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Chapter 89
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2025-02-02 08:00:00Knoxx’s Point of View
I search everywhere.
Every street, every hotel, every place she might have gone. I call in favors, dig through every possible lead, but it’s like chasing a ghost. Every step I take, she’s already five steps ahead. Every door I knock on, it’s already closed. Every trace of her is gone, wiped clean as if she never existed.
Caroline is gone.
Not hiding. Not waiting for me to find her.
She left.
The weight of that realization presses down on my chest like a slow, crushing force, making it hard to breathe. At first, I refuse to believe it. It doesn’t make sense. She’s my wife. No matter how bad things got between us, no matter how many times she tried to walk away, she always stayed.
She always stayed.
She gave me cold shoulders, harsh words, and empty stares, but s
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Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe months pass like a blur, each day bleeding into the next, indistinct and empty. The city moves on, as it always does, but I feel stuck in time, trapped in the same moment—the moment she left.And no matter how hard I try to fight against it, no matter how many strings I pull or connections I leverage, I can’t change that fact.I use everything in my arsenal—private investigators, surveillance, even my own men—hoping for a single lead, a single clue about where she could have gone. But it’s as if she never existed. Every trail I follow leads to a dead end, every source comes up with nothing.At first, I refuse to believe it. This is Caroline. My wife. The woman who has always been there, always waiting, always fighting to keep what little we had. She wouldn’t just disappear like this.But the more time passes, the
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Caroline’s Point of ViewFour years.Four years since I left New York. Four years since I walked away from the life I thought I was meant to have. Four years since I decided that I was done waiting for people to choose me, to see my worth, to love me the way I deserved.And now, here I am, standing in front of a full-length mirror in my modest Milan apartment, adjusting the stiff fabric of my graduation cap. The deep navy gown drapes over my shoulders, the weight of it symbolic—not just of the degree I’m about to receive, but of everything it took to get here.I never imagined myself in this position, not really. When I left New York, I had no plan beyond survival. I had no idea where I was going, only that I couldn’t stay. But somewhere along the way, I found a path. And I walked it.‘No,’ I correct myself, gripping the edges of the cap firmly as I set it on my head.I built it.The apartment is quiet, save for the distant hum of morning traffic filtering in through the open window.
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Caroline’s Point of ViewThe night air in Milan is crisp, carrying the scent of fresh rain from earlier in the evening. Neon lights from the bars and restaurants lining the streets flicker and dance against the wet pavement, giving the city a dreamlike glow. It feels different tonight—lighter, freer. Maybe it’s because for the first time in years, I don’t have the weight of unfinished business pressing down on my shoulders.I graduated.I have a new life.And tonight, I’m going to celebrate.I adjust the strap of my dress as I step into the dimly lit bar, scanning the crowded room until my eyes land on a familiar face at one of the booths. My best friend, Penelope, is already waiting, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips as she waves me over.“Finally!” she exclaims as I slide into the seat across from her. “You were taking forever. What were you doing? Writing an essay on how to have fun?”I roll my eyes. “I was making sure my son was okay before abandoning him for the night.”She
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Caroline’s Point of ViewFor the past three years, Adrian has been by my side. Not as my boyfriend. Not even as something I could clearly define. But as someone—someone who took care of my son when I was too exhausted to even lift my head. Someone who stayed up with me when I thought I was failing as a mother. Someone who made sure I ate when I forgot, who held me when I cried, who reminded me that I wasn’t alone.He never pushed. Never asked for more. And yet, everyone around us assumed we were together. I let them assume. It was easier than explaining something I wasn’t even sure I understood myself. Because the truth is, Adrian and I never had that conversation.There was no grand confession, no defining moment where we looked at each other and decided, ‘this is it.’ There was only ‘this.’The quiet companionship. The shared responsibilities. The way he always seemed to be there when I needed him most. An
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Caroline’s Point of ViewI wake up to the soft sound of giggles.For a moment, I linger between sleep and consciousness, the warmth of the blankets making it tempting to stay curled up. But then I hear it again—light laughter, followed by the distinct sound of a spatula scraping against a pan. The scent of coffee drifts in, mingling with something warm and savory, and that’s when I realize what’s happening.Adrian is already up.I push myself up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glance toward the slightly open bedroom door. The house is filled with a quiet kind of life—soft morning sounds, the occasional clatter of dishes, and my son’s delighted giggles. It’s a scene that has played out so many times in the past three years, yet somehow, today, it feels different.Padding down the hall, I step into the kitchen and stop at the sight in front of me.Adrian stands at the stove, one hand flipping an o
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Caroline’s Point of ViewSome nights still feel like a test of endurance.The past clings to me, creeping into my quiet moments, slipping between the cracks of my consciousness when I least expect it. Even now, after all these years, there are moments when I wake up in a cold sweat, my breath caught in my throat, my mind tangled in the remnants of a past that refuses to let go.I remember one night in particular—one of the hardest nights I had ever faced.My son had been burning up with fever, his tiny body too warm, his cries too weak, and I had felt utterly helpless. I had cradled him in my arms, rocking him back and forth, whispering soft reassurances that I wasn’t even sure he could hear. His little fingers clutched at my shirt, his breaths ragged and uneven, and the sheer weight of my fear pressed down on me so hard I thought it might crush me.I had done everything I was supposed to do. I had read the books, listened to advi
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Caroline’s Point of ViewI don't think of him anymore.Not when I wake up in the morning to the ring of my son's laughter. Not when I spend my days juggling work and school and the tiny, beautiful chaos of being a mother. Not even when the nights are quiet, when there is nothing but the hum of my own breathing and the soft creaking of trees outside my window.For three years, I have built something new for myself. A life that isn't haunted by the ghosts of the past.But today, his name crawls into my world like an unwelcome guest.I'm to meet Adrian and Penelope downtown at a certain café, when my babysitter cancels for me at the last minute, so I begin scrambling through a short list for someone to pick up my baby before finally turning to an older neighbor who'd watched my child a few times before. By the time I know he's in good hands, I'm already running late.It's just a short drive, but each red light, each slow walker, each tiny delay makes me more anxious. I hate being late.I
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Caroline’s Point of ViewCaroline’s Point of View“You know, I think we make a pretty convincing couple.”I nearly spit out my coffee as I stare at Penelope across the café table. “Excuse me?”She grins, propping her chin on her hand. “I mean, we did go to the kindergarten together, and the admissions officer totally thought we were married.”Penelope stirs her coffee, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You should’ve seen the way that woman was looking at us," she says, shaking her head. "She had the most approving smile I’ve ever seen. I swear, she already decided we were the best lesbian parents in the world."I groan, rubbing my temple. "I knew something was off when she got extra friendly. I mean, she was warm from the start, but then suddenly she was all," I mimic a sweet, gentle tone, ‘It’s so wonderful that you two are raising a child together. It takes so
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Dolly’s Point of ViewThe moment my daughter, Evelyn, walks into the living room, I can tell something is off. She’s hesitating, shifting from foot to foot, her little fingers clenching the hem of her dress. My eyes narrow immediately.“What is it?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.She bites her lip, avoiding my gaze. “Mommy… Liam found out something.”My heart stops for a split second before it slams hard against my ribs.No.I set down my phone, straightening. “What do you mean Liam found out something?” My tone is controlled, but the sharp edge in my voice makes her flinch.Evelyn’s eyes dart to the side, her small hands twisting together. “He… he found out I can’t see colors right.”A sickening dread coils in my stomach.I stand up so fast that my chair scrapes against the marble floor with a sharp screech. “How?” My voice is cold now, demanding.She fidgets under my gaze. “We were coloring in class. He saw that I used the wrong colors and asked me about it. I—I told him to
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
