Andy Knight II

Maci 💋 My POV September 12, 2026 Aspen, Colorado We got home a little after 2:00 this morning. And Edgar wasn't here. That surprised me. His phone is apparently dead because I can't see his location. Yes. I track the Collins family. Don't judge me. Jenny does it too, and I'm pretty sure Spencer knows where Edgar is approximately every second of every day. Those two share everything. My guess? He may have gone to Salt Lake City to see Spencer. If he did, I'm not ruining the surprise by asking questions. And if he didn't, I'll eventually find out where our wandering CEO disappeared to. Now... The party. 😂 There were about eight girls and five guys, mostly 20–22. Which made me one of the old girls. I'm 24. I don't appreciate this development. There was drinking, but nothing crazy. Honestly, the girls required absolutely no chemical assistance to behave badly. Ducky wore her duck dress. And I'm going to say something I never expected to write: Ava looked hot. It was this tiny, feminine, almost babydoll-style dress that somehow still looked completely like her. Probably the most daring thing I've ever seen her wear. The dress was a hit. So was Ava. She just didn't realize why. Kristin went completely different—very chic, very fashion-girl, almost the kind of outfit women appreciate more than men. Except apparently nobody explained that to the men. They noticed. I wore a halter top and shorts. Cute. Simple. Enough. Eventually everyone ended up swimming and soaking in the hot tub. And I have to give those boys credit. Their ability to maintain eye contact and form complete sentences while surrounded by eight wet women was occasionally impressive. Occasionally. One of the 22-year-olds decided he had a chance with me. I let him flirt. It was fun. I understand Spencer a little better now. There's something enjoyable about being flirted with when nobody is pretending it has to become anything. Unfortunately, attraction only carries a man so far with me. Make me think. Make me laugh. Preferably make me laugh because you're clever enough to see something everyone else missed. He wasn't stupid. He just wasn't quite handsome enough to compensate for the intellectual gap. 😂 I'm terrible. But at least I'm self-aware. Ava was much more entertaining. Two different guys were trying so hard to get her alone. "Have you seen Brenda's game room?" Ava: "Yes! It's really nice." That wasn't what he meant. Later another one tried: "Want to get out of here for a while?" Ava looked genuinely confused. "No, I'm still talking to Abbie." I had to turn away. I honestly couldn't tell whether she had absolutely no idea what they were doing or knew exactly what they were doing and simply wasn't interested. With Ava, either answer is possible. At one point Kristin leaned over and whispered, "She's destroying them." Without even trying. That's our Ducky. 🦆 We finally got home after 2:00. I was convinced I would sleep until noon. Apparently nobody informed my brain. My eyes opened this morning and that was it. Wide awake. I was wrapped around a pillow like it was another human being, which suggests either I had some very interesting dreams or my subconscious is getting tired of sleeping alone. I'm choosing dreams. I wandered downstairs looking like something that had survived a small natural disaster and made an espresso. Then I took it outside. Aspen just before sunrise is different. No noise yet. Cold mountain air. That first light coming over the peaks. Steam coming off my cup. For about ten minutes I didn't do anything. I didn't check messages. Didn't wonder where Edgar was. Didn't think about school, medicine, the kids, Ava's next attack or what we're doing tonight. I just sat there. That may have been my favorite part of the morning. Then I decided espresso wasn't enough. Cold plunge. Terrible decision. Excellent decision. I got in, immediately questioned every choice that had led me there, stayed anyway, then climbed straight into the hot tub. Cold. Hot. Cold again. Hot again. By the second round I was finally becoming a functioning human. Espresso number two finished the job. Okay. Now I'm awake. Weights today. Ava says she's meeting me in the gym. Which means one of two things: She genuinely wants to work out with me... or there is a rubber duck somewhere in that gym waiting to ruin my morning. I've learned not to underestimate Ducky. Especially when she's smiling. - Maci 💋 #MyPOV Video by #Grok and me. I asked for lady like legs. Grok gave us frog legs. We’re cute, I promise. Just less amphibious in person. @enchantedhottie @FunAva007 @AnaDivincienzo @kristin_md2b @mjcromwell01 @Susan_B_PhD @jennyDmond @thonlymiamonroe @seanachiejimK @TravisNei @WeHaveHope231 @TheTigreTwins @Jagsfan67 @JenneCameron @danielthedadtn @AlvinMaxMaxwell @AndyKnightII @Tattdwolf52

Maci 💋 My POV July 30, 2026 Jackson, Wyoming | Hayes Ranch The morning after, I almost feel sorry for Brock. Almost. He really is giving life everything he’s got. It’s just that somewhere between the design phase and final assembly, a few essential pieces never quite made it under the hood. Ana left about 30 minutes before he arrived. She wanted to be with Sierra the moment Brock’s Mustang disappeared down the ranch drive. My security team had already walked every location we might visit. Entrances. Exits. Parking lots. Blind corners. Places where a conversation could become something else. Spencer had warned me that Brock was possessive, but she had never known him to become violent with her. His background check showed several fights with other men, each one involving alcohol. So I was not frightened. I was prepared. With what Ana told me, I knew Brock could not be allowed to explain this away as one meaningless kiss or a confused moment with a stranger. He needed to believe Bella (me) wanted him. Sierra needed to see that he was not being pulled into anything. He was choosing it eagerly, repeatedly, and in public. So I played the part. If I was going to sell the story, I had to kiss him like I had been waiting for it all day. Stay just a little too close. Let my hand linger on his arm. Laugh a beat longer at his "profound humor". Make him think every sentence he spoke was fascinating. Basically, Netflix After Dark, starring a woman with a very specific mission. My private mantra never changed: Expose him. Help Sierra. Make our Queen proud. Not exactly the sort of affirmation you’d find in a mindfulness app, but it got the job done. When Brock arrived, he was almost sweet. He told me he had been looking forward to seeing me all day. He looked genuinely proud of the Mustang, and even more pleased with the fact that I was sitting inside it wearing Spencer's dress. Then he took me to the auto shop where he works. He showed me the lifts, the tool chests, the equipment, and several things I apparently could not possibly understand without a man explaining them slowly. He was proud of his ability, and he should be. He is talented with machines. He also assumed I was an idiot. I smiled and nodded. There is a freedom in being underestimated. People stop editing themselves around you. At the restaurant, he did not pull out my chair. Edgar would have. I noticed that immediately, which is probably unfair. Edgar has ruined normal male behavior for several women and remains completely unaware of the damage. We sat down, and Brock resumed the long story he had begun during our first dinner. The story of Brock. His work. His cars. His body. His plans. His conspiracy theories. His certainty that the evening was moving toward the conclusion he had already written and I had alluded to. I gave him enough encouragement to become bolder. At one point, after a kiss, I heard Sierra gasp from somewhere behind me. It was small, but sharp enough that I thought she might walk across the restaurant and end the operation. Ana kept her seated. Barely. Then we went to the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar. A first thing for me. I learned immediately that women do not generally wear dresses like mine there. Everyone else looked ready to dance in their cowboy hats. I looked like the decorative cherry placed on top of cream pie. Brock did not notice anyone at the bar watching. He had become completely focused on what he believed the night promised him. The band was loud. The room was crowded. Phones were already everywhere. It was exactly public enough. I checked that Ana and Sierra were in position. Then I gave the final performance everything it needed. I let Brock pull me close. Let him think the attention was affecting me. Let him believe he had succeeded. That part required surprisingly little effort from me. He was very willing to come on to me, again and again. Then Sierra charged onto the scene. She called him a cheater in front of the bar. The band stopped play. People turned. Several phones came out immediately. My security team was close, but Brock never became threatening. He looked caught, confused, and almost offended that reality had interrupted the evening he had planned. His entire defense seemed to begin with: “Hey, I didn’t…. It didn't mean...” He never found the rest. I have to give Brock one thing. He remained remarkably calm for a man watching three different versions of his life meet each other under stage lighting. Sierra was magnificent. Angry, yes. Hurt, absolutely. But not fragile. She confronted him directly, said what she needed to say, and did not let him rearrange the truth while she stood there. I stepped back and gave my finest expression of innocent shock. Oscar, please return my call. Ana stood behind us smiling like a woman whose art project had finally become interactive. The three of us left together. Brock remained in the bar, surrounded by strangers holding phones, looking as though someone had changed the rules after he had already declared himself the winner. We stayed awake talking with Sierra for hours. Not telling her she should have known. Not asking how she missed it. Explaining that men like Brock are often easiest to understand after you stop listening to what they promise and begin watching what they repeatedly choose. Today, one of my bodyguards will accompany her while she collects her belongings. Sierra also has a plan to make sure other girls at school know what happened. She does not want anyone else mistaking Brock’s attention for something safer than it is. At one point she looked at me and said, “I watched you kiss him. I thought you were into him.” I laughed. “No. That was acting.” She stared at me for a moment. “You were really convincing.” I decided not to explain that this was not the compliment my week needed. There is something I wish every girl could learn before experience teaches it painfully: Attention is not devotion. Desire is not respect. And being intensely wanted does not mean you are being truly seen. Some men will make you feel chosen when what they have actually chosen is access. The difference becomes obvious when you say no, ask for patience, need tenderness, or require them to care about the person attached to the body they want. Watch what happens then. That is usually where the truth lives. --- It was forty-seven degrees this morning. I bundled up and ran anyway. I needed the cold air. The silence. The steady rhythm of my feet while my mind replayed the night and slowly put everything back into its proper place. Today, Jenny is free to meet. I am curious how much of last night has already traveled through Jackson. Small towns have many gifts. Privacy is not one of them. - Maci 💋 Video by #Grok and me. I did my best to recreate the scene accurately. I didn’t include all of Brock’s advances or every hand placement. I’ll give him this though… Brock is a pretty good kisser. To bad he has to talk. #RelationshipAdvice #HealthyRelationships #KnowYourWorth #EmotionalIntelligence #RedFlags #Storytime @enchantedhottie @FunAva007 @AnaDivincienzo @kristin_md2b @mjcromwell01 @Susan_B_PhD @jennyDmond @seanachiejimK @TravisNei @WeHaveHope231 @TheTigreTwins @Jagsfan67 @JenneCameron @danielthedadtn @AlvinMaxMaxwell @AndyKnightII @Tattdwolf52