Caroline's Point of ViewThe museum buzzes with anticipation, an undercurrent of energy that I can feel thrumming in my bones. Voices blend into a low hum, whispers rippling through the crowd as people shift, adjusting their positions for a better view of the stage. Some reporters are already clutching their notepads and adjusting their cameras, eager to capture the final moments of the competition.But my focus isn’t on them.Because across the room, in the farthest corner, stands Adrian.And he’s holding Liam’s hand.My breath catches in my throat.Liam, small and fidgeting with barely contained excitement, is tugging slightly at Adrian’s arm, his little mouth moving quickly—probably asking questions about what’s happening. Adrian listens, nodding in that calm, patient way of his, but his eyes flick up.To me.Then, as if making a silent decision, Adrian bends down and effortlessly lifts Liam onto his shoulders.I inhale sharply, my fingers curling slightly against my dress.It’s su
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe cheers for the third-place winner quiet down to a low buzz mixing with the crowd's chatter and the sound of glasses tapping. The young woman on stage gives a small bow, her face red as she grips her award , afraid it might fall from her hands.I observe her noticing how her eyes jump around and how she keeps moving her feet as if she's still in disbelief about what's happening.She’s young. Maybe early twenties. Her design was good—not groundbreaking, not extraordinary—but there was potential. A lot of potential.A small pang of nostalgia grips me. I remember what it felt like to be her. To be young, to be filled with ambition, to want so badly to make a name for yourself in an industry that only respects experience. I know that hunger. I was that hunger.I exhale slowly, lifting my glass slightly in her direction before taking a sip.“She’s got talent,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. “Just needs experience.”Beside me, Penelope hums, tilting h
Dolly’s Point of ViewI can’t believe it.Even after all these years, there are still people so blind, so utterly clueless, that they still call her Mrs. Wayne.And the worst part?Knoxx doesn’t correct them.Not a single word. Not even a flicker of disagreement. He just stands there, letting them believe it, as if she still holds that title.As if she still matters.My fingers tighten around my champagne glass, the delicate stem pressing into my palm like a warning. Steady yourself, Dolly. Don’t let them see.But inside, I’m seething.I remember back in the United States, when people would mistakenly call me Mrs. Wayne. It happened more times than I could count. At dinners, in business meetings, even at charity events where we were seen together as a family.And every time, Knoxx would shake his head, his voice cool and firm as he corrected them.“We’re not married,” he’d say, almost indifferent. “She still has her own name.”That moment replays in my mind like a slap across the face
Caroline's Point of View“The winner of this competition is…”The host stops drawing out the moment until it's ready to snap, building the tension so high that it seems like everyone in the ballroom is holding their breath together. The suspense is heavy, overwhelming, with nervous energy buzzing through the room.I hear clothes rustling as people move in their chairs, glasses tinkling far off, and guests talking to each other. Every person here waits, braces themselves, their eyes glued to the stage.My heart beats so loud it drowns out all other sounds.I grip the delicate stem of my champagne glass with stiff fingers, my knuckles turning white from the pressure. My body stays rigid caught between anticipation and doubt.This is it.This is the moment that changes everything.Across the room, my gaze briefly flickers to Dolly. She remains motionless. Her frame seems tense almost frozen, her polished nails sinking into the tablecloth. Her eyes sharp and vigilant, stay fixed on the ho
Dolly's Point of ViewI can't breathe.The world around me seems to collapse, the walls of this grand venue push in from all sides. My ears ring, the sounds of the room fade to a dull hum, but one voice—one name—cuts through everything like a sharp unforgiving blade."The first-place winner is… Caroline Hill!"No.No.No.The room explodes into loud applause. A deafening, spirit-crushing sound. People stand up, clap cheer celebrate her.My body won't move. My heart pounds against my ribs, a fierce uneven beat that hurts my chest.This can't be true. It's impossible.Caroline? Caroline came out on top?My gut twists. Acid rises in my throat as I try to grasp the words that just broke my world. I breathe fast and shallow. My sight gets fuzzy as it sinks in—I didn't win.I didn't win.No.Why? Why?!I put in too much work for this. I gave up too much. My designs had no flaws—they were perfect. They told a tale sparked feelings, showed what love is!Caroline's work?It was just a dull de
Caroline's POVWhat... just happened?The ballroom's atmosphere changes so fast, I feel transported to a different world. Moments ago, everyone watched me. The announcer named me the winner, and applause, cheers, and praise for my work filled the room. But now—now it all slips away taken from me before I can understand it.The whispers start as a tiny ripple, a gentle wave of bewilderment spreads through the crowd. But then—The movement starts.People step back making a space in the room's center, creating an unplanned stage.And there, in the heart of it all—Down on one knee.Kneeling.Her hands shake, but her face shows a gentle planned smile, the image of love. In her hand, a ring sparkles under the bright ballroom lights.And she's offering it—To Knoxx.A nasty churning feeling grips my gut, my heartbeat stopping for a quick still second.What's she up to?But then, I get it.Of course I do.Because she is Dolly.Dolly, the one born to grab the limelight, to snatch what's not h
Knoxx’s Point of ViewWhat… just happened?One second, I’m watching Caroline stand on that stage, victorious, glowing under the ballroom lights as she accepts her trophy. My chest tightens at the sight—it should be me standing beside her. I should be the one sharing this moment with her. But before I can even begin to process the sharp pang of loss, my entire world tilts.Because then—I see him.Adrian.With his arms wrapped around her.Pulling her in—too close.My jaw tightens, my fingers clenching at my sides as a slow, seething heat begins to burn through my veins.And then, like a goddamn dagger to the gut—He presses his lips to her.Not fully. Not directly on her lips. But on the corner of her mouth—an intimacy so deliberate, so possessive, that my breath locks in my throat.A claim.The bastard kissed my wife.My head pounds, my entire body locking up as my gaze snaps to Caroline, waiting—needing—to see her reaction.Push him away, I tell her in my mind. Shove him. Slap him. D
Caroline’s Point of ViewMy husband’s first love ruins our third year anniversary.I’m sitting by the window of a fancy restaurant, nervously waiting for Knoxx, my husband. I dress up in my favorite black dress. It’s been three years of marriage—three years of hoping, waiting for the man I love to finally see me, to finally understand that I’m more than just a wife of convenience. That it is not all about the arranged marriage.I fiddle with the napkin in my lap, glancing at the clock, watching as each minute crawls by. Any moment now, Knoxx will walk through the door.Tonight feels different. Tonight, I feel like something is going to change.I had seen the headlines earlier this week:[Wayne Corp Heir Spends Fortune on Rare Ruby Necklace—A Gift for Someone Special!]"Someone special." Those two words have been ringing in my head ever since I read them. Who is more important to him than me, his wife?After all the distance between us, the missed anniversaries, the cold silences… perha
Knoxx’s Point of ViewWhat… just happened?One second, I’m watching Caroline stand on that stage, victorious, glowing under the ballroom lights as she accepts her trophy. My chest tightens at the sight—it should be me standing beside her. I should be the one sharing this moment with her. But before I can even begin to process the sharp pang of loss, my entire world tilts.Because then—I see him.Adrian.With his arms wrapped around her.Pulling her in—too close.My jaw tightens, my fingers clenching at my sides as a slow, seething heat begins to burn through my veins.And then, like a goddamn dagger to the gut—He presses his lips to her.Not fully. Not directly on her lips. But on the corner of her mouth—an intimacy so deliberate, so possessive, that my breath locks in my throat.A claim.The bastard kissed my wife.My head pounds, my entire body locking up as my gaze snaps to Caroline, waiting—needing—to see her reaction.Push him away, I tell her in my mind. Shove him. Slap him. D
Caroline's POVWhat... just happened?The ballroom's atmosphere changes so fast, I feel transported to a different world. Moments ago, everyone watched me. The announcer named me the winner, and applause, cheers, and praise for my work filled the room. But now—now it all slips away taken from me before I can understand it.The whispers start as a tiny ripple, a gentle wave of bewilderment spreads through the crowd. But then—The movement starts.People step back making a space in the room's center, creating an unplanned stage.And there, in the heart of it all—Down on one knee.Kneeling.Her hands shake, but her face shows a gentle planned smile, the image of love. In her hand, a ring sparkles under the bright ballroom lights.And she's offering it—To Knoxx.A nasty churning feeling grips my gut, my heartbeat stopping for a quick still second.What's she up to?But then, I get it.Of course I do.Because she is Dolly.Dolly, the one born to grab the limelight, to snatch what's not h
Dolly's Point of ViewI can't breathe.The world around me seems to collapse, the walls of this grand venue push in from all sides. My ears ring, the sounds of the room fade to a dull hum, but one voice—one name—cuts through everything like a sharp unforgiving blade."The first-place winner is… Caroline Hill!"No.No.No.The room explodes into loud applause. A deafening, spirit-crushing sound. People stand up, clap cheer celebrate her.My body won't move. My heart pounds against my ribs, a fierce uneven beat that hurts my chest.This can't be true. It's impossible.Caroline? Caroline came out on top?My gut twists. Acid rises in my throat as I try to grasp the words that just broke my world. I breathe fast and shallow. My sight gets fuzzy as it sinks in—I didn't win.I didn't win.No.Why? Why?!I put in too much work for this. I gave up too much. My designs had no flaws—they were perfect. They told a tale sparked feelings, showed what love is!Caroline's work?It was just a dull de
Caroline's Point of View“The winner of this competition is…”The host stops drawing out the moment until it's ready to snap, building the tension so high that it seems like everyone in the ballroom is holding their breath together. The suspense is heavy, overwhelming, with nervous energy buzzing through the room.I hear clothes rustling as people move in their chairs, glasses tinkling far off, and guests talking to each other. Every person here waits, braces themselves, their eyes glued to the stage.My heart beats so loud it drowns out all other sounds.I grip the delicate stem of my champagne glass with stiff fingers, my knuckles turning white from the pressure. My body stays rigid caught between anticipation and doubt.This is it.This is the moment that changes everything.Across the room, my gaze briefly flickers to Dolly. She remains motionless. Her frame seems tense almost frozen, her polished nails sinking into the tablecloth. Her eyes sharp and vigilant, stay fixed on the ho
Dolly’s Point of ViewI can’t believe it.Even after all these years, there are still people so blind, so utterly clueless, that they still call her Mrs. Wayne.And the worst part?Knoxx doesn’t correct them.Not a single word. Not even a flicker of disagreement. He just stands there, letting them believe it, as if she still holds that title.As if she still matters.My fingers tighten around my champagne glass, the delicate stem pressing into my palm like a warning. Steady yourself, Dolly. Don’t let them see.But inside, I’m seething.I remember back in the United States, when people would mistakenly call me Mrs. Wayne. It happened more times than I could count. At dinners, in business meetings, even at charity events where we were seen together as a family.And every time, Knoxx would shake his head, his voice cool and firm as he corrected them.“We’re not married,” he’d say, almost indifferent. “She still has her own name.”That moment replays in my mind like a slap across the face
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe cheers for the third-place winner quiet down to a low buzz mixing with the crowd's chatter and the sound of glasses tapping. The young woman on stage gives a small bow, her face red as she grips her award , afraid it might fall from her hands.I observe her noticing how her eyes jump around and how she keeps moving her feet as if she's still in disbelief about what's happening.She’s young. Maybe early twenties. Her design was good—not groundbreaking, not extraordinary—but there was potential. A lot of potential.A small pang of nostalgia grips me. I remember what it felt like to be her. To be young, to be filled with ambition, to want so badly to make a name for yourself in an industry that only respects experience. I know that hunger. I was that hunger.I exhale slowly, lifting my glass slightly in her direction before taking a sip.“She’s got talent,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. “Just needs experience.”Beside me, Penelope hums, tilting h
Caroline's Point of ViewThe museum buzzes with anticipation, an undercurrent of energy that I can feel thrumming in my bones. Voices blend into a low hum, whispers rippling through the crowd as people shift, adjusting their positions for a better view of the stage. Some reporters are already clutching their notepads and adjusting their cameras, eager to capture the final moments of the competition.But my focus isn’t on them.Because across the room, in the farthest corner, stands Adrian.And he’s holding Liam’s hand.My breath catches in my throat.Liam, small and fidgeting with barely contained excitement, is tugging slightly at Adrian’s arm, his little mouth moving quickly—probably asking questions about what’s happening. Adrian listens, nodding in that calm, patient way of his, but his eyes flick up.To me.Then, as if making a silent decision, Adrian bends down and effortlessly lifts Liam onto his shoulders.I inhale sharply, my fingers curling slightly against my dress.It’s su
Caroline’s Point of ViewDolly’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard—grating and sickly sweet.“Of course, that would be me.”She steps into view like she owns the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor with a deliberate kind of grace. Fake grace. The kind that screams ‘look at me, I belong here,’ when in reality, she’s always been a second choice, a shadow chasing after something that was never meant to be hers.Her eyes shine with triumph, but I see past the glittering facade. It’s not confidence. It’s desperation. A hunger to prove—to herself, to me, to everyone—that she has won. That she has him.And yet, the way she moves, the way she clings, it’s all too telling.She boldly slips her arm through Knoxx’s, her fingers curling around his bicep like she’s afraid he’ll slip away if she doesn’t hold on tight enough. And maybe, deep down, she knows the truth.That he isn’t hers. Not really. Not fully.But that doesn’t stop her.Her touch is deliberate, a statement. A patheti
Caroline's Point of ViewKnoxx holds my arm tight—steady, unmoving—but not rough. I feel no pain or force yet his grip weighs on me like a heavy blanket. I want to pull away, to put some distance between us, but my throbbing ankle reminds me how weak I am right now. The last thing I need is to create a fuss during check-in with him around.His mere presence feels like it's crushing me pushing me to react. But I refuse to give him that satisfaction."Why are you running away after seeing me?" His voice stays quiet but cuts like a knife. Something in it I can't figure out makes my heart skip even though I try to ignore him.I tense up looking ahead. "I wasn't running."His hand doesn't squeeze tighter, but his fingers move a bit, like he's testing how true my words are. His eyes scan me sizing me up."Really?" He sounds doubtful almost like he finds