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'sPoint of ViewAswraps up her act, her true intentions become crystal clear—this isn't just ashowcase of her design. She's showing off, each word, every calculated look myway, all the pauses filled with sickly sweet memories aimed at me to hear andgrasp why she's pulling this stunt. She's out to prove a point, to ensure Inotice her, that I listen to her take on the past, the one she's tweaked to fither own story.Shestill has not change. She is still the woman who seeks validation andattention. Still,despite her obvious attempt to get under my skin, I find myself unable to givea damn.Becausesomething way scarier, way more urgent, occupies every corner of my mind.If she ishere... it means Knoxx is here too.Thisthought hits me like a massive wave making my body freeze as fear twists in mygut. It's the only thing that makes sense. Dolly wouldn't show up here byherself. She wouldn't join this contest, in this country, unless she felt safe.And who else could g
Dolly’sPoint of ViewTheinstant I spot her, the world around me vanishes. The babble of othercontestants turns into a faint buzz, the camera flashes and clinking glassesbecome white noise. My body tenses up, my breath stops, as my brain tries tomake sense of the impossible view in front of me.Caroline.Shestands there, alive, breathing radiating a self-assurance that makes my guttwist with discomfort. My nails sink into my palm, my heart races with a blendof disbelief and fury.Sheshould have been dead.Afterthe divorce, I thought she had vanished into thin air consumed by her ownfailure. I pictured her shattered, adrift crushed by the fact that she had losteverything. I assumed she'd be scraping by forgotten by everyone cast asidelike the pitiful woman she'd always been. Because from the very beginning thatis how it should be. She has no place in Knoxx and she has no rights to be!Butinstead—She'shere.And shelooks even more stunning than she did three years ago. I
Caroline’sPoint of View“Liamgot into fight. He started it. Please, come quickly as you can to know moreabout what happen.”I actfast. The call ends, and I snatch my purse and bolt out the door. My heartpounds in my ears. My hands quiver as I clutch the steering wheel pushing thegas pedal too hard.Liamgot into a fight.And hestarted it.Thesewords keep echoing in my head. I can't wrap my mind around it. My Liam—my sweetkind gentle boy—he wouldn't just strike someone without cause. Would he?Anawful thought sneaks into my mind one I want to ignore, but I can't help it.I saw hertoday.Andbecause of that, I thought of him.KnoxxWayne.My guttwists. I grip the steering wheel tighter. For years, I've tried to wipe himfrom my life, from my son's life. But now, he seems to seep back in taintingeverything.Knoxxwas brutal. Heartless. He used his power to dominate, to scare, to get his way.And Liam...No. No.I shake my head trying to push the idea away. Liam is nothing li
Caroline’sPoint of ViewTheteacher and I take our seats in the security office. She starts the footagefrom when the incident began. I wait , my pulse racing as the video plays onthe monitor.And asAdrian described, I witness it all.Liamand the other kid—Ethan—stand in the play zone surrounded by brighttoys. Ethan talks waving his little hands. Liam looks uncomfortable ill atease, but Ethan continues. He moves closer trying to grab Liam's wrist.Then,it unfolds.Ethanmoves in.Liamrecoils, fear evident on his face. Ethan advances, and Liam, terrified, pusheshim away with both hands. Ethan loses his balance almost falling, before theteacher hurries over to step in.I letout a breath clutching my purse tighter.Liam hadspoken .Heshowed no aggression. He displayed no violence. He just felt afraid.A senseof remorse weighs on me.I madea wrong assessment of him.Iallowed my worries to cloud my judgment, and now, my son believes I don't havefaith in him.When Icome ba
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