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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Caroline's Point of ViewThe next morning, I enter the store taking a deep breath. I brace myself for any chaos the day might bring. The bell above the door rings as I walk in. The familiar smell of polished wood, velvet displays, and faint perfume welcomes me. Warm lights cast a soft glow on the arranged jewelry making everything glitter.It's early, but some customers already look at the displays. This is a good sign. Sales have gone up , and I know why."Ah, la mia bella donna finalmente arriva."I have time to turn before I hear Alessandro's smooth, teasing voice. I look over and see him standing by the counter leaning on it with the kind of easy confidence he can pull off. His dark brown hair looks a bit messy—on purpose, I bet—and his sharp features show a relaxed amused expression."Alessandro," I sigh putting my bag down behind the counter. "You're here .""For you? Always." He puts a hand on his chest like he's touched. "Plus, my dear Caroline how could I skip any chance to s
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
Caroline’s Point of ViewI hesitate for a moment before knocking on Liam’s bedroom door, the soft sound barely audible in the quiet hallway. My fingers tighten slightly against the wood as I wait for a response. When none comes, I push the door open gently, peeking inside.Liam is curled up on his bed, his small frame illuminated by the glow of his nightlight. The soft, star-shaped light casts a faint pattern against the walls, a comforting presence in an otherwise heavy atmosphere.He doesn’t look at me when I enter.Instead, he stares at the ceiling, his brows furrowed in deep thought, his little hands gripping the blanket tightly. The sight makes my chest ache. I know that look—I’ve worn it too many times myself.Something is eating at him.I take a slow step forward, keeping my voice gentle. “Hey, buddy,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Uncle Adrian said you came home upset today. Want to talk about it?”Liam’s reaction is immediate. His small shoulders tense, and he shake
Caroline’s Point of ViewAs expected, Adrian’s entire demeanor shifts the moment his gaze lands on Alessandro. His usual cool confidence falters just enough for me to notice—the sharp furrow of his brows, the slight clench of his jaw, the way his shoulders stiffen like he’s bracing himself for something.Jealousy.It hums in the air between us, subtle but unmistakable.He steps forward, his movements controlled but laced with something tense, something taut and restrained. “Who’s this?” His voice is steady, but there’s a bite to it, a careful edge that makes my stomach flutter for reasons I don’t want to analyze too deeply.Alessandro, ever the charming one, doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. He offers a small smile, tilting his head as he introduces himself. “Alessandro Luca Romano,” he says smoothly, his Italian accent thick and effortless. “Caroline’s newest employee.”I can practically feel the heat of Adrian’s gaze as he shifts his attention to me, questioning, searching for somet
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
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
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
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.