Serena’s POVEster picks up the necklace, her eyes gleaming as she studies the details.“It’s incredible, Serena,” she says, turning the piece over in her hands. “The design, the colors — it’s exactly what I was hoping for.”Hearing that kind of praise from Ester Paige, Academy Award nominee, feels
Bill’s POVThe last thing I expect is to see Serena’s name flash across my phone screen.I pick up, half-expecting her to give me some update about work or, if I’m lucky, to just check in. But her voice on the other end sounds hesitant, almost awkward, like she’s not used to whatever she’s about to
Serena’s POVI swear, the second I walk through Bill’s door, I realize I might have signed myself up for an ambush.There’s a whole team of people buzzing around like I’m the main attraction. Tables full of makeup brushes, rollers, and a million hair tools take over the room, and racks of gowns I on
Bill’s POVWhen Serena steps out, time stops.I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this. The second she emerges from behind the screen, the room falls completely silent. Serena stands there, looking both stunning and unsure, her gaze sweeping over all of us, waiting for some kind of reaction. She’s
Serena’s POVThe first person I see on the red carpet is Ester, and when she spots me, her face lights up like she’s won already.“Serena! Look at you!” she gushes, pulling me into a quick, tight hug. “You look amazing.”I barely manage to stammer out a “thank you,” feeling a little flustered and de
Bill’s POVThe afterparty is chaos. Glancing around the room, I spot half a dozen celebrities losing their minds. A few feet away, Seth Rogen is laughing way too loudly at something Dave Chappelle just said. Doja Cat is dancing on top of a table, drink in hand. I shake my head with a smirk. Oscars
Serena’s POVThe drive home is quiet, but it’s not awkward—it’s the kind of quiet that lets everything from the night sink in. My head's still spinning from the party, the lights, the noise, and the fact that we were even there. It feels surreal.Stevie is passed out next to me, slumped against the
Bill’s POVI stand in front of the training dummy, hands clenched into fists, eyes locked on the target. It's been too long since I’ve been in the ring. Running Pinnacle AI has taken up most of my life these days, and while I’m good at what I do, I’ve missed this. Missed the way training clears my h
Serena’s POVStevie’s apartment smells like fresh paint and coffee, an oddly comforting combination that suits her. The space is small, cluttered with photography equipment and stacks of unopened baby gear, but it feels like her. It’s messy and lived-in, nothing like Calvin’s sterile penthouse.I kn
Calvin’s POVThe penthouse feels bigger now, emptier. It’s strange how silence can take up so much space, filling every corner and amplifying the absence of things you didn’t realize you depended on.Stevie’s laughter used to echo in this place, sharp and unfiltered, bouncing off the marble floors l
Serena’s POVThe room hums with energy, the kind of buzz that comes from a carefully curated crowd of media, industry insiders, and investors. Cameras flash as I step onto the stage, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The Etoile de Collin logo glows behind me, larger than life, and for a
Stevie’s POVThe smell of my old apartment hits me as soon as I walk in — a mix of stale coffee, forgotten photo chemicals, and the faintest whiff of lavender from a candle I never finished burning. It’s not the penthouse, that’s for damn sure. No floor-to-ceiling windows or marble countertops here
Serena’s POVThe soft morning light filters through the kitchen windows as I stare down at my cup of tea. Bill is standing across from me, obliviously humming some tune while buttering a slice of toast. He looks so relaxed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and I’m over here trying not to sp
Stevie’s POVThe magazine is on the coffee table, taunting me like it knows it hit a nerve.The headline? Calvin Lancaster’s Baby Mama: Meet the Woman Who Stole the Billionaire’s Heart.The article? A mix of lies, half-truths, and one semi-decent photo of me that I’m 90% sure they pulled from Calvin
Serena’s POVThe champagne flute in my hand feels more like a prop than a drink. I swirl the bubbly liquid absentmindedly, smiling and nodding as the CFO of Etoile de Collin drones on about quarterly projections. Usually, I’d be all over this conversation, asking questions, offering insights. Tonig
Calvin’s POVThe tension in the boardroom feels alive, crackling in the air like static electricity. Every seat is filled, every face turned toward me, waiting for what I’ll say. Nathan sits at the far end of the table, leaning back with that same smug expression he always wears when he thinks he’s
Calvin’s POVThe morning starts like any other. Coffee, emails, reviewing a few documents before diving into back-to-back meetings. But by mid-morning, Maria bursts into my office without knocking, her face pale.“You need to see this,” she says, handing me her tablet.I take it, already bracing for