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 ViewKnoxx stands up straight, rubbing the back of his neck. “Caroline, I need some time to think about this.”I nod, crossing my arms. “I understand. You can take until the final round of the competition. But I want you to be clear about what I’m asking.”“Right. I get it.” He looks away, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “It’s a lot to process. I’ll think about it. Just give me some time.”“Time is all I can give you.” I take a deep breath, then step up. “I’ll leave you to it.”With that, I step out of his office, leaving him alone with his thoughts.When I get home, I check my phone out of habit. Almost immediately, I see it—the flood of notifications from social media, articles, and comments. My heart sinks as I notice Dolly’s name is trending again. Curious, I click on one of the links to see what the latest fuss is about.There it is—a flashy PR release with Dolly front and center, glowing in front of the cameras like she owns the spotlight. The headline scr
Caroline’s Point of ViewWhen I see Lisa standing at my office door, her face is flushed with guilt and worry. She’s clutching her phone tightly in her hand, eyes darting around like she’s looking for the right words to say.“Caroline,” she begins, her voice shaky. “I saw the PR release.”I already know what she’s talking about. The flashy article showcasing Dolly as the "most beautiful and talented jewelry designer." The way they paint her as some kind of creative genius, a rising star in the industry. And the photos—Dolly front and center, wearing the ruby necklace that Knoxx had auctioned for me.Lisa steps inside, her eyes filled with guilt. “I—I went to Dolly,” she stammers. “I tried to get your design back. I couldn’t just stand by and let her take credit for your work.” Her hands are trembling now. “But she fired me, Caroline. She threw me out without even listening.”For a moment, I can’t speak. My chest tightens with anger, but not at Lisa. No, my frustration is entirely rese
Dolly’s Point of ViewI sit back in my chair, scrolling through the comments on my latest PR post, feeling a rush of satisfaction. They’re calling me “the most beautiful and talented jewelry designer,” “the perfect match” for Knoxx. I see comment after comment about how Knoxx and I look great together, how we make such a powerful couple. I smile to myself, imagining how perfect my life will be once all of this falls into place. Each comment strokes my ego, making me feel like I’m exactly where I deserve to be.I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, replaying the last few months in my mind. Everything has been leading up to this moment. But it wasn’t always like this. There was a time when I almost lost it all.I had Knoxx wrapped around my finger, but back then, it wasn’t enough. I craved more. More money, more prestige. Knoxx was successful, yes, but there was another man. I met an old, rich, charming, powerful man—he had promised me the world. So, I left everything behind to be
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe stack of divorce papers stares at me from across the room. Every time I look at it, I feel the weight pressing down on my chest. It should be simple. Just sign my name, walk away, and finally free myself from the mess of being Mrs. Wayne. I’ve already made up my mind not to take a single penny from Knoxx or his family—not that I want anything from them.But it isn’t that simple.I’ve been telling myself for weeks that I’m ready to move on. That I deserve better. That I’ve had enough of Knoxx’s lies, his betrayals, and the toxic web his family has spun around me. And yet, here I am, frozen in place, unable to sign those damn papers.Knoxx sits on the opposite side of the room, his face unreadable as he scrolls through his phone. He’s been like this since I brought up the divorce—calm, detached, and frustratingly silent. It’s like he’s waiting for me to make the first move, to give up and walk away without forcing him to face any consequences.I glance at th
Caroline’s Point of View“If you’re so desperate to end thismarriage,” Knoxx says, his voice steady but with a faint edge of challenge,“then sell the beach house.”The words hit me like a slap. I freeze,feeling my chest tighten with something I can’t quite describe—anger,frustration, and an ache that cuts deep. Sell the beach house? The very thoughtof it feels like a betrayal to everything we once were. That house wasn’t justa place; it was where I had believed, even for a brief moment, that we could behappy.But now, standing here, I know that Knoxxdoesn’t understand what it means to me. But I can’t just walk away from it. Ican’t make it that easy.I swallow hard, my fingers gripping theedge of the table as I force myself to look at him. “I’m not selling it,” Isay, my voice quieter than I mean it to be. But I stand by it. That house isthe last piece of something real, something I’m not ready to give up.Knoxx’s expression shifts just slightly,amusement flickering in his
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe morning sunlight filters through thecar window as we approach the beach house. My chest tightens with anticipation,the waves of nostalgia already lapping at my thoughts. This house held so many memories—momentsI had carefully buried but now seem intent on resurfacing.As Knoxx parks the car, I take in thefamiliar sight of the house. Its pale blue shutters and wraparound porch lookjust as they did when we first arrived here after our wedding. The salty breezecarries the faint cries of seagulls, and the rhythmic sound of the wavescrashing against the shore fills the silence between us.Knoxx steps out of the car and moves to thetrunk to retrieve our bags. I stay seated for a moment, letting the memorieswash over me. Our honeymoon. I thought it would be the start of everythingperfect between us. Back then, I believed this house symbolized a dream—apromise of the life we would build together.“Caroline,” Knoxx calls gently, pulling meout of my thou
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe morning sunlight streams through the large windows of the beach house, painting the room in warm gold. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, the soft breeze from the ocean brushing against my skin. Knoxx stands across from me, his gaze intent. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that I haven’t seen before, and it disarms me just enough to let him speak.“Caroline,” he begins, his voice steady but filled with an undertone of desperation. “Before we go any further, I need to ask for something… something I know I don’t deserve.”I cross my arms, my guard firmly in place despite the lingering warmth of our shared memories from the day before. “What is it, Knoxx?”He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “One last chance.”I blink, stunned. “What?”He steps closer, closing the distance between us, but I don’t move. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat like a warning bell.“I know I’ve made mistakes—more than I can count,” he says, his voice softening.
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.