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’s Point of ViewKnoxx strides into the office, and the hum of conversation comes to an abrupt halt. His presence alone commands attention, and the energy in the room shifts as if everyone can feel it. Eyes dart toward me, wide with surprise, then back to him. It's not every day the King himself walks into my space unannounced, especially when we’ve been avoiding each other for weeks. My coworkers exchange nervous glances, whispering under their breaths, clearly unsettled by his sudden appearance.I sit up straighter, determined to keep my expression neutral, even as I feel a prickle of anxiety creep up my spine. My pulse quickens, and I grip the edge of my desk just a little tighter. This is the last thing I need right now—another confrontation with Knoxx. Especially here, where everyone’s watching.Knoxx doesn’t bother acknowledging the stares or the whispers. His sharp, focused gaze is locked on me, and with every step he takes, the air seems to thicken. His broad shoulders
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit across from the detective in the cold, gray-walled interrogation room, the recorder lying on the table between us. My fingers tremble slightly as I slide the flash drive across the smooth surface. I’ve played this moment in my head all night—how I’d hand over the truth, how I’d finally clear my name.“This is it,” I say, voice low but steady. “Everything she confessed. It’s all there.”Detective Ramirez picks up the drive, giving me a long, assessing look. “You’re sure she wasn’t coerced? No threats?”I meet his gaze. “She talked on her own. I just listened.”He nods slowly, motioning for the officer behind the mirror to take it for processing. My stomach tightens as the door clicks shut again. The moment feels heavier than I imagined.“She admitted to the theft of your designs, the drugging incident, and the incident involving the late Mr. Wayne?” he asks.“Yes,” I say. “She confessed to all of it. She also named someone else. A man. I don’t know his fu
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe door clicks open, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.The surgeon steps inside, still wearing his scrubs. His gloves are off, and his face is tight, but it’s not the kind of tight that screams bad news. It’s calm. Measured.I shoot to my feet.“Is he—?” I choke on the rest of the sentence. My legs feel shaky. I grip the back of the plastic chair for balance.“He’s alive,” the doctor says.I drop into the chair.Alive.My vision blurs, and I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste salt. I cover my mouth, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Alive.“He lost a lot of blood,” the doctor continues, his tone clinical, but kind. “The stab wound punctured a lung, but we were able to stop the bleeding. He’s stable now. He’ll need rest. Weeks of it. But he’s going to recover.”I nod furiously, even though I can barely hear him over the pounding in my chest.“Can I see him?”He nods. “We’ll move him to recovery in a few minutes. He’s still unconscious, but
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe world feels like it’s moving in slow motion. The fear in my chest, the frantic beat of my heart, it’s all consuming, but nothing hits harder than the weight of the doctor’s words.“Ma’am, you can’t sign. You’re not family.”I blink, struggling to grasp the meaning. Not family? I’m not family. The thought catches in my throat. I don’t have the right to make decisions. Not for Adrian. Not in this moment when it matters the most.I try to speak, my voice weak and trembling. “But... I—” My words break off, choked by the panic rising in my chest. I need to help him. But without permission, there’s nothing I can do.The doctor’s gaze softens slightly, his eyes full of pity. “I’m sorry, but we need someone with legal authority to make this call.”The cold, sterile air of the room presses down on me, suffocat
Caroline’s Point of ViewI don’t remember how I got to the hospital. The world outside is a blur, spinning too fast, but all I can think about is Adrian, still lying in that stretcher.My hands are trembling, so badly I can barely grip the sides of the ambulance. My mind is clouded with panic, with the image of his pale face, the blood staining his shirt, and his faint smile before he passed out.Don’t leave me, Adrian. The thought keeps repeating in my head, like a chant I can’t escape from.I try to steady myself, to breathe. “Adrian, please…” I whisper under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. “Stay with me.”The ambulance doors slam open, and everything happens so fast. They’re pulling him out of the back, and I scramble out of the vehicle, not caring about anything but getting to him.I try to follow, but a nurse blocks my way, holding up a hand. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we can’t let you in right now.”“I have to be with him,” I plead, my voice cracking, tears already t
Caroline’s Point of ViewI don’t know how long I’ve been in here.The cold, stale air presses against my skin. It clings to me like a second layer, suffocating and oppressive. My mouth is dry again, and the back of my throat feels like I’ve swallowed sandpaper. My wrists are sore from the ropes, and my shoulders are tense, locked in place. My mind races through a thousand thoughts, but nothing settles long enough to make sense.Please, God. Please let Adrian find me.I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the noise of the warehouse, the eerily quiet space that feels like a tomb. The only thing that keeps me grounded is the tiny device in my hand, the recording still running—everything Dolly’s said, everything she’s done, all captured in that one small, hidden gadget. It’s not enough to calm my nerves, though. What good is it if I die here?A part of me doesn’t want to think about that. I don’t want to imagine that this could be it.Then—A sound—a bang.I jerk upright in the chai
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe morning starts with the sound of metal clanging against the concrete floor.I’m still tied to this damn chair. My wrists are raw from the rope, my back aches, and I haven’t had water since last night. My throat is dry, lips cracked. My stomach clenches painfully, and I swear I could cry if I had anything left in me.The door screeches open.Two men step in—same ones from last night. One carries a tray, the other just sneers.“Finally,” I rasp, blinking against the dim light. “Water?”The one with the tray grins and sets it down just out of reach. There’s a small sandwich and a bottle of water. My stomach lurches at the sight of it.“Oops,” the guy says, kicking the tray a little further away with his boot. “Almost forgot. You’ve gotta earn your meals.”“What the hell does that mean?” My voice cracks. “I haven’t done anything.”“You’ve done plenty,” the other one mutters. “Don’t play innocent.”I glare at him, holding back the fury rising in my chest. “You
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe air is damp and cold. My skin sticks to the back of the chair I’m tied to, my wrists aching where the ropes cut into them. There’s a dull throb at the base of my skull—probably from being knocked out—but it’s nothing compared to the twist of fear in my chest.I don’t know how long I’ve been here. There are no windows in the warehouse, just faint light from a single flickering bulb above me. I keep waiting for someone to come in. Waiting for anything—another voice, footsteps, even a cough.But it’s been hours. Or maybe minutes. I can’t tell anymore.I test the ropes again. They’re tight. No give. My ankles are bound too, and the chair creaks every time I shift.Liam.The thought of my son rushes in like a knife. What if I never see him again? What if he wakes up tomorrow and I’m not there? What if no one tells him what happened? What if he grows up thinking I abandoned him?I breathe through my nose, trying to stay calm. If I break down now, I won’t think s
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 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.