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
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
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 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 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
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 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
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit there, frozen, still reeling from the words that left Knoxx’s mouth just moments ago.“Didn’t you marry me for the money?”The question loops in my mind like a broken record, leaving behind a sting I can’t shake. Did Knoxx always think that? That I only wanted his wealth? That I had trapped him in this marriage? The weight of the accusation presses down on me, suffocating in its cruelty."Is that really what you believe?" I ask quietly, my voice barely audible as I look at him. "That I married you for the money? That I forced you into this?"Knoxx's expression is unreadable, the same cold mask he always wears, but there's a flicker in his eyes—something dark, something cruel. He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he picks up my half-finished glass of wine from the table and takes a slow sip. The silence stretches between us, heavy and unbearable.“You don’t love me,” he finally says, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink that echoes in the qui
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
Dolly’s Point of ViewThe moment my phone screen lights up with his name, my entire body tenses, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe.I blink, my fingers frozen in place, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs that I swear I can hear it echoing in my ears.Knoxx is calling me.It takes a full moment for the reality of it to sink in, and when it does, I feel a shiver of excitement rush down my spine. It’s been so long since I’ve heard from him, so long since he’s willingly reached out first. Every time I’ve called him before, every time I’ve tried to talk to him, he’s either ignored me or given me curt, clipped responses that held no warmth, no softness, nothing for me to hold onto.But this time… this time, it’s different.My heart clenches in my chest, my stomach twisting in anticipation as I swipe my thumb across the screen, pressing the phone to my ear as quickly as I can. But even as I do, I force myself to take a breath, to steady my voice, to not sound too e
Knoxx’s Point of ViewMom.The word rings in my ears, over and over, like a slow-motion explosion. A single syllable, yet it feels like a gunshot straight to my chest.I freeze. My breath turns shallow, my body locking up as my mind scrambles to process what I just heard. I must have misheard. I had to have misheard.Slowly—almost as if I’m afraid of what I’ll see—I turn my head.And then I see them.Caroline, standing tall, her hand loosely clasping Liam’s, her expression unreadable. The boy is pressed close to her side, his bright, innocent eyes looking up at me. Unaware. Unbothered.Like he belongs there.Like he’s hers.My entire body goes rigid.Liam called her Mom.Liam—Adrian’s son—called my wife—no, my ex-wife—Mom.The world tilts violently beneath my feet, my pulse hammering in my skull.“What,” I rasp, my voice barely recognizable. “What the hell did you just say?”Liam blinks up at me, confused, but Caroline doesn’t react.She doesn’t flinch.She doesn’t rush to explain.Sh
Caroline’s Point of View"Mom?"The word slices through the air, sharp, disbelieving.My entire body goes still.That voice.A voice I know too well. One that used to whisper my name in the dark, one that used to own every part of me. A voice that once had the power to make my heart race with just a single word.But now, it chills me.Slowly, I turn, my fingers tightening around Liam’s smaller hand as if bracing myself for what’s to come.Knoxx stands a few feet away, his expression unreadable—but his eyes, those piercing, calculating eyes, burn with something raw. Something unsettled. Something I don’t want to name.He isn’t looking at me.Not really.His gaze flickers between me and Liam, his brows furrowing, his lips parting slightly, as if struggling to process what he just heard."Why would Adrian’s child call you ‘Mom’?"His voice is rough, almost hoarse, like the question is physically painful to ask.Liam tugs on my hand, shifting slightly beside me, his small fingers curling