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Chapter 73
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2025-01-25 08:05:00Knoxx’s Point of View
The 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 phon
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Caroline’s Point of ViewThe quiet hum of the diner wraps around us, the clinking of utensils and the low murmur of conversations filling the air. Adrian sits across from me, leaning back in his seat with an easy smile, but his eyes are sharp, studying me.“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asks, breaking the silence. His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern that makes me feel guilty.I fidget with the edge of my napkin, avoiding his gaze. “It’s nothing. Just work.”Adrian raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Caroline, come on. You’ve been picking at your food for twenty minutes, and I’ve never seen you this distracted. If it’s work, I can handle that excuse, but I don’t think it is.”I glance up at him, startled by how easily he reads me. His patience feels like a lifeline, and for a moment, I consider brushing it off again. But then I realize how exhausting it is to keep everything bottled up.“It’s not about Knoxx,” I say quickly, preempting the question I kno
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Caroline’s Point of ViewThe restaurant is small and private, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. Perfect for the kind of discreet meeting I need right now. I check the time on my phone for the tenth time in two minutes, nervous energy coursing through me.When the door swings open, I immediately recognize her—Alisha Glam. She’s even more striking in person, her presence commanding the room effortlessly. She scans the space and makes her way to my table, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor.“Aline Haven?” she asks, her voice cool but not unkind.I stand up quickly, extending my hand. “Yes, that’s me. Thank you so much for agreeing to meet.”She shakes my hand briefly, then sits down across from me, placing a sleek leather handbag on the chair next to her. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure if I should even take this meeting,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “But Adrian convinced me. He spoke very highly of you.”I blink, a wave of gratitude washing over me. Adrian’s n
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Dolly’s Point of ViewI sit in the living room, Alisha Glam’s video playing on my tablet. My heart races with fury as I watch her flawless face beam with that insufferable smile that grating in my nerves.“It seems there was a misunderstanding,” Alisha says, her voice calm and cheerful as if she’s announcing the weather. “Aline Haven, the designer of the piece, reached out to me personally. She was so apologetic and professional about the entire thing. It’s clear this was just an isolated mistake, and it’s all been resolved now.”She pauses dramatically, raising her hand to show off a bracelet—one of Caroline’s designs. The camera zooms in, emphasizing its sparkle under the light.“Look at this,” Alisha gushes. “Isn’t it stunning? Aline Haven even sent me a few new pieces to make up for the earlier issue, and I
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Caroline’s Point of ViewThe days pass in a haze of silence from Knoxx. At first, I tell myself he’s just busy, caught up with work or dealing with whatever drama Dolly has created this time. But as the hours stretch into days, the reality sets in. He’s not reaching out—not a text, not a call, not even a vague sign that he cares about my absence.I try not to dwell on it. Instead, I throw myself into my work and spend more time with Adrian. He’s become a surprising source of comfort. It’s ironic, really—Knoxx’s own brother seems more attuned to my needs than Knoxx himself.Adrian’s invitations become more frequent—coffee, dinners, even casual strolls in the park. Today, he invites me to an art exhibition. “It’s a little niche,” he says, his tone almost teasing. “But I think you’ll like it.”When he picks me up, I can’t help but notice how effortlessly cha
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Caroline’s Point of ViewI’m in the middle of reviewing designs in my studio when it hits—an overwhelming queasiness that makes my stomach lurch. My hands freeze over the sketches, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.It doesn’t work. The sensation grows stronger, forcing me to abandon my work and head straight to the bathroom.I clutch the edge of the sink, the cool porcelain grounding me as I fight the urge to retch. I tell myself it’s stress. That’s all it can be. Between the divorce, the constant tension with Knoxx, and the endless juggling act of managing Aline Jewerly Havens, my body is bound to feel the strain.But as the minutes pass, the nausea doesn’t fade. Instead, it clings to me, persistent and unyielding.I thought if I just gave myself some time to rest, whatever this was would pass on its own. I convinced myself it was just a temporary thing—stress, exhaustion, maybe even
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Caroline’s Point of ViewThe late afternoon sun is soft, casting golden light over the garden where I sit, lost in thought. My hands rest lightly on my lap, but the tension in my chest doesn’t fade. The faint scent of blooming flowers surrounds me, but it does little to calm the storm brewing inside.I feel off. I’ve felt off for days now. Morning sickness has become a daily companion, and I know I can’t keep ignoring it. But the question remains: do I tell Knoxx?A part of me whispers that I should. No matter how strained things are between us, he has a right to know. But then, I remember the cold silence that has hung between us since the dinner party. He hasn’t reached out, hasn’t even tried to fix things. He’s letting me stew in my own frustrations, and I can’t help but think it’s exactly what Dolly wanted.I sigh, running a hand over my stomach as if it holds the answers. “What do I do?&rdqu
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Caroline’s Point of ViewThe steady hum of my office fills the air as I sit at my drafting table, pencil in hand. The world around me fades as I lose myself in the delicate lines and curves of the necklace I’m sketching. Designing has always been my sanctuary—a place where the noise of life quiets and my thoughts can flow freely.Today, however, there’s a faint buzz of unease that I can’t quite shake. Something feels off, though I can’t put my finger on it.“Caroline,” Lisa’s voice cuts through the silence, breaking my focus.I look up to see her standing in the doorway, a nervous energy radiating from her. She’s holding her tablet, her fingers gripping it tightly. “You’re not going to believe this.”“What is it?” I ask, setting my pencil down and gesturing for her to come closer.She hesitates, then steps into the room and places the tablet in front of
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Caroline’s Point of ViewThe night feels heavy as I sit in my living room, scrolling through my phone, hoping for some distraction from the gnawing unease Lisa left behind earlier.I try to focus on the bright images on my screen, scrolling aimlessly through social media, watching posts and updates that mean nothing. They’re a distraction, yes, but the unease in my gut refuses to fade. The events of the day swirl in my mind—Lisa’s unsettling behavior, her hurried exit from the studio without any explanation, the way she seemed to be avoiding eye contact. All of it points to something. Something I can’t quite grasp, but I feel it in my bones.I take a deep breath, setting my phone down on the coffee table. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Lisa has been with me for years, and while she’s been acting strange lately, it’s hard to believe she’d betray me like that. She’s always been a close friend, more than just
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Caroline Point of ViewThe next day, I arrive at my shop early,expecting another day of long hours of cleaning up and fixing the mess of theday before. But when I emerge onto the sidewalk, I am stopped. The walls thathad been defaced with vulgar graffiti just yesterday are spotless. The crudewords spray-painted across my store’s sign are gone, as if they were neverthere. Even the sidewalk, which had been littered with trash, looks freshlycleaned.I blink, confused. Did the city workersclean it up? No, that wouldn’t make sense. There’s no way they’d work that fastfor a single shop.Then, I hear it.“Miss Hill, we are truly sorry!”I turn sharply toward the voice and see thesame group of men from yesterday—the ones who had demanded a protection fee.The same gangsters who had laughed when I told them I wasn’t paying them asingle cent. But now, instead of smug arrogance, they look… terrified.One of them, a burly man with a scarrunning down his cheek, actually bows. “We had no
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Caroline’s Point of ViewI take a step back and look over the shop,pride swelling to the surface of my chest. The glass display cases, recentlyinstalled, shine with gentle light, and walls boast decorations of equally goodtaste carefully selected to enhance the classy image I had envisioned. My ownjewelry studio at last appears to be coming together. It has not been easy andI know there is more to come, but seeing it all begin to come together fills mewith hope.Tomorrow, I will have a soft opening, alow-key announcement to inform people that my brand is here. I don't want a biglaunch—just a steady, solid beginning. My work will speak for itself, and Ibelieve in it enough to know it will.But my happiness does not last long.The instant the front door is flung open, arough looking of men enter. There are three of them—tough-looking,leathery-clad, and with the odor of smoke about them. There is one, the tallestone, with a scar down the left side of his cheek. He advances fo
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Dolly’sPoint of ViewIscroll through my phone, tapping my fingers on the screen as I read theannouncement for the jewelry design competition in Italy. A sneer forms on mylips. This company? I've never regarded them highly. They boast about theirtradition and craftsmanship, but they don't stand out to me. Yet, thecompetition is reputable, and the media attention is extensive. It’s the sortof opportunity that could transform someone’s life.Notthat I need them to change mine. I’m already the best. But I need leverage. Ineed a reason for Knoxx to finally take the next step.I turnmy head slightly, stealing a glance at him from across the room. He’s sprawledon the couch, his arm draped casually over the back as he watches my daughterplay with one of her toys. This moment should fill me with warmth, but instead,I feel a surge of frustration.It’sbeen years. Years since Caroline left. Years since I came back. And yet, hestill refuses to marry me. Still refuses to make ‘our’ f
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Caroline’sPoint of ViewStaringat the laptop, I sit at my desk; the official announcement of the comingjewelry design contest in Italy blinks in front of me. My fingers hover aboutthe keyboard as I read the details for the tenth time.One ofthe most prestigious competitions in the industry, conducted globally by one ofthe oldest and most well-respected jewelry houses, the grand prize ismembership with them. But that is not why I am interested—more so with therecognition, not a position there. My new studio is just starting to find itsfeet, and to win or even just leave a mark in this competition might meangetting my break.Myheart starts racing as I almost lose my breath. Part of me is eager; that's thedrive to be able to prove myself. Another part lingers-a part that remembersthe hurt of last times.Welteringmemories, both unwelcome and painful, down into my mind-I remember back to whenI was last involved in such a competition. The anticipation and all that joylightin
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Caroline’s Point of ViewI step into my home, feeling the warm comfort wraparound me like a warm blanket. Vanilla and the scent of something sweet bakingin the oven fill the air. It makes me feel welcome, relaxing me and comfortingme like I'm at home. It's the kind of warmth I imagined a family wouldhave, this feeling of being at home and comforted that overcomes me. I drop mybag on the floor and take a moment to soak it all in. In a flash, a tiny shaperuns towards me, breaking my moment of tranquility."Mommy! You're home!" My son launcheshimself into my arms, wrapping them around me. I wrap mine around him,breathing in his scent, feeling the strong beat of his little heart againstmine."I'm home, sweetheart," I whisper,leaving a kiss on the crown of his head.He looks at me, his eyes shining. "Daddy'smaking my birthday cake! It'll be out soon. He'll be out in a minute!"Wait!Daddy?I freeze. The warmth in my chest stutters for abrief second.I glance around. The house
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Caroline’s Point of ViewI am paralyzed with shock. My breath getsstuck somewhere in the throat and my heart pounds in my chest. This isoverwhelming. I'm not sure what to say or think as thereality of his words sinks in.What?Before I can even process his words, theworld around me blurs, and everything else fades into the background.He said what?I stare at Adrian, my heart pounding, my brainstruggling to process his words."You… what?" I manage to say, my voicetrembling and soft. Did I really hear him correctly? Did he genuinely just tellthe kindergarten that we were engaged? He leans back against the bench, licking his icecream as if he hasn't just dropped a bomb on me and, after a moment, smirks."Relax, I am just kidding."I blink, completely caught off guard."What?" I ask, trying to grasp what just happened. He laughs, obviously getting a kick out of myreaction. "I didn't say we were engaged. I just made a small donation tohelp them build a new playground. They ag
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Caroline’s Point of ViewI still feel anxious after leaving thekindergarten. Even when I try to ignore it, it sticks in my mind. The best ofeverything should be offered to my son, and I feel that I failed him today.When we walked out, I still remember the look on his little face. It was atthat point his expression changed, his shoulders drooping like they were heavy.Despite being so young, he had to deal with rejection for something he didn'tdo wrong.That burden falls on me alone.I take a sharp breath and shake my head,trying to dispel the thoughts that haunt me. But they cling on, refusing to letgo.Adrian notices, of course. He always picksup on when something is bothering me. Whenever I am bothered by something, heis the first to pick up on it. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he watchesme poke cold food on my plate. "Caroline," he says, his voice amixture of softness and concern. “Stop overthinking.”I look up, surprised by his insight. “I’mnot—”“You are,” he g
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Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit in the principal’s office and clutchthe edge of my chair and listen to her polite but firm refusal. Her expressionis neutral, professional; but I catch the judgement hiding in her meticulouslychosen words.“We thank you for your interest, Miss Hill,” she says with atight-lipped smile. "However, we have very limited spots available, and weprioritize students who come from stable backgrounds. That is morebeneficial for children than providing a quote-unquote stable or consistentenvironment."I stiffen. "My son has a supportiveand consistent environment," I say, keeping my voice calm even though mystomach twists. The principal folds her hands on the deskand nods, though her smile doesn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sure you do your best,but there are some challenges as a single mother that you may not anticipate.We have a very rigorous academic structure here, and we’ve noticed that children from two-parenthouseholds do really well in this kind of env
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Caroline’s Point of ViewSilence fills the car, thick and heavy like a blanket. My son's question keeps replaying in my mind, over and over, making it hard to think of anything else.“If Uncle Adrian is not my daddy… then who is?”My breath catches. I feel Adrian still beside me, his hands frozen on the steering wheel.I turn to face my son, but no words come out. My heart pounds as I try to find an answer—one that won’t hurt him. And for the first time in a long time, I realize I don’t know what to say.I never thought he would ask this. I wasn’t ready for it. I had hoped he wouldn’t wonder about it, especially not now when things seemed so steady. I thought he was already seeing Adrian as his father. I thought he wouldn’t even ask about the man who should be here but isn’t. I tried to shield him from this difficult truth. Clearly, I was wrong.I take a deep breath, feeling shaky. I turn to look at him. His big, innocent eyes are focused on me, filled with curiosity and expectation
