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 ViewThe room is bathed in darkness, save for the faint silver light of the moon streaming through the curtains. I stir awake, reaching out instinctively to Knoxx’s side of the bed. My hand meets cold sheets, and my heart skips a beat. I sit up, scanning the dim room, but he’s not there.Frowning, I slip out of bed, wrapping a robe around myself. Maybe he couldn’t sleep and went to get some water, or perhaps he was working late in the study. I tell myself not to worry, but a small voice in the back of my mind whispers doubts I don’t want to entertain.The house is eerily quiet as I pad through the hallway. The soft sound of waves crashing against the shore drifts in through the open windows, mingling with the creaks of the old floorboards beneath my feet. I glance into the kitchen and the living room, but both are empty. The study door is ajar, but there’s no sign of him there either.A chill runs down my spine as I realize Dolly's room is empty as well. My breath
Knoxx’s Point of View The door creaks open, and I’m jolted awake. For a split second, I think it’s Caroline, maybe coming back to bed after a restless moment. But instead, I see Dolly standing there, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway light. My stomach tightens with a mix of frustration and alarm. What the hell is she doing here?I quickly rise from the bed, glancing back at Caroline. She’s still asleep, her breathing steady, her features soft in the moonlight. I don’t want her waking up to this.“What are you doing?” I whisper harshly, stepping toward Dolly and shutting the door behind me as quietly as possible. “Have you lost your mind?”Dolly’s face is flushed, her eyes glistening as though she’s been crying. But I’ve seen this act before—the carefully calculated vulnerability designed to chip away at my defenses.“Knoxx,” she breathes, her voice low and pleading. “We need to talk.”I drag her further down the hall, away from the bedroom until we reach outside the house, nea
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe sun dips low on the horizon as the car weaves through the familiar roads back to the city. One month. It feels like both a lifetime and a fleeting moment. I glance at Knoxx, who’s focused on the road, his profile calm yet determined. The man who once felt like a stranger has been trying, in his own way, to close the chasm between us.But is it enough?I can’t say for certain. What I do know is that the one-month trial is over, and I’m still here. The papers remain unsigned, folded neatly in the back of my drawer, where I hid them after we arrived at the beach house.“You’re awfully quiet,” Knoxx says, his voice breaking the silence. His gaze flicks toward me briefly, concern etched into his features.I force a small smile. “Just tired.”His brows furrow slightly, but he doesn’t press. I can tell he wants to. The Knoxx from a month ago would’ve brushed it off, uninterested in prying deeper into my feelings. But now, he hesitates, as if weighing his words ca
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe sunlight streams through the windows of the living room as I sip my tea, savoring the fleeting calmness. It’s the kind of peace that feels too fragile to last, especially after everything we’ve been through.But then I hear the sound of heels clacking against the floor, loud and intrusive. My brows knit together as I set my cup down. The front door opens, and a familiar figure steps inside like she owns the place. Dolly. Again.I rise from the couch, my heart thudding with irritation. “What are you doing here?” My voice is sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.Dolly pauses, a fake smile plastered across her face as she adjusts her designer bag on her shoulder. Her hand rests lightly on her stomach, the calculated gesture meant to draw attention to her pregnancy.“Good morning, Caroline,” she says, her tone dripping with saccharine sweetness. “Didn’t Knoxx tell you? I’ll be staying here for a while.”My jaw tightens. “He most certainly did not. And w
Caroline’s Point of ViewTime sit still when Dolly's presence is all over the house. I sit on the couch, flipping through a book, attempting to ignore the rising tension in the house. She’s been oddly quiet today, which is more unsettling than her usual antics.Then, as if on cue, her heels clack against the floor, a deliberate announcement of her arrival. She steps into the room with a smug smile, her hand resting lightly on her ever-growing belly.“Oh, Caroline,” she says in that overly sweet voice of hers, “you’ll never believe what I found while organizing my things.”I glance up from my book, already dreading whatever nonsense she’s about to spew. “What is it this time, Dolly?”She holds up an old, slightly worn photograph. “Look at this!” she exclaims, walking closer to shove it in my face. “It’s from homecoming. Do you remember, Knoxx? You took me to prom that year. It was such a magical night.”Knoxx, who’s sitting in the adjacent chair, barely looks up from his laptop. “Hmm,”
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe evening air in the room feels heavy, suffocating almost, as I lie on the bed, my back turned to the door. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts long shadows on the wall, and I focus on the faint patterns, trying to block out the turmoil in my mind. Dolly’s smug face, her incessant need to dig into our past, still plays in my head like a taunting melody.Knoxx’s muffled footsteps outside the door grow louder. My heart clenches when I hear the knob turn, but I’m determined not to let him know how much I’m stewing over the events of the day. I close my eyes, pretending to sleep, my breaths slow and even.The door clicks shut behind him, and his presence fills the room. Even without looking, I can feel his eyes on me, assessing, calculating. The bed dips slightly under his weight as he sits beside me. The silence between us is palpable, broken only by the faint rustle of his shirt as he shifts.“Caroline,” he murmurs, his voice soft but insistent.I don’t
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?”
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.&rd
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