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
Caroline’s Point of ViewI’m arranging the last set of picture frames on the dresser when I hear the sharp sound of heels clicking against the wooden floor. The steady rhythm grows louder, accompanied by an unmistakable tension that makes my shoulders tighten.When Dolly appears in the doorway, her expression is a storm of anger and disdain. Her eyes scan the room, taking in every detail of the space I’ve worked so hard to transform into something that feels remotely like mine—ours.“What is this?” she demands, her voice cutting through the peaceful atmosphere I’d been trying to cultivate. Her gaze narrows on the fresh curtains, the navy-blue sectional, and the carefully chosen decor. “Who do you think you are, redecorating this place like you own it?”I blink, startled by her audacity but quickly recovering. My hand settles on the edge of the dresser as I face her. “Dolly, this is my house. My name is literally on the property. If anyone has the right to make changes, it’s me.”She s
Caroline's Point of ViewI sit on the couch, my fingers touch the edge of my glass creating a soft clink that breaks the quiet between Adrian and me. My brain can't stop, ideas colliding as I look at Adrian, who sits across from me. His face gives nothing away, his body seems at ease, but I know better. I understand him more deeply. Something always hides under the surface with him.The impact of this revelation hits me hard making breathing tough. For years, I clung to that memory—gripped it like a lifeline during my marriage's worst times, as if it proved Knoxx could do something good, something unselfish. But it wasn't him. It was Adrian.I let out a slow breath before I break the quiet. "Adrian," I begin, my voice gentler than I meant it to be. "The watch... that day... you saved me, didn't you?"Adrian looks at me, his dark eyes calm hard to read. He doesn't answer right away, which makes my heart race with suspense.After what seems like forever, he sits back on the couch drummi
Caroline’s Point of ViewI hesitate for a moment before knocking on Liam’s bedroom door, the soft sound barely audible in the quiet hallway. My fingers tighten slightly against the wood as I wait for a response. When none comes, I push the door open gently, peeking inside.Liam is curled up on his bed, his small frame illuminated by the glow of his nightlight. The soft, star-shaped light casts a faint pattern against the walls, a comforting presence in an otherwise heavy atmosphere.He doesn’t look at me when I enter.Instead, he stares at the ceiling, his brows furrowed in deep thought, his little hands gripping the blanket tightly. The sight makes my chest ache. I know that look—I’ve worn it too many times myself.Something is eating at him.I take a slow step forward, keeping my voice gentle. “Hey, buddy,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Uncle Adrian said you came home upset today. Want to talk about it?”Liam’s reaction is immediate. His small shoulders tense, and he shake
Caroline’s Point of ViewAs expected, Adrian’s entire demeanor shifts the moment his gaze lands on Alessandro. His usual cool confidence falters just enough for me to notice—the sharp furrow of his brows, the slight clench of his jaw, the way his shoulders stiffen like he’s bracing himself for something.Jealousy.It hums in the air between us, subtle but unmistakable.He steps forward, his movements controlled but laced with something tense, something taut and restrained. “Who’s this?” His voice is steady, but there’s a bite to it, a careful edge that makes my stomach flutter for reasons I don’t want to analyze too deeply.Alessandro, ever the charming one, doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. He offers a small smile, tilting his head as he introduces himself. “Alessandro Luca Romano,” he says smoothly, his Italian accent thick and effortless. “Caroline’s newest employee.”I can practically feel the heat of Adrian’s gaze as he shifts his attention to me, questioning, searching for somet
Dolly’s Point of ViewThe moment Knoxx mentions that our stay in Italy is only temporary, a sharp pang slices through my chest. I have always known this wasn’t permanent, but hearing it so plainly from his lips makes my stomach churn. It isn’t just about me anymore. My daughter loves it here.And I can’t say no to her.“Mommy, please,” she whines, tugging on the hem of my designer dress with her tiny hands. Her big, pleading eyes glisten as she looks up at me, her bottom lip jutting out in an almost perfect pout. “I don’t want to go back. I love it here. Italy is so much prettier than home! The people talk funny, but I like it!”I stroke her soft curls, my heart squeezing. She is my world, my perfect little angel. How can I deny her anything?I kneel in front of her, smoothing out the frills of her dress as I speak softly. “I know, sweetheart. Mommy loves it here too. But Daddy—” I hesitate, my lips pressing together. The words feel heavy, like they don’t belong in my mouth. “Daddy th
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe moment he speaks, I know I’m in trouble."I saw your job posting," he says, his deep, smooth voice laced with something effortlessly charming. "I’d like to apply."Penelope grips my wrist hard under the counter, and I barely suppress a wince.This man—this Italian god—is exactly the type of employee that would drive my customers crazy. And I don’t mean bad crazy. I mean good crazy. The buy-everything-in-the-store-just-to-see-him-smile kind of crazy.He's got a boyish charm, younger but still undeniably handsome. Tall and lean, he carries himself with effortless confidence, the kind that turns heads without trying. His dark brown hair is tousled in that perfect mix of careless and intentional, and his sharp, well-defined features make it impossible to look away.But it's his eyes that truly draw you in.A deep, warm hazel—alive with mischief, edged with something both playful and a little dangerous.He tilts his head, and I realize I’ve been quiet for too l
Caroline’s Point of ViewWinning the competition should have been the hardest part.I pour everything into my designs, fighting against sabotage, betrayal, and every possible obstacle thrown my way. Yet, standing in my boutique weeks later, watching the steady stream of customers come and go, I realize something.The real battle has just begun.Success has turned into an exhausting whirlwind. My inbox is constantly flooded with custom orders, my phone never stops buzzing with inquiries, and every time I sit down, another customer walks in needing assistance.At first, the rush of it all is exhilarating. Now? It’s just exhausting.Penelope leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching me struggle to balance three jewelry boxes while answering a customer's question. "You need help," she says, unimpressed."I’ve got it," I insist, shifting my grip.I do not have it.One box slips, and in my panic to catch it, the others follow.With a loud clatter, all three hit the floor.Penelope s
Caroline’s Point of ViewI grip my bag so tightly my fingers start to cramp. But I don’t loosen my hold. I don’t dare. Because if I do, I might lose my grip on more than just the bag—I might lose my grip on myself.My mind is still a storm of emotions, a violent whirlwind that refuses to settle, refuses to let me breathe. I replay every word of that kindergarten disaster, every sharp remark Dolly threw at me like knives, aiming straight for the parts of me she knew were already bruised."A child raised without a real father is bound to be unruly.""No wonder Knoxx replaced you."My jaw clenches, my teeth grinding together.How dare she?How dare she stand there, smug and victorious, as if she has some moral high ground over me?Dolly—the woman who stole my designs, my husband, and now wants to act as if she has the right to look down on me?The very thought of it makes my blood boil.I should have said more. Should have ripped her down from that pedestal she’s so desperate to stay on.
Caroline’s Point of View The call from the kindergarten comes when I’m in the middle of reviewing some design sketches. "Ms. Hill," the teacher's voice is tight with concern. "I'm sorry to bother you, but there's been… an incident with Liam." My heart stops for a second. I grip the phone tighter. "What happened?" The teacher sighs. "There was a disagreement between the children. Some of the kids… well, they were saying that Liam has no father. Another child defended him, but it escalated into a physical altercation." My breath catches. Liam. They bullied him again. I inhale sharply, trying to control the sharp sting in my chest. "Who defended him?" A pause. "Bryan." I blink, stunned. Bryan? Lorenzo’s son? That… that doesn’t make sense. Bryan had always been distant towards Liam, not outright cruel, but he never stood up for him either. So why now? I shake off the confusion, focusing on what’s important. "Is Liam hurt?" "No, but we need to address this
Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe moment Dolly steps into my house, holding our daughter in her arms, I feel nothing.Absolutely nothing.I stand there, watching as she moves past me with her usual bright, expectant smile, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor like she already owns the place. She looks around, her eyes lighting up, as if she’s envisioning the future she’s always wanted—the future she thinks she’s about to have.I should feel something.Satisfaction, maybe.Relief, even.But instead, there’s only this dull, suffocating weight in my chest, this gnawing emptiness that refuses to go away no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise.This was supposed to make me feel better.I brought them here for a reason.To prove a point.To show Caroline that I didn’t need her. That I moved on. That I had a family now, a woman who stayed by my side instead of walking away.But the moment I saw her face twist with that cold, indifferent expression, the moment she looked