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Chapter 92
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2025-02-05 08:00:00Caroline’s Point of View
The 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?&r
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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 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
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Dolly’s Point of ViewI sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the crib where my daughter sleeps. Her breathing is soft but uneven, and every tiny movement she makes sends a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over me.The doctors said she was weak, that she needed constant monitoring, that she was born fragile. She has a sickle cell anemia. It is a kind of genetic blood disorder.My hands tremble as I reach out, brushing a delicate curl away from her forehead. She looks so peaceful now, but earlier—earlier, she had screamed for hours, her little body wracked with pain I couldn't soothe.Tears well up in my eyes, and I blink rapidly, willing them away. Then, my mind goes to Knoxx.It’s been months, and still, he hasn’t said a word about marriage. Not even an empty promise. Nothing.The humiliation burns in my chest. Everyone assumes we’re already married. They call me his wife, the mother of his child, but he never corrects them, never claims me as his. He never denies it either, but that
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Knoxx’s Point of ViewI sit at the end of a long dining table and hold my glass tightly to withstand the toast being offered to me. The room is warm with chatter, laughter, glasses clinking, and the murmured praise of people who think they know me, who think they understand my life."You are one lucky man," says one of the senior executives, swirling the wine in his glass. "What a beautiful and talented wife, with a successful career of her own! If you ever needed proof of being blessed, you have it all."I don't bother correcting him immediately. I have done it far too many times tonight. Each time I state that Dolly is not my wife and that we are not married, I open up opportunities for more questions, more insinuations.“Dolly’s not my wife,” I say, my voice even, controlled. “She’s a business partner.”“Come on, Knoxx,” another man says with a laugh. “She just had your baby. She practically is your wife.”I tighten my jaw and say nothing. There’s no reason to answer.Out of the co
Secret Billionaire Divorcee Chapter 98
Caroline’s Point of ViewAdrian stops precisely in front of my building and at that exact moment, I'm still making last-minute stipulations for Liam's hair: smoothing down those little tufts that refuse to stay in place. He squiggles impatiently in my arms, craning his neck when he hears the warm familiar hum of Adrian's car.“Uncle Adrian!” he squeals, trying to launch himself out of my hold the moment I open the door.Adrian steps out, a grin on his face as he effortlessly catches Liam mid-air. “Hey, buddy. Excited for your big day?”Liam nods enthusiastically. “Mama says I get to go to a big-kid school!”I chuckle, adjusting the strap of my purse. “It’s just the interview, sweetheart. We have to see if they like you first.”Adrian winks at Liam. “What’s not to like? You’re the smartest kid I know.”Liam beams, clearly pleased, and I shake my head as I get into the car. As soon as we’re all buckled in, Adrian glances at me. “Nervous?”I let out a breath. “A little. I really want thi
Secret Billionaire Divorcee Chapter 97
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
