It can’t be easy growing up under the bright spotlight that comes with having two famous Hollywood actors for parents.
To put it mildly, Dylan Michael and Carys Zeta Douglas, the daughters of Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones, will probably never lack anything, even though there are undoubtedly worse places to be born.
The media has been keenly observing Dylan and Carys’s growth, with many speculating about whether they will emulate their well-known parents and achieve fame of their own.
At least it appears that we finally have a solution for Carys.
Zeta-Jones has been open about her expectations that her two children would try to follow her into the big screen.
“You want to look at them when they’re on stage,” the 49-year-old said in an interview with Hello! Magazine. They’re interested in the craft as well. My son wants to study theater for his bachelor’s degree. My daughter thought that being an actress would be a better career than being a pediatrician until she was five years old.
Since both of the kids wish to follow in their parents’ footsteps, a lot of people are interested in seeing how the two kids grow. For those who require further proof, the recent excitement around Carys—who has been receiving a lot of attention due to the fact that she is starting to resemble her mother more and more every day—is adequate.
When the teenage girl made her runway debut at New York Fashion Week the previous year, she generated a lot of attention.
She has been under the radar ever since, which makes sense considering that she is only 15 years old. But when she and her mother attended another fashion event this week, the radio quiet was broken.
Carys and Catherine stole the show at the Dolce & Gabbana Alta Moda women’s couture event held at the New York Metropolitan Opera House. When the mother and daughter showed up dressed same, they posed for multiple pictures that highlighted their similarity.
Like her mother, Carys is definitely becoming into a lovely woman. Moreover, according on all accounts, her disposition is equally benevolent!
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I Found Tiny Childrens Shoes on My Late Husbands Grave Every Time I Visited, Their Secret Changed My Life
When Ellen visits Paul’s grave, seeking solace, she’s puzzled by the sight of children’s shoes resting on his headstone. At first, she dismisses it, assuming it’s a mistake by another grieving family. But as more shoes appear over time, the mystery deepens. Determined to understand, Ellen eventually catches the person responsible—and her life changes in an instant.
The first time I saw the shoes, I thought someone had made a mistake. A small pair of blue sneakers lay beside Paul’s headstone, neatly arranged as if left with intention. I figured a grieving parent had misplaced them. People do strange things when they mourn—I know I did. After Paul passed away in a sudden accident, I spent an entire week making jam that I knew I’d never eat. It was the only thing that made me feel like I was doing something, anything.
But those shoes were different. They didn’t belong, and I moved them aside before placing my flowers by Paul’s grave. It wasn’t until my next visit that I noticed something unusual: there were more shoes. This time, tiny red rain boots. Then, during another visit, I found dark green sneakers. It was too deliberate to be random. And it didn’t make sense. Paul and I never had children. I tried to convince myself it was a mistake—a grieving parent finding comfort in placing shoes at the wrong grave—but deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
As the shoes multiplied with each visit, it felt like an invisible hand was pulling at the fragile threads of peace I had stitched together. Frustrated, I stopped visiting for a while, hoping that by staying away, the shoes would disappear. They didn’t. Instead, they kept coming. When I finally returned, six pairs of children’s shoes stood in a neat row beside Paul’s headstone, like a haunting tribute I couldn’t comprehend.
My sadness turned into anger. Who was doing this? Was this some cruel joke?
Then, one cold morning, I finally saw her. She was crouched beside the grave, gently placing a pair of small brown sandals next to the growing collection. Her long, dark hair swayed in the breeze as she carefully arranged them, her movements slow and purposeful.
“Hey! You!” I yelled, charging toward her, the flowers I had brought slipping from my grasp, forgotten.
She flinched but didn’t run. Instead, she stood slowly, dusting off her coat before turning to face me. That’s when my breath caught in my throat.
It was Maya—Paul’s old secretary. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since she abruptly left her job. She had always been warm and cheerful, but the woman standing before me now seemed burdened with a sorrow I recognized all too well.
“Maya?” I whispered, the disbelief heavy in my voice.
She nodded, her eyes red with unshed tears. Without a word, she reached into her coat pocket and handed me a worn photograph. My hands shook as I took it, my heart pounding in my chest.
It was a picture of Paul, smiling down at a baby boy cradled in his arms.
“His name is Oliver,” Maya said softly. “He’s Paul’s son.”
I stumbled backward, the world spinning as the weight of her words sank in. My husband, the man I thought I knew so well, had lived a secret life—with a child.
“You and Paul were…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Maya nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never wanted to hurt you. But after Paul’s accident, Oliver started asking about his dad. I told him Paul was watching over him, and every time Oliver gets a new pair of shoes, he asks me to bring the old ones to his daddy.”
The shoes… they were a child’s way of staying connected to the father he had lost.
I wanted to scream, to demand answers from a man who could no longer give them. But standing there, staring at the shoes left behind by a little boy who would never know his father, I felt my anger start to melt into something else—something softer.
Maya looked at me with guilt etched on her face. “I’ll stop bringing the shoes. I never meant to upset you.”
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