Knoxx’s Point of ViewI sit in the quiet of my study, the velvet box still in my hand. The edges of it are smooth and cold, and for a moment, I stare at it like it holds the answers to everything. The quiet is deafening, punctuated only by the faint crashing of the waves outside. Caroline’s words replay in my mind, sharp and relentless.“You think you can buy me off with expensive things? Do you even know what I like, Knoxx?”Her voice had trembled, not with sadness but with anger. The rawness of it cuts deeper than I want to admit.I look down at the box again. The necklace inside is flawless—gold with intricate detailing and a diamond that catches the light like a star. It had cost a small fortune, but when I saw it, I thought of Caroline. Not because she wanted it, but because it was what I knew.When Dolly and I dated all those years ago, gifts were easy. She always made it clear what she wanted. Jewelry, designer handbags, trips to Paris—her tastes were as lavish as they were obv
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit by the window, the ocean breeze whispering through the curtains, as Dolly’s voice carries through the house. Her laughter is light, cheerful, and it grates against my nerves. Every word feels like a carefully aimed dagger, and I can’t shake the irritation bubbling beneath my skin.“You know, Knoxx and I used to play hide-and-seek in that garden when we were kids,” Dolly says, her tone sweet but laced with something sharper. “He was always terrible at hiding.”I force a smile, gripping the edge of my teacup. Her words swirl in my mind, dredging up questions I wish I didn’t care about. Childhood sweethearts. That’s what they were. That’s why Karen adored her so much—why Dolly always seemed to have a claim on parts of Knoxx’s life I could never touch.Knoxx enters the room, his expression cautious. He must sense my discomfort because he approaches slowly, his voice softer than usual. “Caroline, can we talk for a minute?”I set the cup down, followed him out
Knoxx’s Point of View“What’s the plan, boss?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.Caroline smirks, crossing her arms. “The plan is to make that second bedroom livable since someone is monopolizing the master suite.”I raise my hands in a mock surrender. “Point taken. Lead the way.”She rolls her eyes at my sarcasm, but there’s a flicker of amusement on her face. I follow her through the aisles of the upscale furniture store, watching as she examines each piece of décor with a thoughtful gaze. She’s meticulous, pausing at every fabric and color swatch, as though each decision holds the weight of the world.“This one,” she says firmly, stopping in front of a navy-blue sectional sofa. Her eyes light up as she gestures toward it.I lean in, pretending to scrutinize it. “It’s nice, but will it fit in the room?”She narrows her eyes at me. “Knoxx, the measurements are right there. Don’t act like you’re clueless.”Caught, I laugh, holding up my hands. “Fine. We’ll get it. You’re the expert
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe buzz of the store fills the air, faint murmurs of other shoppers blending with the soft classical music playing overhead. Knoxx walks beside me, pushing the cart filled with everything we’ve chosen. Despite myself, I feel a small sense of accomplishment looking at it—a reminder that we’re doing something normal, something together.As we approach the checkout, a sales assistant glances up and freezes. Her face lights up with recognition, and she strides over, her smile wide and eager.“Mr. Wayne! It’s been such a long time!” she says brightly, her tone dripping with familiarity.Knoxx acknowledges her with a polite nod. “Hello.”Her gaze flits over to me, briefly curious but dismissive as her smile tightens. “And who might this be? Your sister? Or...?”I blink, momentarily stunned by her assumption. Knoxx frowns slightly but doesn’t answer immediately.“She’s my wife,” he says firmly, his tone making it clear there’s no room for argument.The sales assista
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe sun dips below the horizon as we return to the beach house, bags in hand. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore greets us, soothing yet distant. To my surprise, the furniture and decorations we ordered earlier have already arrived, neatly stacked in the living room.“Right on time,” Knoxx says, his tone lighter than usual. He glances at me with a playful grin. “Let’s get to it. I want to see your vision come to life.”“My vision?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You’re acting like I’m redesigning an entire house. It’s just a bedroom.”He shrugs, unboxing the navy-blue sectional sofa we picked out earlier. “Still counts. You have good taste.”We fall into an easy rhythm, unpacking and arranging the pieces. I spread out rugs and position the lamps, while Knoxx tackles the heavier items like the bedframe and dresser. For a while, the awkwardness between us seems to dissipate, replaced by a shared sense of purpose. It feels almost... normal. Almost
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe quiet aftermath settles around us like a warm cocoon. Knoxx lies beside me, his arm lazily draped over my waist as we catch our breath. The dim glow of the bedside lamp softens his features, making him look almost vulnerable, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. My gaze drifts to the drawer where he had placed the condoms earlier, and an unexpected thought lodges itself in my mind.“Knoxx,” I say softly, my voice breaking the silence.He stirs slightly, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at me. “Hmm?”I hesitate, unsure if I should even bring it up. But the thought refuses to leave, growing louder in my mind until I can’t ignore it anymore. “What do you think about having children?”The question seems to jolt him fully awake. His body stiffens ever so slightly, and his eyes widen for a fleeting moment before he schools his expression into something more neutral. “Why do you ask?” he replies, his tone casual but forced.I shift to face him, resting
Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe moment Caroline asks me about my thoughts on having children, I feel my chest tighten. My mind spirals immediately to the one truth I can’t speak aloud—the lingering possibility that Dolly’s child might be mine. The thought doesn’t bring me any joy. Instead, it’s like a heavy weight pressing on my chest, suffocating. I’m afraid, not of the responsibility, but of the implications. That child—if it is mine—represents mistakes, regrets, and a situation I wish I could undo.But Caroline? The idea of her carrying my child fills me with a different kind of emotion entirely—something so foreign, so deeply rooted in joy and longing, that it shakes me. I can almost see it: her belly rounding, her glow brighter than the sun, her hand resting protectively over our child. It’s a vision that catches me off guard and takes my breath away. I’ve never realized how much I want that until this moment.Yet here she is, waiting for my response. Her gaze pierces through me, full
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe ocean breeze filters through the open balcony doors, stirring the sheer curtains and bringing with it the faint scent of salt and sun-drenched sand. I’m supposed to be relaxing, but my mind refuses to cooperate.Instead of lounging with a book or napping under the gentle warmth of the afternoon sun, I’m hunched over my laptop, furiously texting Lisa about the studio.Lisa: Stop nitpicking. The designs are perfect.Me: Are you sure? Maybe the second collection could use more variety. And the logo—does it feel too understated?Lisa: No, it’s chic. Caroline, trust me. This is the kind of subtlety that sells. But we need to talk about something more important.Me: What is it?Lisa: The studio’s name. It’s time we drop the anonymous act. People need to know that you’re the designer behind all of this.My stomach tightens. Me: Why? The anonymous branding is working fine. It’s not about me, it’s about the designs.Her reply comes instantly. Lisa: Caroline, your n
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?”
Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe jail reeks of sweat, piss, and something else I can’t name. The kind of scent that clings to your skin long after you leave. I’ve been standing here for ten minutes, waiting for them to bring her out. I’m not pacing. I’m not anxious. I’m angry. And the longer I stand here, the more it simmers.She finally walks in—Dolly. Her wrists are cuffed, her hair a tangled mess, lips dry and pale. Her eyes flicker up to mine, hopeful. God. Still hopeful.“Knoxx,” she says, a breathy smile tugging at her lips. “You came.”I sit down across from her, hands clasped, jaw tight. “Don’t act surprised. You knew I would.”She leans forward like this is a reunion. “I didn’t think you’d visit this soon.”“I didn’t come to visit,” I snap. “This isn’t a visit. This is the last time we’ll speak.”Her smile falters, but she covers it quickly. “You’re upset. I get it. The media’s twisting everything—”“Stop talking.”Her mouth shuts.I breathe through my nose, steady, even, but inside
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 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?”