Knoxx’s Point of View
I stare through the reinforced glass, jaw clenched so tightly it aches.
Dolly sits across from me on the other side of the metal table, wearing that standard-issue orange like it belongs on her. She looks smaller than I remember—shoulders hunched, lips dry, dark circles beneath her eyes. She barely lifts her head when the guard closes the door behind me with a heavy clank.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she mumbles, eyes avoiding mine.
I lean forward, arms braced on the table. “No? You should’ve. You owe me answers.”
Her head finally lifts, and there’s something in her face—guilt, maybe, or shame. I don’t care anymore.
“I don’t have much time,” I snap. “So don’t start with games. I dug into your past.”
She tenses.
Caroline’s Point of ViewI avoid Adrian for two days.I tell him I’m swamped at Hill International—meetings, investor decks, upcoming audits, you name it. And to be fair, some of it is true. I’ve buried myself in numbers, in reports, in logistics that don’t require emotion or trust or instinct. Because those things feel too raw right now. Too unreliable.But work isn’t the reason I stay away.Not really.The truth is, I’ve been replaying every conversation we’ve ever had—every touch, every carefully timed act of kindness, every smile that once felt like safety. I scroll through the archives of our relationship like I’m combing through evidence in a case I never realized I was a witness in.And the file—the footage—won’t leave me alone.That image. Him standing o
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe message arrives after midnight, in the thick hush of the apartment when even the shadows seem asleep.I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, legs curled under me, laptop open but untouched. My fingers hover over the keyboard, still unsure what I’m searching for. Answers? Distractions? Something to drown out the noise building in my head?Then a soft chime.One new email.I glance at the screen. My breath stutters.It’s not from anyone I know.Just a line of numbers—no subject, no greeting. But the sender name reads only one word:Fixer.My stomach knots.This isn’t my secretary. Or Penelope. Or Dad. Only a handful of people even know this account exists. It’s an old, near-dead inbox I used for school back when
Knoxx’s Point of ViewI shouldn’t be here again.Not in this place. Not in this smell of metal and bleach and things no one dares to say out loud. Not in these gray corridors where the walls feel too close, too watchful. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz faintly, flickering like they’re tired of pretending they still work.This is my third visit to this prison. But this time, I’m not here to see Dolly.I’m here to see a ghost she gave a name to.The guard doesn’t ask questions anymore. He just nods once and leads me down the same winding path, his boots echoing against the concrete like a metronome ticking toward something I don’t want to face.They put me in a different room today. Smaller. Dimmer. No window. One table. Two chairs. A camera I pretend not to notice in the corner of the ceiling.
Caroline’s Point of ViewHe shows up without warning.No text. No call. Not even a polite “Are you free?” just to test the waters. Adrian simply appears—like gravity pulled him to me and he decided he didn’t need permission to arrive.I spot him from the second floor lobby through the sleek glass railings. He’s wearing slate-gray slacks, a navy blue button-down, the sleeves casually rolled up like he’s trying to look less perfect, more approachable. One hand grips Liam’s tiny one. The other waves to the receptionist like they’ve been friends for years.Liam is bouncing slightly with excitement as he peers around the lobby, eyes wide like he’s at an amusement park.I feel a mix of emotions all at once. Confusion. Irritation. A strange flicker of guilt. But most of all—a pressure in my chest I can’t name. Somet
Caroline’s Point of ViewPenelope shows up with coffee and that look on her face—the one that says I know you’re not okay, and you can’t lie to me about it.She walks into my house like she owns the place, kicking off her heels and tossing her purse on the armrest. “You look like someone who hasn’t slept in a week,” she says, handing me the extra-large cup with extra syrup and extra foam—my guilty favorite.“Thanks,” I mutter, sinking into the couch.She studies me for a beat. “So? Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are we going to sit here and pretend you’ve suddenly developed a mysterious eye twitch and chronic insomnia?”I try to smile. “It’s nothing.”Penelope scoffs. “Caroline. Please.”I hesitate, then let out
Caroline’s Point of ViewI don’t sleep.I lie in bed for hours, eyes wide open, watching the shadows move across the ceiling. Every time I blink, I see Knoxx.Not the Knoxx from years ago. Not the arrogant, untouchable man I fell in love with and hated just as deeply. But this Knoxx—the one who knelt in my office, trembling, his voice breaking as he said Liam was his.Liam is mine.Three words. That’s all it took to crack the world I’ve carefully rebuilt.I want to scream.I want to go back in time.I want to change everything.But it’s too late.I roll over, pushing the blanket down to my waist. The sheets are warm, but I’m cold. Freezing. Because there’s a hollow inside me now that wasn’t there yesterday.And I don’t know