Все главы Secret Billionaire Divorcee: Глава 281 - Глава 290

Caroline's Point of View The bail hearing was a nightmare of legal procedures and cold fluorescent lights, but somehow Knoxx's lawyer managed to get him released on a million-dollar bond. Assault charges against a philanthropist, even a fake one, carry weight in the court system. But he's free. For now. I drive through downtown with Liam buckled in the backseat, heading toward the address Knoxx texted me this morning. He said he needed to "take care of something" before we could meet to discuss our next steps. Legal strategy. Safe house arrangements. All the practical details of a life that's spiraling completely out of control. The address leads me to a part of town I don't recognize. Small shops with hand-painted signs, narrow streets lined with cars that have seen better decades. It's the kind of neighborhood where people mind their own business and ask few questions. Perfect

Caroline's Point of View The video of me throwing champagne at Adrian has been viewed two million times in the past twenty-four hours. #ChampagneCaroline is trending on Twitter. The society pages are calling it either "the most epic takedown in New York history" or "a disturbing display of instability," depending on which publication you read. I don't care about any of it. What I care about is the custody hearing that was mysteriously postponed "pending further review." What I care about is the fact that Adrian's lawyers haven't called to drop the charges as promised. What I care about is that my son keeps asking why everyone looks so sad. "Can we do something fun today?" Liam asks, tugging on my sleeve as I scroll through my phone, looking for any news about the legal situation. "Like really fun?" I look up from the screen to find him watching me with those serious brown eyes&md

Knoxx's Point of View The knock at the door comes at eight-thirty in the evening, just as Caroline is finishing the dishes from our perfect day. Liam is already asleep, exhausted from pirate adventures and sugar crashes, and I'm in the living room setting up the new goldfish tank we somehow acquired. "I'll get it," I call, but something stops me cold when I check the security monitor. Standing on the other side of the door, looking exactly as dignified as I remember despite the years that have passed, is Mason Hartwell. The Wayne family butler who helped raise Adrian and me. The man who disappeared without a word right after my father's funeral, saying he couldn't bear to work for either of us. "Knoxx? Who is it?" Caroline calls from the kitchen. I can't answer immediately. Just stare at the screen like I'm seeing a ghost. "Mason," I finally manage, my voice

Caroline's Point of ViewI find Mason sitting alone in the Plaza Hotel's tearoom, staring out the window at Central Park with the same haunted expression he wore last night. The leather diary sits closed on the table beside his untouched cup of Earl Grey."Miss Caroline," he says without looking up when I approach. "I wondered when you might come."I slide into the chair across from him, my hands trembling slightly. "Mason, I need your help. After what you told us last night about Margaret's murder... about Karen poisoning her... Adrian is going to destroy everything. He's already started—Knoxx's company is under attack, there have been 'accidents' at his building. I'm terrified about what he'll do to Liam."Mason finally meets my eyes, and what I see there isn't the gentle concern I expected. It's something deeper. Sadder."I'm afraid I've already done more damage than help, my dear.""What do you mean?"He opens the diary again, turning to a page near the back that he didn't read fr

Caroline's Point of View The sterile white of the hospital room feels like a prison. I've been sitting in this uncomfortable plastic chair for six hours, watching machines monitor Knoxx's vital signs with electronic beeps that have become the soundtrack to my worst nightmare. The surgery lasted three hours. Three hours of pacing the waiting room, clutching Liam against my chest while he dozed fitfully, my mind replaying that terrible moment when the knife slid between Knoxx's ribs like it was cutting through butter. "The blade missed the major organs," Dr. Patterson had explained afterward, his scrubs still stained with Knoxx's blood. "But there was significant internal bleeding. We've repaired the damage, but the next twenty-four hours are critical." Critical. Such a clinical word for the space between having everything and losing it all. Now, in the dim light of the recovery ro