Caroline’s POV
The room is full of eyes.
It’s supposed to be a press conference for the unveiling of Wayne Corp’s new charity initiative—a last-ditch effort to fix their public image after weeks of bad PR. A crowd of reporters, employees, and stakeholders have filled the space, some with notepads, others with phones raised, waiting for their headline.
I didn’t come to be polite. I didn’t come to play fair.
I came for this moment.
I stand off to the side, near the back, watching the stage with my arms crossed. I wasn’t invited, obviously. But I didn’t need an invitation. I have something better. Truth.
Up front, Dolly Reid takes the microphone.
She looks immaculate. Curled hair, fake lashes, flawless skin. Her bump is bigger now, and she places a dramatic hand on it like she’s the Virgin Mary preparing for martyrdom.
I know that look. She’s about to cry.
“B
Caroline’s Point of ViewIt’s almost midnight by the time I step outside.The air is cold, but I welcome it. After the day I’ve had—the press conference, Dolly’s performance, the recording—I need a second to breathe. My head’s still buzzing from the adrenaline. My hand still feels tight around the phone, even though I put it away hours ago.I step into the empty parking lot behind the building. Adrian’s inside talking with the last few reporters. I told him I needed a moment alone.Now I’m regretting that.I hear the sound before I see him. Shoes scraping against pavement. Heavy steps.I turn slowly.Knoxx.He’s standing just a few feet away, in the shadows near a lamppost, his hands in his coat pockets. His tie is loose, jacket wrinkled. There’s something off in his posture—tense, like a man clinging to what little pride he has left.“You wait
Caroline’s Point of ViewBy the time I make it to the office, my head’s still spinning from last night.I didn’t expect to sleep well, and I didn’t. Not because of Knoxx—he’s finally out of my system—but because of everything I said, everything I finally let go of. There’s a strange kind of peace in knowing you’ve drawn a line and meant it.It still feels new.I’m halfway through sorting orders when I hear the click of shoes approaching. I look up just in time to see Alessandro leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, grin already tugging at his mouth.“There she is,” he says. “La mia bella designer.”I raise a brow. “It’s nine in the morning.”He shrugs. “Beauty deserves a greeting, even at ungodly hours.”I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “Do you ever turn it off?”He steps inside, the
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe wine goes down smoother than I expect.It’s the third glass, maybe the fourth—I’ve stopped counting. I know I shouldn’t drink this much on a weekday, especially after such a long meeting, but the private dinner room is warm, the lighting is soft, and Adrian’s sitting across from me in a dark dress shirt with the top two buttons undone like he doesn’t know what it’s doing to me.He probably does. He’s too aware of everything.The restaurant is quiet now. Our supplier left an hour ago, and somehow we’re still here, lingering over half-empty glasses and the remnants of dessert. I should get up. I should say goodnight, thank him for being the calm, professional man he always is. But I don’t. I just keep looking at him.And he keeps looking right back.I set my glass down. My fingers brush against the stem a second too long."You always look like
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe shop is unusually quiet this morning.No tinkling bell from customers entering. No chatter from Penelope rearranging the displays. Just the soft whirr of the heater and the gentle clinks of tools on glass.My eyes aren’t on the silver chain I’ve been trying to polish for the last thirty minutes. They’re not even on the sketchpad beside me, where a new pendant design waits to be finished.They’re on him.Adrian.He’s sitting at the far end of the worktable, inspecting a few invoices I’d asked for help with—focused, calm, and... completely unaffected.He flips through the pages like it’s the most natural thing in the world, brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed into a firm line. His jaw flexes every time something catches his attention. I know that look. I’ve seen it before. But today—today it’s different.He hasn’t looked a
Caroline’s Point of View“Caroline, are you really going to keep staring at the same three dresses?” Penelope stands behind me, arms crossed as I flip through my closet for what feels like the hundredth time.“I’m not used to this,” I murmur, fingers grazing a pale blue silk dress. “It’s been… years.”“You’ve gone to galas looking like a queen. You’ve pitched to billion-dollar investors without blinking. And now you’re freaking out over one date?” She raises an eyebrow and snatches the blue dress from the rack. “Wear this.”I look at it, then at her. “Is it too much?”“No. He asked you out. It’s your first real date in—God knows how long. And Adrian’s not the type to judge. He’ll be looking at your face the whole time anyway.”My chest tightens. “That’s what scares me.”Penelope softens. “You like him.”“I do,” I whisper, barely admitting it to myself. “And it’s not just gratitude.”“I know.” She hands me a pair of earrings. “Now sit, I’ll do your makeup.”Adrian is waiting just outsi
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the night. The curtains shift gently with the breeze slipping through the slightly cracked window. I’m curled under my blanket, drowsy but content. My cheeks are still warm from the wine Adrian and I shared earlier. He walked me home, held my hand the whole way. When I tried to pull him into something more, he kissed my forehead instead and told me I deserved more.God. The man is too kind. Too patient.I roll over and glance at the clock. It’s 1:47 a.m.I should sleep, but my heart's still fluttering from that soft look in his eyes when he said goodbye.And then—A sound. A soft creak.I freeze.At first, I think I imagined it. But then it comes again. Louder this time. The floorboard in the hallway. I know that sound.I sit up slowly, heart racing. My hands instinctively reach for my phone on the nightstand. My breath catches.Penelope has Liam tonight. They planned a little movie night at her place. I thought I’d
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the night. The curtains shift gently with the breeze slipping through the slightly cracked window. I’m curled under my blanket, drowsy but content. My cheeks are still warm from the wine Adrian and I shared earlier. He walked me home, held my hand the whole way. When I tried to pull him into something more, he kissed my forehead instead and told me I deserved more.God. The man is too kind. Too patient.I roll over and glance at the clock. 1:47 a.m.I should sleep, but my heart’s still fluttering from that soft look in his eyes when he said goodbye. The way his thumb brushed my knuckles. The way he hesitated before walking away, like he didn’t want to.And then—A sound. A soft creak.I freeze.At first, I think I imagined it. But then it comes again. Louder this time.The floor marbles in the hallway. I know that sound.My entire body goes rigid. I sit up slowly, heart racing so loud it drowns out everything else.
Adrian’s Point of ViewI can’t feel my legs as I stand in the middle of Caroline’s bedroom, staring at the chaos left behind. Her phone is still on the floor, screen cracked. Her scent lingers faintly in the air. Lavender and something sweet. Her wine glass is still in the sink. The blankets are twisted, half hanging off the bed. The small signs that she was just here. Alive. Safe. Real.And now she’s gone.I report her missing to the police. My voice shakes, but I keep it together long enough to give them every detail I know. They dispatch officers and promise to send someone over right away. I don’t wait for them to show. I head back to the living room and pace. My phone buzzes with notifications—calls I made, texts I sent, all unanswered.I call Penelope.She picks up, groggy. “Adrian? What’s wrong?”“Is Liam with you?”“Yes, of course. He’s asleep. Why?”“Don’t let him out of your sight,” I say tightly. “Caroline’s gone. Someone took her.”Penelope gasps. “What? Are you sure—”“I
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit on the floor of my bedroom with my phone in my hand and a heavy ache in my chest. The house is quiet. The twins are with Adrian in the kitchen, drawing on the table with their markers. I told him I needed a few minutes alone. He didn’t ask why—just kissed my cheek and said he’d keep them busy.I stare down at my screen, at the endless thread of messages.Knoxx: I’ll be late tonight. Again.Knoxx: She’s just here for the baby, Caroline. Don’t make a big deal out of it.Knoxx: I’m tired. Can we not do this tonight?Knoxx: I didn’t mean it like that.Knoxx: You’re overthinking. Like always.Each one feels like a scratch on glass. Small, sharp, building toward something that eventually shattered me.I scroll up, past the excuses, past the cold replies, past the silence.Until I reach the older ones.Knoxx: Can’t sto
Caroline's Point of ViewI don’t want to care.But I do.Even after everything. Even after the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation—I still feel that tightening in my chest, that flicker of something I wish I could suffocate. It's not love. It’s not hope. It’s not even hate. It’s a stubborn wound that hasn’t closed properly.The front door creaks. I know the rhythm of those steps. Penelope.I stay where I am, on the couch, a notebook open on my lap. I haven’t written anything meaningful in it all day. Just scribbles. Doodles. Adrian’s name in cursive, printed, tiny in the margins like some foolish girl trying to anchor herself in something good.“You’re not watching the news?” Penelope’s voice is soft, but it cuts through the silence anyway.I look up. Her face says everything before her words do—tense, unreadable.“No,” I say, sharper tha
Knoxx’s Point of ViewIt’s too quiet in the house.I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in my daughter’s room—our daughter’s room—watching her sleep. Eight years old, but still small in ways that remind me how fragile everything is. She clutches the worn-out stuffed bear Dolly gave her on her third birthday. The same one she wouldn't let go of even when she had the flu and cried through the night.I’ve been checking on her more often. Staying longer than I need to. Not because she asks—she rarely does—but because I don’t know what else to do with myself anymore.“Hey, sweetheart,” I whisper, brushing a loose curl from her forehead. “It’s just you and me now.”She doesn’t stir. Just turns her face toward the wall.I lean back against the bedpost, hands tangled together, eyes fixed on the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner. I should feel
Caroline's Point of ViewThe air still smells like antiseptic and cold metal, but somehow, it feels warmer today. Maybe it’s because he’s sitting up now. Alive. Awake. Breathing.Adrian’s hoodie is half-zipped as he moves slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid to tear open anything that’s finally starting to heal. The nurses said he’s stable enough to go home—as long as someone stays with him.I didn’t hesitate.“I’ll take him,” I told them.Because there’s nowhere else he belongs. Not right now.I’m standing by his bed, arms crossed like a wall between myself and all the things I’m feeling. He looks up at me as he adjusts the hoodie. His movements are still weak, but steadier than they were days ago.“You sure you’re okay to leave?” I ask f
Knoxx's Point of ViewThe bottle is half-empty, and the silence in my apartment is too loud. I sit on the couch, staring at nothing. The TV is off. My phone is face down. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t slept much either, unless you count the few hours I passed out on the bathroom floor last night after another round of drinking.I don't know how many nights it's been like this now.I pick up the bottle again. My hand shakes slightly, and I pretend not to notice.She doesn’t love me.That thought—raw, sharp—keeps cutting deeper every time it returns. I tell myself I’m angry. I tell myself she was manipulated. I tell myself it was Adrian’s fault.But I know the truth.She doesn’t love me.Not anymore. Maybe she never really did. Maybe she just wanted to believe I could be someone worth loving.I failed her.“Where the hell did I go wrong?” I mutter to no one.I slam the bottle down too hard on the table, and it cracks slightly near the base. I glare at it like it's to blame.The door swings
Caroline's Point of ViewI don’t expect to find them like this.I’m coming back from the nurse’s station with a warm cup of tea in hand—Adrian’s favorite blend—when I turn the corner and freeze at the doorway to his hospital room.The lights are dimmed. The sterile white of the walls doesn’t bother me today, not when I see the softest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on: Liam sitting beside Adrian in the reclining chair, a picture book opened between them. Adrian’s voice is quiet but clear, reading out loud with calm cadence, pausing for Liam to fill in the next word.Liam’s fingers trace the illustrations. He’s completely focused, not wiggling or distracted the way he usually is.I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. I don’t want to break the moment.“‘And the little fox curled up next to his mama…’” Adrian says gently. “You know the next part?”Liam nods eagerly. “‘Because he was home. Safe and warm.’”“Yeah,” Adrian whispers. “Exactly.”My chest tightens.The paper cup in my hand feels hot.
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?”