Caroline’s Point of View
The shock hasn’t worn off yet. It’s been hours since I watched Lisa’s video, but the words still echo in my mind like a hollow drumbeat. I can’t escape them. I can’t escape the betrayal, the coldness in her eyes when she said Dolly was the true visionary behind everything I’ve worked for. But there’s more to this. The more I think about it, the more I realize something doesn’t add up.
How could I have been so blind?
How could she do this to me?
I think back to the conversations we had, the moments that should have raised red flags. How Lisa had always been so reassuring, so confident in our success. But there was that moment—the celebrity who had an allergy to one of our designs. It had seemed like a small issue at the time, but Lisa’s reaction was strange. She had known exactly what had happened, almost like she had anticipated it, and I couldn’t understand h
Caroline’s Point of ViewI stand frozen at Dolly’s door, my breath shallow and uneven. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, thumping louder with each passing second. I should’ve expected this, but part of me is still caught off guard. I’ve prepared myself for this confrontation, but nothing could truly prepare me for the reality of what I’m about to face.When I knock, the sound echoes sharply down the hall, breaking the silence that has consumed me. A moment later, Dolly’s voice calls out from inside, almost too casual.“Come in.”I push the door open, stepping into her room. But before I can get too far, Dolly’s eyes widen in apparent surprise. She’s sitting at her desk, but the calm demeanor she usually wears falters just for a second. She’s taken off guard, I can tell. But she quickly recovers, putting on a smile as if she’s done nothing wrong.“What’s this about
Caroline’s Point of ViewMy husband’s first love ruins our third year anniversary.I’m sitting by the window of a fancy restaurant, nervously waiting for Knoxx, my husband. I dress up in my favorite black dress. It’s been three years of marriage—three years of hoping, waiting for the man I love to finally see me, to finally understand that I’m more than just a wife of convenience. That it is not all about the arranged marriage.I fiddle with the napkin in my lap, glancing at the clock, watching as each minute crawls by. Any moment now, Knoxx will walk through the door.Tonight feels different. Tonight, I feel like something is going to change.I had seen the headlines earlier this week:[Wayne Corp Heir Spends Fortune on Rare Ruby Necklace—A Gift for Someone Special!]"Someone special." Those two words have been ringing in my head ever since I read them. Who is more important to him than me, his wife?After all the distance between us, the missed anniversaries, the cold silences… perha
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit there, frozen, still reeling from the words that left Knoxx’s mouth just moments ago.“Didn’t you marry me for the money?”The question loops in my mind like a broken record, leaving behind a sting I can’t shake. Did Knoxx always think that? That I only wanted his wealth? That I had trapped him in this marriage? The weight of the accusation presses down on me, suffocating in its cruelty."Is that really what you believe?" I ask quietly, my voice barely audible as I look at him. "That I married you for the money? That I forced you into this?"Knoxx's expression is unreadable, the same cold mask he always wears, but there's a flicker in his eyes—something dark, something cruel. He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he picks up my half-finished glass of wine from the table and takes a slow sip. The silence stretches between us, heavy and unbearable.“You don’t love me,” he finally says, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink that echoes in the qui
Caroline’s Point of View“Girl, let me take you somewhere nice,” Penelope, my best friend, says, her voice wrapping around me like a warm hug. She’s leaning against her sleek new sports car, a knowing smile playing on her lips, as if she can see through the mask I’m trying so hard to keep up.I step out of the house, trying to leave the weight of everything behind me, but the hurt sticks. Penelope’s eyes catch on something near the front lawn, and she bends down to pick it up.“What’s this?” she asks, curiosity lacing her voice as she holds up a delicate black box, gold lettering gleaming in the fading evening light.My stomach churns. I know exactly what that box is. The jewelry box—the same kind Knoxx used when he bought Dolly that ruby necklace at the auction. I take it from Penelope, my hands shaking as I pop it open. Inside are two diamond earrings, beautiful but cold. They shine, but not for me.I snap the box shut, my chest tightening.“They were probably for Dolly,” I mutter, m
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe air feels thick as I approach the café. My hands tremble slightly, though I force them to remain at my sides, steady. I’ve run this moment over in my head so many times, imagining the words I’d say, how I’d keep my composure, but now that it’s real, there’s an uncomfortable tightness in my chest. I push open the door, the chime overhead ringing lightly, a sharp contrast to the heaviness I feel inside.Dolly is already there, seated in a corner, legs crossed, looking like she stepped straight out of a magazine. Her hair is perfect, her makeup flawless, and her lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.“Caroline,” she says, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness, like we’re old friends. “You’re right on time. Why don’t you sit? We have a lot to discuss.”I don’t bother with pleasantries, cutting right to the point. “You’re back, and I want to know why. What are you planning?”She leans back, her smirk growing. “Oh, Caroline,” she sighs, like
Caroline’s Point of ViewAfter that confrontation with Knoxx, I don’t go home. I drive to my childhood estate, the house looming larger than I remember. It sits cold and imposing, framed by perfectly manicured gardens and tall hedges. The driveway stretches ahead of me, lined with palm trees that stand stiffly, like silent sentinels.As I step inside, the chill in the air bites immediately. No laughter, no warmth—just the grand, empty space filled with imposing furniture and unyielding silence. It’s the home of a businessman, a place as reserved as the man who owns it.“Ah, the prodigal daughter returns,” a voice calls from the living room.I follow the sound and find my father seated in his usual spot: a luxurious leather armchair by the fireplace, sipping his tea. His gaze, cold and discerning, doesn’t soften as he looks at me, though a trace of surprise flits across his features.“So,” he says, his voice laced with a blend of sarcasm and faint satisfaction, “the man finally abandone
Caroline’s Point of ViewFor the first time in my marriage, I don’t go home. I can’t. Instead, I find myself in my childhood bedroom, curled up in the familiar but almost stifling atmosphere of my father’s mansion. I try to process everything he said to me when I arrived. The warmth I had once imagined in this place doesn’t exist. He was right in a way I didn’t want to admit; I don’t deserve to be treated like this, but his reminders sting rather than comfort me."You’re the heir of this family," he had said sharply, his voice more cutting than compassionate. "Stop hiding from the world. You were a fool to think that man would ever see your worth.”It’s a familiar kind of pain, this undercurrent of disappointment. His version of love has always felt conditional, tied to expectations I’ve never fully met. Part of me knew coming here would reopen these old wounds, but somehow, it’s grounding. His disappointment is something I’ve grown used to, and it reminds me of why I married Knoxx in
Caroline’s Point of ViewAs I step into my room, my stomach tightens at the sight before me—my suitcases, their contents strewn across the ground. Clothes spill out haphazardly, a few scattered personal items lying in plain view, as though my life here is being rummaged through and dissected.Our maid has been going through my things in a rush, as if looking for something. And in the corner of my bed, I see Karen, Knoxx’s mother, with cross arms.“What are you doing?!” I ask angrily while I start to gather my things and put them in my suitcase.Karen’s sharp eyes narrow as they settle on me, her lips curling with that same disdain I’ve grown accustomed to. Without a word, she strides up and yanks my suitcase from my hand, her grip unyielding. “I need to check if you’ve taken anything that doesn’t belong to you,” she says, each word heavy with contempt, as though she expects to find priceless jewels tucked away in my clothes.I blink, momentarily stunned. “There’s nothing in this house
Caroline’s Point of ViewI stand frozen at Dolly’s door, my breath shallow and uneven. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, thumping louder with each passing second. I should’ve expected this, but part of me is still caught off guard. I’ve prepared myself for this confrontation, but nothing could truly prepare me for the reality of what I’m about to face.When I knock, the sound echoes sharply down the hall, breaking the silence that has consumed me. A moment later, Dolly’s voice calls out from inside, almost too casual.“Come in.”I push the door open, stepping into her room. But before I can get too far, Dolly’s eyes widen in apparent surprise. She’s sitting at her desk, but the calm demeanor she usually wears falters just for a second. She’s taken off guard, I can tell. But she quickly recovers, putting on a smile as if she’s done nothing wrong.“What’s this about
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe shock hasn’t worn off yet. It’s been hours since I watched Lisa’s video, but the words still echo in my mind like a hollow drumbeat. I can’t escape them. I can’t escape the betrayal, the coldness in her eyes when she said Dolly was the true visionary behind everything I’ve worked for. But there’s more to this. The more I think about it, the more I realize something doesn’t add up.How could I have been so blind?How could she do this to me?I think back to the conversations we had, the moments that should have raised red flags. How Lisa had always been so reassuring, so confident in our success. But there was that moment—the celebrity who had an allergy to one of our designs. It had seemed like a small issue at the time, but Lisa’s reaction was strange. She had known exactly what had happened, almost like she had anticipated it, and I couldn’t understand h
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
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
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
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
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
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
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