Knoxx’s Point of View
A sharp ray of sunlight pierces through my eyelids, and I groan, turning away from the glare. My head pounds, the remnants of too much alcohol still sloshing in my system. I shift, but the soft sheets beneath me feel unfamiliar. Something doesn’t add up.
Where the hell am I?
The smell of faint perfume hits me, and my eyes snap open. My surroundings blur into focus: floral-patterned curtains, a dresser lined with delicate trinkets, and... the sight that makes my blood run cold—I’m in Dolly’s bed.
Panic grips me like a vise. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. My mind scrambles to piece together last night. I remember coming home, drunk. I dreamed of her—her touch, her voice, the way she looked at me. I’m sure it’s Caroline… but now I’m here, and it doesn’t make sense.
“Good morning,” a soft, saccharine voice purrs from the doorway.
I wh
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe rhythmic click of my heels echoes against the marble pavement as I make my way toward the grand entrance of the 30 Under 30 dinner party venue. The glowing chandeliers spill light through the tall glass doors, illuminating the bustling street outside. The entire building exudes elegance and exclusivity, making me acutely aware of every second I’m late.I glance at my phone, its screen glaring at me with an unwelcome truth: 8:15 PM. Knoxx must already be inside. My stomach twists as I imagine him waiting, checking his watch, and wondering why I haven’t arrived yet.This isn’t how I planned tonight.The delay had been unavoidable. Lisa had insisted that I complete a design before leaving work. It wasn’t just the design; it was her tone—the unspoken expectation that only I could finish it properly. I wanted to be done sooner, but the hours had slipped through my fingers. Now, standing outside t
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe sharp click of my heels on the pavement matches the thundering of my heart. The chaos of the last few moments swirls around me like a storm. My eyes dart toward the voice that cuts through the crowd, and relief floods my chest as I see a familiar face—my father.“Dad?” My voice is unsteady, a mix of disbelief and gratitude.He steps forward, his tall figure imposing as always. His sharp suit and confident stride immediately command attention. “Caroline,” he says curtly, his gaze sweeping over me with a quick assessment. ”The receptionists, who moments ago were mocking me with sneers and biting words, suddenly straighten, their demeanor shifting as they recognize him. The smug expressions vanish, replaced by nervous smiles.“Mister Hill,” one of them stammers, her tone now saccharine sweet. “We didn’t realize she was with you. Please, go right in.”My father’s cold gaze lands on her, and she visibly shrinks under his scrutiny. He doesn’t bother to acknowled
Knoxx’s Point of ViewI’m standing near the center of the grand ballroom, a glass of champagne in my hand, barely listening to the conversation swirling around me. Dolly is beside me, her laughter high-pitched and artificial as she flirts shamelessly with some big-name businessmen, her arm looped possessively through mine. I force a polite smile, nodding at the right moments, but my mind is elsewhere.Then I see her.Caroline.She’s here.Her presence pulls my attention like a magnet. She’s radiant, even from across the room, the dim lighting catching on the soft waves of her hair and the elegant dress that hugs her frame. But my stomach twists when I notice who she’s with.Adrian.My stepbrother is leading her to the dance floor, his hand resting casually on the small of her back, his touch infuriatingly intimate. Caroline’s lips curve into a soft smile as he speaks to her, and something primal surges within me. I grip my glass tighter, the champagne threatening to spill over the rim.
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe ride home with Adrian is quiet, but not uncomfortable. The tension from the evening hangs in the air, and I can feel Adrian glancing at me occasionally, gauging my mood. My cheeks burn as I replay Knoxx’s outburst in my head. He’s reckless, emotional, and now, he’s made me the center of gossip in a room full of powerful people. I’m embarrassed, furious even, but the overwhelming feeling is guilt—guilt that Adrian had to endure the brunt of Knoxx’s actions.“I’m sorry,” I murmur, breaking the silence. My voice feels small, but I need to say it.Adrian glances at me, his expression softening. “Why are you apologizing?”“Because none of this would have happened if I hadn’t…” I trail off, unsure how to phrase it without sounding ridiculous. “If I hadn’t danced with you.”He lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe bar smells of spilled alcohol, and the dim neon lights flicker overhead, casting a muted glow on Knoxx’s slouched figure. The space is quiet enough that I can hear the soft hum of the music, a sound that seems to hang in the air and contrast sharply with the storm inside my chest. My heels click against the floor, my steps measured, as if I’m walking toward a confrontation I already know the outcome of. My heart is a twisted mess of confusion and anger, but I hold myself steady as I approach him.He lifts his head slowly, his eyes glassy and unfocused. For a moment, I wonder if he even recognizes me. His gaze lingers for a second longer than usual, and then he mutters, “Caroline.” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been calling for me long before I stepped into the bar. “You came.”I stop just a few steps away, crossing my arms tightly, instinctively shielding myself from whatever comes next. My mind is a whirlpool of emotions, and I don’t trust myself to say
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe morning light filters through the curtains, but it does nothing to lift the weight in my chest. I sit by the window, staring at my phone, willing it to ring. The house is silent, the kind of silence that makes every creak of anything sound louder than it should.Knoxx hasn’t called. Not once.I thought he might notice I wasn’t there when he woke up—or maybe when Dolly and his mother pointed it out. I thought he’d try to contact me, to say something. Apologize, fight, explain—anything. But the hours have stretched on, and my phone screen remains painfully blank.I drop the phone onto the table and rub my temples, trying to ease the tension that’s been building since last night. What am I doing? The question loops in my mind over and over, louder each time. I’ve always believed that if you worked hard enough, you could make a relationship work. But this? This doesn’t feel like a relationship anymore. It feels like a battlefield, with no clear winner and on
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe house smells the same—leather furniture, old books, and my father’s cologne lingering faintly in the air. It’s a smell I grew up with, one that used to comfort me. Now, it feels stifling, suffocating, as if the walls themselves are mocking me for coming back.I step into the living room, my bag heavy on my shoulder. My father looks up from the newspaper, his glasses perched low on his nose. His sharp eyes sweep over me, taking in my disheveled state.“Well, well,” he says, folding the paper with deliberate precision. “Look who decided to grace us with her presence. Did the great Knoxx Wayne finally toss you out?”I sigh, too exhausted to argue. “Good evening, Dad.”He leans back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Caroline, I warned you about him. Told you he was nothing but trouble. But did you listen? Of course not.”“Not tonight, please,” I say, my voice flat.“Oh, but why not? Isn’t this what fathers are supposed to do?
Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe sunlight streaming through the curtains is blinding, cutting through the haze of my pounding headache. I groan, rubbing my temples as the events of last night remain a blur in my mind. The faint taste of whiskey lingers on my tongue, and I regret every sip I took.I sit up, blinking against the harsh light, and glance toward the other side of the bed. It’s empty. The sheets are untouched, as if no one slept there at all. My stomach twists uneasily.I remember that I was in the bar—Caroline was there. She looked angry, or maybe hurt. Did we argue? My mind feels like it’s wading through quicksand, the details slipping away the harder I try to grasp them.“Caroline?” I call out, my voice rough and cracked. The silence in the house is unsettling, the kind that gets under your skin and makes your chest tight.I grab my phone off the nightstand, ready to text her, but I hesitate. What do I even say? I don’t remember much what happened at the bar. She was there, wasn
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit on the floor of my bedroom with my phone in my hand and a heavy ache in my chest. The house is quiet. The twins are with Adrian in the kitchen, drawing on the table with their markers. I told him I needed a few minutes alone. He didn’t ask why—just kissed my cheek and said he’d keep them busy.I stare down at my screen, at the endless thread of messages.Knoxx: I’ll be late tonight. Again.Knoxx: She’s just here for the baby, Caroline. Don’t make a big deal out of it.Knoxx: I’m tired. Can we not do this tonight?Knoxx: I didn’t mean it like that.Knoxx: You’re overthinking. Like always.Each one feels like a scratch on glass. Small, sharp, building toward something that eventually shattered me.I scroll up, past the excuses, past the cold replies, past the silence.Until I reach the older ones.Knoxx: Can’t sto
Caroline's Point of ViewI don’t want to care.But I do.Even after everything. Even after the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation—I still feel that tightening in my chest, that flicker of something I wish I could suffocate. It's not love. It’s not hope. It’s not even hate. It’s a stubborn wound that hasn’t closed properly.The front door creaks. I know the rhythm of those steps. Penelope.I stay where I am, on the couch, a notebook open on my lap. I haven’t written anything meaningful in it all day. Just scribbles. Doodles. Adrian’s name in cursive, printed, tiny in the margins like some foolish girl trying to anchor herself in something good.“You’re not watching the news?” Penelope’s voice is soft, but it cuts through the silence anyway.I look up. Her face says everything before her words do—tense, unreadable.“No,” I say, sharper tha
Knoxx’s Point of ViewIt’s too quiet in the house.I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in my daughter’s room—our daughter’s room—watching her sleep. Eight years old, but still small in ways that remind me how fragile everything is. She clutches the worn-out stuffed bear Dolly gave her on her third birthday. The same one she wouldn't let go of even when she had the flu and cried through the night.I’ve been checking on her more often. Staying longer than I need to. Not because she asks—she rarely does—but because I don’t know what else to do with myself anymore.“Hey, sweetheart,” I whisper, brushing a loose curl from her forehead. “It’s just you and me now.”She doesn’t stir. Just turns her face toward the wall.I lean back against the bedpost, hands tangled together, eyes fixed on the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner. I should feel
Caroline's Point of ViewThe air still smells like antiseptic and cold metal, but somehow, it feels warmer today. Maybe it’s because he’s sitting up now. Alive. Awake. Breathing.Adrian’s hoodie is half-zipped as he moves slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid to tear open anything that’s finally starting to heal. The nurses said he’s stable enough to go home—as long as someone stays with him.I didn’t hesitate.“I’ll take him,” I told them.Because there’s nowhere else he belongs. Not right now.I’m standing by his bed, arms crossed like a wall between myself and all the things I’m feeling. He looks up at me as he adjusts the hoodie. His movements are still weak, but steadier than they were days ago.“You sure you’re okay to leave?” I ask f
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?”