherpointless notification I can deal with later.Butthen—Myheart skips a beat when I see the subject line."Congratulations!You've made it to the final round!"Myheart pounds against my chest as I rush to open the email. My fingers shake abit as I move the mouse. At first, the words don't make sense. I'm too shockedto understand them. But I force myself to focus and read every word ."DearMs. Hill, we are pleased to inform you that your design has been selected asone of the top three finalists in the competition. You have been invited to anexclusive dinner event where the winners will be announced. More detailsbelow."I lookat the screen. The words sink in slowly, one after another, until I grasp whatthey mean.Fi
Caroline’sPoint of ViewA waveof icy fear crashes over me and for a moment, I struggle to breathe.Arestless energy pulses under my skin making it hard to stay put. My fingersdrum on the table's surface, my leg jiggles a bit as I keep glancing at thehall's entrance. The sounds around me—polite talk occasional laughs, glassesclinking—blend into a vague buzz. My brain feels too knotted with worry to makesense of anything .Ishouldn't feel this way.I wantto concentrate. Today matters. It's the time we submit our designs, theresult of weeks of work, imagination, and all-nighters. I ought to feel sure ofmyself prepared to step up and take my spot among the top contenders. Butinstead, an odd growing worry twists in my gut making it tough to breathe.Why?Justbecause I hear Dolly’s name again after years. It has been years, I should havethrown away all the betrayal I have received from them. However, they areright, old wounds doesn’t mean it is completely heal."Caroline?"I
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe hospital halls are quieter than usual this afternoon. Adrian is still asleep when I come back from the nurse’s station, where I asked for his updated chart. He’s stable. Recovering well, they said. But even if they didn’t, I think I would’ve stayed right here anyway. I sink into the chair beside his bed and fold his blanket higher on his chest. His breathing is slow, steady. Peaceful.I don’t know how long I just sit there staring at him. Watching his fingers twitch slightly in his sleep. I’ve memorized every line of his face these past few days, every scar and freckle, every soft crease that forms when he dreams. Sometimes, I wonder what he dreams about. Does he know I’m here?There’s no schedule in my head anymore. No outside world. No thoughts of work, the shop, or anything else. Just this room. Just him.The door clicks open behind me.I don’t need to look to know it’s Knoxx. The air shifts the moment he walks in—thick with that same tension that’s bee
Penelope's Point of ViewI knock on Liam’s door, glancing at the time on my phone. Caroline’s still at the hospital, taking care of Adrian. I offered to drop by the house and help with Liam since I know her hands are full. Plus, I miss the kid. There’s something about Liam’s energy that makes everything feel lighter.The door opens, and the nanny greets me with a smile. “Hi, Ms. Penelope. Liam’s inside drawing. He’s been asking if you’re coming.”My chest warms. “Good. I brought snacks.”I head inside, dropping my bag by the counter before walking into the living room. Liam is sitting cross-legged on the rug, his little hand moving crayons across a piece of paper. He looks up and beams when he sees me.“Penny!” he says, jumping to his feet and running to hug me.I kneel to catch him. “Hey, bud. You missed me?”He nods. “Mama’s busy. Daddy is sick. But I made drawings.”“I can’t wait to see them.”He pulls me by the hand, dragging me to the living room floor. I sit down beside him as h
Caroline’s Point of ViewKnoxx is standing in front of me again. Same expensive suit. Same arrogant posture. Same eyes that once used to undo me with a single look. Not anymore.I don’t flinch when he speaks.“You really won’t even look at me?”I cross my arms, leaning back against the wall of the hospital waiting area. The air smells sterile and cold. But inside, I feel oddly still. Numb, even.“I’m looking at you right now,” I say quietly.“That’s not what I meant,” he replies. He shifts on his feet like he’s uncomfortable. “Caroline… everything’s out. Everyone knows what Dolly did. She’s going to prison. You don’t have to keep pretending like you’re angry at me.”“I’m not pretending,” I say, still calm. Too calm. “And I’m not angry.”He frowns. “You’re not?”
Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe jail reeks of sweat, piss, and something else I can’t name. The kind of scent that clings to your skin long after you leave. I’ve been standing here for ten minutes, waiting for them to bring her out. I’m not pacing. I’m not anxious. I’m angry. And the longer I stand here, the more it simmers.She finally walks in—Dolly. Her wrists are cuffed, her hair a tangled mess, lips dry and pale. Her eyes flicker up to mine, hopeful. God. Still hopeful.“Knoxx,” she says, a breathy smile tugging at her lips. “You came.”I sit down across from her, hands clasped, jaw tight. “Don’t act surprised. You knew I would.”She leans forward like this is a reunion. “I didn’t think you’d visit this soon.”“I didn’t come to visit,” I snap. “This isn’t a visit. This is the last time we’ll speak.”Her smile falters, but she covers it quickly. “You’re upset. I get it. The media’s twisting everything—”“Stop talking.”Her mouth shuts.I breathe through my nose, steady, even, but inside
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit across from the detective in the cold, gray-walled interrogation room, the recorder lying on the table between us. My fingers tremble slightly as I slide the flash drive across the smooth surface. I’ve played this moment in my head all night—how I’d hand over the truth, how I’d finally clear my name.“This is it,” I say, voice low but steady. “Everything she confessed. It’s all there.”Detective Ramirez picks up the drive, giving me a long, assessing look. “You’re sure she wasn’t coerced? No threats?”I meet his gaze. “She talked on her own. I just listened.”He nods slowly, motioning for the officer behind the mirror to take it for processing. My stomach tightens as the door clicks shut again. The moment feels heavier than I imagined.“She admitted to the theft of your designs, the drugging incident, and the incident involving the late Mr. Wayne?” he asks.“Yes,” I say. “She confessed to all of it. She also named someone else. A man. I don’t know his fu
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe door clicks open, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.The surgeon steps inside, still wearing his scrubs. His gloves are off, and his face is tight, but it’s not the kind of tight that screams bad news. It’s calm. Measured.I shoot to my feet.“Is he—?” I choke on the rest of the sentence. My legs feel shaky. I grip the back of the plastic chair for balance.“He’s alive,” the doctor says.I drop into the chair.Alive.My vision blurs, and I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste salt. I cover my mouth, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Alive.“He lost a lot of blood,” the doctor continues, his tone clinical, but kind. “The stab wound punctured a lung, but we were able to stop the bleeding. He’s stable now. He’ll need rest. Weeks of it. But he’s going to recover.”I nod furiously, even though I can barely hear him over the pounding in my chest.“Can I see him?”He nods. “We’ll move him to recovery in a few minutes. He’s still unconscious, but
Caroline’s Point of ViewKnoxx is standing in front of me again. Same expensive suit. Same arrogant posture. Same eyes that once used to undo me with a single look. Not anymore.I don’t flinch when he speaks.“You really won’t even look at me?”I cross my arms, leaning back against the wall of the hospital waiting area. The air smells sterile and cold. But inside, I feel oddly still. Numb, even.“I’m looking at you right now,” I say quietly.“That’s not what I meant,” he replies. He shifts on his feet like he’s uncomfortable. “Caroline… everything’s out. Everyone knows what Dolly did. She’s going to prison. You don’t have to keep pretending like you’re angry at me.”“I’m not pretending,” I say, still calm. Too calm. “And I’m not angry.”He frowns. “You’re not?”
Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe jail reeks of sweat, piss, and something else I can’t name. The kind of scent that clings to your skin long after you leave. I’ve been standing here for ten minutes, waiting for them to bring her out. I’m not pacing. I’m not anxious. I’m angry. And the longer I stand here, the more it simmers.She finally walks in—Dolly. Her wrists are cuffed, her hair a tangled mess, lips dry and pale. Her eyes flicker up to mine, hopeful. God. Still hopeful.“Knoxx,” she says, a breathy smile tugging at her lips. “You came.”I sit down across from her, hands clasped, jaw tight. “Don’t act surprised. You knew I would.”She leans forward like this is a reunion. “I didn’t think you’d visit this soon.”“I didn’t come to visit,” I snap. “This isn’t a visit. This is the last time we’ll speak.&rd
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit across from the detective in the cold, gray-walled interrogation room, the recorder lying on the table between us. My fingers tremble slightly as I slide the flash drive across the smooth surface. I’ve played this moment in my head all night—how I’d hand over the truth, how I’d finally clear my name.“This is it,” I say, voice low but steady. “Everything she confessed. It’s all there.”Detective Ramirez picks up the drive, giving me a long, assessing look. “You’re sure she wasn’t coerced? No threats?”I meet his gaze. “She talked on her own. I just listened.”He nods slowly, motioning for the officer behind the mirror to take it for processing. My stomach tightens as the door clicks shut again. The moment feels heavier than I imagined.“She admitted to the theft of your designs, the drugging incident, and the incident involving the late Mr. Wayne?” he asks.“Yes,” I say. “She confessed to all of it. She also named someone else. A man. I don’t know his fu