Caroline’s Poin of View[Come home.]I glance down at my phone, seeing a text from Knoxx. My brows furrow as I read it again. Home? Why? The confusion lingers in my mind as I sit down on the edge of the bed, staring at the message. There’s no explanation, just a request, or rather, a command.A part of me wants to ignore it, to keep the distance I’ve been trying to build between us. But then I think about Grandpa. His birthday is today, and I know I’m doing this for him, not for Knoxx.Reluctantly, I reply, [I’ll be there.]When I arrive at the house later that day, I’m surprised to see a team of stylists waiting for me. One of them approaches with a warm smile, holding a bundle of clothes. “We’re here to help you get ready for the party, Mrs. Hamilton.”My confusion deepens. "It's just Grandpa's birthday. Why do I need all this?" I ask, looking around at the racks of dresses and trays of makeup.Knoxx steps into the room, his tall frame taking up space like it always does. "There wil
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe loving couple we played fooled everyone, even Knoxx himself, who now looked like a devoted husband. His hand rests lightly on the small of my back, guiding me through the grand ballroom with ease, and his smile is warm and practiced, as though none of this is fake. To the guests, we’re the perfect picture of a happy couple, but I know the truth.Every glance he gives me, every small gesture, feels rehearsed. It’s all part of the act. The man beside me is the father of another woman’s child. My stomach churns at the thought, but I keep my face calm, offering smiles and polite nods. Tonight, none of this is for me—it’s for Grandpa.When we arrive at the dinner party, the grandeur of the venue hits me. The room is draped in golden fabric that glimmers under the light of massive crystal chandeliers, casting a warm glow across the tables adorned with pristine linens. Elaborate floral arrangements sit in the center of each table, and servers in black-and-white un
Knoxx’s Point of View“Wha…what did you just say, Karen?” Grandpa opens his mouth, but suddenly, his face drains of color. His hand shoots to his chest, and his breathing becomes ragged. He looks like he’s about to collapse, as if he’s having a heart attack.“Grandpa!” My heart stops for a second, panic gripping me as I watch him struggle.“Grandpa, calm down!” Caroline notices the change in Grandpa too. Her eyes widen with alarm, and she rushes toward him. “Take deep breaths. It’s okay.”I can see the worry in her eyes, and I know she’s thinking about what mom just said. Then, she turns her head to me. Her expression hardens and confuse. She swallows hard and speaks, “Knoxx, maybe we should just tell him now… he deserves to know.”“No!” I reach out to grab her arm, urgency flooding my voice. “Not now, please. Let’s not do this for now.”Grandpa's breathing grows more uneven, and he grips the table for support. “What is happening? Knoxx, Caroline—what are you two hiding from me?”I l
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit in the car, my heart still racing after everything Knoxx just told me. I can’t believe what I’ve just heard, and yet, the way he looked at me—desperate, almost broken—makes me want to believe him. But after everything we’ve been through, trusting him feels like stepping onto thin ice."Caroline, please," Knoxx says quietly, glancing at me from the driver’s seat. "I just need you to understand. I never wanted to hurt you."I lean my head against the window, fingers fidgeting with my phone. The memory of Dolly’s articles and their implications lingers like a shadow I can’t shake.I nod slowly, unsure of what to say. Part of me wants to scream, wants to ask why he didn’t tell me all of this sooner. But another part of me—the part that still loves him—wants to believe him. That part feels foolish, but it’s there, clinging to the hope that things could still change."I just don’t understand," I finally say, my voice edged with frustration. "Why didn’t you tell
Caroline’s Point of ViewIt’s Saturday, and my hands tremble as I adjust my dress for the hundredth time in front of the mirror. Today is supposed to be a turning point—Knoxx is finally going to meet my dad. The knot of nerves in my stomach tightens, but there’s a flicker of excitement too. For once, I have a chance to prove myself, not just to my dad but to myself as well.I glance at my phone, seeing a message from my father:[When will the young master come? Should I take out my fine china to entertain him?]The sarcasm in his words stings. He’s never been a fan of Knoxx, and his mocking tone makes it clear that he still doesn’t think highly of him. I grit my teeth, typing back a reply.[We’ll be there soon, Dad. Please just give him a chance.]I hit send, determined not to let his doubt ruin this day. Today isn’t just about Knoxx meeting my father—it’s about proving that this misunderstanding won’t define us. Once the air is cleared, I know we’ll be happy again.Knoxx walks into th
Caroline’s Point of ViewI step into my father’s office, the heavy wooden door creaking slightly as it closes behind me. The room feels cold and imposing, just as I remember it—lined with towering bookshelves and dominated by the massive mahogany desk in the center. My father doesn’t look up right away, his pen scratching against paper as he finishes whatever task has his attention.When he finally glances up, his piercing gaze lands on me, dissecting me in an instant. “So,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “What brings you back here, Caroline? Should I take out my finest china to entertain the young master, or is this a solo visit?”I square my shoulders, ignoring the sarcasm that drips from his words. “I lost,” I admit, my voice steady even as the admission slices through me. “I’m going to divorce him.”He sets his pen down, folding his hands neatly on the desk. “Ah,” he says, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The last time you appeared in this office, you wanted
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe morning shines through the curtains of the living room as I sit on the sofa, watching TV. After a moment, my phone rings, and I don’t have to look to know exactly who it is. Nonetheless, I still glance at the screen.Knoxx is calling...My heart doesn’t skip a beat. It doesn’t break. It just feels... tired. Still, I answer. I owe him that much.“Caroline,” Knoxx’s voice filters through the line. He sounds rushed, almost breathless. “I saw the papers... Look, I’m sorry about missing the visit to your dad. But something came up with Dolly. She thought—well, she thought she was having a miscarriage. I had to be there for her.”There’s a pause. He expects me to understand. He expects me to forgive him, like I always do.I hold the phone tighter, forcing my voice to stay calm, cold even. “Do you really think that’s why I’m divorcing you, Knoxx?”He hesitates. I can almost see the confusion on his face. He’s never good at understanding what’s right in front of hi
Caroline's Point of ViewI walk into the office for what I swear will be the last time. It’s strange how cold the place feels now—colder than usual. The building has always had this stiff, corporate vibe, but today, it feels almost unbearable. Maybe it’s because I know what I’m here to do: quit. End it all, both my job and my marriage.No one knows I’m Knoxx Wayne’s wife. Not my coworkers, not the higher-ups, no one. Knoxx insisted we keep it a secret. He said it was to avoid favoritism, to maintain professionalism. I convinced myself that made sense, that it wasn’t because he was ashamed or unwilling to acknowledge me publicly. But deep down, I knew better.We were already on the brink of divorce, so quitting my job here seems like the natural next step. There’s no point in working in his company anymore, no point in subjecting myself to the constant reminder of how invisible I am to him. I walk past my coworkers, most of them absorbed in their own tasks, and make my way to his offic
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 theday before. But when I emerge onto the sidewalk, I am stopped. The walls thathad been defaced with vulgar graffiti just yesterday are spotless. The crudewords spray-painted across my store’s sign are gone, as if they were neverthere. Even the sidewalk, which had been littered with trash, looks freshlycleaned.I blink, confused. Did the city workersclean it up? No, that wouldn’t make sense. There’s no way they’d work that fastfor a single shop.Then, I hear it.“Miss Hill, we are truly sorry!”I turn sharply toward the voice and see thesame group of men from yesterday—the ones who had demanded a protection fee.The same gangsters who had laughed when I told them I wasn’t paying them asingle cent. But now, instead of smug arrogance, they look… terrified.One of them, a burly man with a scarrunning down his cheek, actually bows. “We had no
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
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’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
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’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 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 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 ViewSilence fills the car, thick and heavy like a blanket. My son's question keeps replaying in my mind, over and over, making it hard to think of anything else.“If Uncle Adrian is not my daddy… then who is?”My breath catches. I feel Adrian still beside me, his hands frozen on the steering wheel.I turn to face my son, but no words come out. My heart pounds as I try to find an answer—one that won’t hurt him. And for the first time in a long time, I realize I don’t know what to say.I never thought he would ask this. I wasn’t ready for it. I had hoped he wouldn’t wonder about it, especially not now when things seemed so steady. I thought he was already seeing Adrian as his father. I thought he wouldn’t even ask about the man who should be here but isn’t. I tried to shield him from this difficult truth. Clearly, I was wrong.I take a deep breath, feeling shaky. I turn to look at him. His big, innocent eyes are focused on me, filled with curiosity and expectation