Page 141 of Bound By Crimson
She offered to help arrange flowers in the parlor.
She praised the vintage lace curtains Mrs. Thornwick had personally selected.
She laughed softly at her jokes. She nodded when spoken to.
She asked questions she didn’t care about, listened to answers she didn’t believe.
And the whole time—her insides coiled tighter.
It wasn’t just the effort.
It was the surrender.
The game she now had to play.
But she did it. For Kai. For her baby. For the life she was desperate to hold onto.
Every time Mrs. Thornwick smiled, Lyric forced herself to smile back.
Every approving tilt of the older woman’s head made her bow hers a little lower.
It made her sick.
But she swallowed it.
And when she returned to her room that night, alone and exhausted, she didn’t cry.
She just stood at the window, staring into the blackness, and whispered,
“Please let this be enough.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Flicker and Fade
Lyric had been preparing for his return since sunrise. He was gone longer than a few days—ten, to be exact.
New Year’s Eve had come and gone. Last year they’d spent it at a lavish party, where she felt radiant, wanted—like his entire world. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wanted that feeling back.
She chose the soft wine-colored dress—fitted, elegant, stretching softly over the curve of her belly—one of the few things that still made her feel beautiful.
She brushed out her hair, letting it fall the way he liked it. And after a moment’s hesitation, she applied lipstick. A deeper red than usual. Her hand trembled slightly as she did it.
She hadn’t worn lipstick since the boutique closed.
The maid had asked if she wanted dinner in the sitting room or the dining hall. Lyric chose the dining hall. She asked them to light a few candles. Just a few. Enough to make it feel warm. Inviting.
Like something she remembered from a better time.
She was seated at the table when the clock struck seven.
Then eight.
Then almost nine.
The food was already cold when the door finally opened.
Kai stepped in, coat draped over his shoulder, collar slightly askew. He looked tired, yes—but not drained the way she expected. Just… distant.
