Caroline’s Point of View
“Girl, let me take you somewhere nice,” Penelope, my best friend, says, her voice wrapping around me like a warm hug. She’s leaning against her sleek new sports car, a knowing smile playing on her lips, as if she can see through the mask I’m trying so hard to keep up.
I step out of the house, trying to leave the weight of everything behind me, but the hurt sticks. Penelope’s eyes catch on something near the front lawn, and she bends down to pick it up.
“What’s this?” she asks, curiosity lacing her voice as she holds up a delicate black box, gold lettering gleaming in the fading evening light.
My stomach churns. I know exactly what that box is. The jewelry box—the same kind Knoxx used when he bought Dolly that ruby necklace at the auction. I take it from Penelope, my hands shaking as I pop it open. Inside are two diamond earrings, beautiful but cold. They shine, but not for me.
I snap the box shut, my chest tightening.
“They were probably for Dolly,” I mutter, my voice thick with disgust. I toss the box into the trash bin near the door, the thud sounding heavier than it should.
Penelope arches an eyebrow but doesn’t press. She knows me too well to ask questions I’m not ready to answer. Instead, she gestures to her car, throwing me a wink. “Come on. Let’s forget about that bastard for a while.”
We drive in silence, the city lights passing by like streaks of color, a blur that reflects my racing thoughts. Each neon sign and glimmering window feels like a fleeting moment, a reminder of the life I once thought I had under control.
Penelope and I pull up to our usual escape—my VIP suite at Hermes. As the car doors swing open, the familiar smell of leather and perfume greets us, wrapping around me like a luxurious embrace. It almost feels like stepping into another world—a world where everything is perfect, untouched by the chaos of my life.
Penelope hands me a glass of champagne, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Retail therapy, babe. The only cure for a broken heart.”
I manage a smile, but it’s thin, hollow. This place, with its rich fabrics and heavy price tags, used to offer me comfort. I’d walk through the beautifully curated displays, my heart swelling at the thought of indulging in a new piece of exquisite jewelry or a designer handbag. The way the staff treats me like royalty once felt empowering.
Penelope twirls in front of a mirror, the silk dress she’s wearing hugging her figure like a second skin. She beams, her joy infectious. “This is the life, Caroline. You, here, surrounded by all this luxury—this is who you are. Why are you hiding it from Knoxx?”
Her words catch me off guard, and I stop mid-sip, the bubbly drink suddenly feeling heavy in my hand. I set the glass down, brushing my fingers over a crocodile-skin bag that I don’t even want. “I’m not hiding anything,” I reply quietly, though the conviction in my voice wavers. “He just doesn’t care enough to see it.”
Penelope’s carefree expression fades, replaced by a look of genuine concern. She sits beside me, her warmth radiating as she searches my face for answers. “Why do you stay with him? Why are you putting yourself through this?”
I stare into my glass, watching the bubbles dance as memories flood my mind. I remember how cold Knoxx’s eyes were tonight, how he looked at me like I was nothing more than an inconvenience. “Three years, Penelope. Three years of trying to make it work, and he still doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even see me. I’ve given him everything, and all he does is push me away.”
Penelope leans closer, her voice softening. “You deserve so much more than this, Caroline. You’re a powerful woman—this place is proof of that. Why let him dim your light?”
Her encouragement stirs something within me, but I’m still trapped in a web of doubt. I take a deep breath. “I thought he would change. I thought love could make him see me.”
Penelope shakes her head, her eyes fierce. “Love shouldn’t be a battle. You shouldn’t have to fight for someone to recognize your worth.”
I nod, but the knot in my stomach tightens. The shadows of my reality loom large, even amid this opulence. I let out a shaky breath, trying to hold it together. “He accused me of cheating. Of all things, cheating.”
Penelope’s mouth falls open. “You? With who?”
“He saw some photos of me having dinner… with my dad,” I say, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. “He didn’t ask. He just... assumed. Thought I was with some other man. A silver-haired man, no less. It’s ridiculous.”
Penelope clenches her fists, anger flashing in her eyes. “He’s out of his mind. How can he not see how devoted you’ve been? How much you’ve sacrificed?”
“And to make it worse... Dolly’s back,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “She’s always been in the background, but now she’s... she’s here. Again.”
Penelope’s face darkens. “That conniving bitch. She’s never really left, has she? Always lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.” She pauses, then looks at me, her voice softening. “Why are you still holding on to him, Caroline? He doesn’t deserve you.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Before I can find the words, my phone buzzes on the table, pulling my attention. My heart sinks as I glance at the screen.
It’s from Dolly.
My chest tightens as I unlock the phone, dread pooling in my stomach. The message feels like a punch to the gut. For a second, everything stops. My hand shakes as I stare at the text, my mind struggling to make sense of the words.
[I’m pregnant with Knoxx’s child. We need to talk.]— Dolly.
Adrian's Point of ViewThe package arrives at my penthouse at midnight, delivered by a courier who refuses to meet my eyes. No return address. No explanation. Just a manila envelope with my name written in elegant script.Inside is a photocopy of pages from a diary. My mother's handwriting, unmistakable after all these years. The ink is faded, the paper yellowed with age, but the words are crystal clear.[Karen came to visit again today. She brought those awful herbal teas...]I read the first few lines twice before the meaning hits me. Then I read them again, and again, my hands beginning to shake as the full scope of what I'm seeing becomes clear.My mother wasn't sick.She was murdered.By Karen Wayne. Knoxx's mother.The woman who sat at our dinner table. Who smiled at me with false kindness. Who brought tea and s
Knoxx's Point of ViewThe knock at the door comes at eight-thirty in the evening, just as Caroline is finishing the dishes from our perfect day. Liam is already asleep, exhausted from pirate adventures and sugar crashes, and I'm in the living room setting up the new goldfish tank we somehow acquired."I'll get it," I call, but something stops me cold when I check the security monitor.Standing on the other side of the door, looking exactly as dignified as I remember despite the years that have passed, is Mason Hartwell. The Wayne family butler who helped raise Adrian and me. The man who disappeared without a word right after my father's funeral, saying he couldn't bear to work for either of us."Knoxx? Who is it?" Caroline calls from the kitchen.I can't answer immediately. Just stare at the screen like I'm seeing a ghost."Mason," I finally manage, my voice
Caroline's Point of ViewI wake up to the smell of pancakes and the sound of laughter drifting from the kitchen.For a moment, I just lie there, eyes closed, letting the normalcy of it wash over me. No urgent phone calls. No legal documents. No crisis to manage before I've even had my first cup of coffee.Just the sound of my son giggling and Knoxx's deep voice saying something about "flipping disasters" and "architectural pancake failures."I pad to the kitchen in my pajamas and find them covered in flour. Literally covered. Liam has handprints of batter on his cheeks, and Knoxx has somehow managed to get pancake mix in his hair."What happened in here?" I ask, trying not to laugh."Daddy Knoxx tried to flip a pancake really high," Liam explains, bouncing on his toes. "But it stuck to the ceiling!"I look up. Sure enough, there's a perfe
Caroline's Point of ViewThe video of me throwing champagne at Adrian has been viewed two million times in the past twenty-four hours. #ChampagneCaroline is trending on Twitter. The society pages are calling it either "the most epic takedown in New York history" or "a disturbing display of instability," depending on which publication you read.I don't care about any of it.What I care about is the custody hearing that was mysteriously postponed "pending further review." What I care about is the fact that Adrian's lawyers haven't called to drop the charges as promised. What I care about is that my son keeps asking why everyone looks so sad."Can we do something fun today?" Liam asks, tugging on my sleeve as I scroll through my phone, looking for any news about the legal situation. "Like really fun?"I look up from the screen to find him watching me with those serious brown eyes&md
Caroline's Point of ViewThe call comes at seven in the morning, three hours before the custody hearing."Caroline," Adrian's voice through the phone is smooth as silk, casual as if we're old friends catching up. "I have a proposition for you."I'm sitting at the kitchen table in Knoxx's apartment, watching Liam eat cereal while Knoxx reviews legal documents with Elena Martinez, our lawyer. The sight of them working together—Knoxx's focused intensity, Elena's sharp efficiency—had given me hope for the first time in days.That hope evaporates the moment I hear Adrian's voice."I'm not interested in anything you have to say," I tell him, my voice low so Liam won't hear."Oh, I think you will be. Especially since it involves dropping the custody lawsuit."My heart stops. Knoxx looks up from the papers, his eyes sharp, questioning
Caroline's Point of ViewThe bail hearing was a nightmare of legal procedures and cold fluorescent lights, but somehow Knoxx's lawyer managed to get him released on a million-dollar bond. Assault charges against a philanthropist, even a fake one, carry weight in the court system.But he's free. For now.I drive through downtown with Liam buckled in the backseat, heading toward the address Knoxx texted me this morning. He said he needed to "take care of something" before we could meet to discuss our next steps. Legal strategy. Safe house arrangements. All the practical details of a life that's spiraling completely out of control.The address leads me to a part of town I don't recognize. Small shops with hand-painted signs, narrow streets lined with cars that have seen better decades. It's the kind of neighborhood where people mind their own business and ask few questions.Perfect