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's Point of ViewEvery day, I’m more determined. My fingers smudged with graphite as I trace over the delicate lines of the design. It’s almost there, but not quite perfect.The competition’s theme is “Celestial Beauty,” inspired by the stars, the universe, and everything beyond. I take a deep breath, letting the idea settle into my mind. It’s perfect. I’ve always been fascinated by astrology and the night sky, and I already have an idea for my design. My sketches are rough, but the vision is there: a necklace inspired by zodiac signs, with intricate details that represent the unique energy of each sign.My fingers move almost automatically as I sketch, adding small touches that bring the design to life. The centerpiece of the necklace will be a gemstone shaped like the zodiac constellation, surrounded by delicate silver filigree representing the stars. It’s detailed, personal, and exactly what I want it to be.I push my hair back, tuck it behind my ear, and lean in closer to
Caroline’s Point off ViewIt’s the day I’ve been preparing for, the day I hand in my final design for the competition. I’ve spent countless hours perfecting it, every line, every curve, making sure it’s flawless. My heart races with a mix of nerves and excitement as I walk into the submission office, holding my sketch folder close. This design means everything to me—it’s more than just an entry; it’s a symbol of my future, of moving on from Knoxx, from the life I’ve been trying to escape.When I reach the front desk, the woman behind the counter glances at my folder with disinterest and waves me toward the drop-off area. I place my work among the other entries and take a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over me. I’ve done my best. That’s all I can do.But as I turn to leave, a voice calls my name.“Caroline Hill?”I stop and turn around, confused. “Yes?”The woman looks down at her clipboard, her brow furrowing. “There’s an issue with your submission.”My stomach drop
Knoxx’ s Point of ViewI’m sitting in my office, staring blankly at the documents in front of me, when I hear a knock at the door. Before I can respond, it swings open, and Dolly strides in, her usual confident smile plastered on her face. I already know this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.“Knoxx,” she says, her tone dripping with sweetness, “I thought you might want to hear this from me first.”I raise an eyebrow, motioning for her to continue. “What’s going on?”Dolly sits down, crossing her legs as if she owns the place. “Your soon-to-be ex-wife—Caroline—has been causing a bit of a stir. She’s been accused of plagiarism in the competition.”Plagiarism? My mind blanks for a moment. I didn’t even know Caroline was involved in anything that could lead to an accusation like that. I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk.“What are you talking about? What competition?” I ask, my voice sharper than intended.Dolly’s smirk grows wider, like a predator closing in on its pr
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit at my desk, staring at my computer screen, the accusations still ringing in my ears. Plagiarism. They think I plagiarized Dolly’s design. The absurdity of it makes my blood boil. Everything I’ve created, every sketch, every intricate detail, came from me. I’ve poured myself into this competition, staying up late night after night, working in secret. How could anyone think I would steal someone else’s work? Especially Dolly’s.I shake my head, trying to make sense of it all. Dolly couldn’t have just come up with the exact same design by coincidence. There’s no way. But how? How did she get her hands on it?I’ve always kept my designs private, stored on my personal computer at home. I’m careful about it—ever since I started working at Knoxx’s company, I made sure to never use work hours or resources for personal projects. I didn’t want it to seem unprofessional, especially since no one here knows I’m married to him. But that also means Dolly shouldn’t have
Caroline’s Point of ViewI gather everything I need, meticulously going through each piece of evidence, making sure nothing is missed. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve managed to pull together a few critical items. The surveillance footage from the hospital where Lisa’s mother is being treated shows Dolly meeting with her. That alone is enough to raise eyebrows. Then there’s the record of Dolly transferring a suspicious amount of money to Lisa shortly after their meeting. And finally, my original design drafts—dated and time-stamped. With all of this, I can prove Dolly stole my work.But it hasn’t been a smooth process. Every step of the way, I’ve faced obstacles. Some of the footage was hard to access, and even getting records of the transactions between Lisa and Dolly required a lot of patience. At one point, I felt like giving up, but I couldn’t. Not after everything Dolly had done to me. She needed to be exposed.I was surprised when Adrian offered to help me. I hadn’t expected it. A
Caroline’s Point of ViewAs I pack up my things, ready to leave the office, I hear the unmistakable sound of heels clicking against the polished floor. I know who it is before I even look up. Dolly strides in like she owns the world—shoulders back, chin high, her every movement oozing arrogance. It’s almost amusing how much effort she puts into looking untouchable, as if no one can challenge her.“Caroline,” she says, her voice dripping with fake pleasantries, but her eyes are sharp. She’s not here for small talk. “I need to talk to you.”I sigh inwardly, setting my bag down and turning to face her. “What do you want, Dolly?”Her smile tightens, a mask barely hiding her irritation. She inhales and crosses her arms, her bag clinking, dominating the silence of the room. “I need you to drop out of the competition.”I raise an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “And why would I do that?”Her composure falters for just a second, but she quickly regains it, stepping closer, her heels clicking lou
Knoxx’s Point of ViewDolly sits across from me in my office, her eyes flaring with the same entitled look she always wears, the one that grates on my nerves. She’s been talking non-stop for the past ten minutes, her voice a constant stream of complaints, but I’ve barely heard a word. My mind is elsewhere—on other things, far more important than whatever crisis she’s manufacturing now.“Knoxx, are you even listening to me?” Her voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and demanding.I glance up at her, forcing myself to focus. “What do you want, Dolly?”She narrows her eyes at me, clearly annoyed I even need to ask. “I’m talking about Caroline. She’s suing me for plagiarism. Can you believe that? After everything I’ve done!”Her words make me pause. Last time, she claimed Caroline had stolen her designs. Now she’s telling me the opposite. A flicker of doubt surfaces, but I don’t voice it. Instead, I watch her closely. The desperation in her voice is obvious, but something about this feel
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