Page 19 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Nineteen

The Promise

The city lights sparkled against the dark glass of the penthouse windows, but Lyric’s reflection in the mirror held her attention.

She stood quietly, the delicate gold locket resting against her collarbone.

The chain had long since lost its shine, but the small golden heart still gleamed faintly in the soft bedroom light.

Her fingers brushed over it absently, as if touching the memory of her mother.

Behind her, her father’s cardigan lay folded on the bed—the knit soft, comforting, still holding the faint scent of home.

It always felt like a hug when she needed one.

These are the only pieces of my family I have left, she thought.

Everything else has changed. Including me.

In the mirror, the woman staring back looked polished, elegant, powerful.

But she felt like a stranger.

I’ve lost who I am. Or maybe I never really knew.

The soft click of the front door broke her thoughts.

“Lyric?”

Kai’s voice carried across the penthouse.

Late again .

Usually, she would have run to meet him.

Tonight, she stayed rooted by the mirror.

Moments later, Kai appeared in the doorway. His jacket was draped over one arm, shirt sleeves rolled back to his forearms, hair tousled from the wind.

His brow furrowed the moment he saw her.

“You didn’t meet me at the door.”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said quietly.

“About what?”

He crossed the room, setting his jacket aside. His gaze flicked to the locket at her throat, then back to her eyes.

“I love you, Kai,” Lyric began, “but I’ve been feeling... lost.”

She gestured around them—the sleek marble floors, the velvet drapes, the towering windows that revealed a glittering skyline.

“This is all beautiful. But none of it feels like mine. I’m Kai Thorn’s partner. That’s who everyone sees. That’s all they see.”

Kai’s jaw tightened slightly.

“They see someone extraordinary. And they should.”

“But it’s not enough.”

She picked up her sketchbook from the counter where she’d left it the night before.

Drawings filled the pages—elegant silhouettes, swirls of fabric, ideas that had once only existed in her imagination.

“This is all I have left of who I used to be. I’ve always sketched. But I don’t know how to sew. I don’t know how to make any of this real.”

Kai took the sketchbook from her hands and flipped through the pages slowly.

His eyes softened with something between admiration and surprise.

“These are incredible, Lyric.”

“They’re just drawings,” she whispered.

“No.”

He closed the book carefully.

“You don’t need to learn how to sew. I can hire the best seamstresses. You choose the fabrics and the designs. They’ll bring them to life. ”

Lyric smiled sadly.

“And then what? I just have a closet full of dresses?”

Kai blinked, caught off guard by her response.

“That’s not what I want,” she continued. “I want something that’s mine. A purpose. A reason to get out of bed every morning. I thought... maybe designing could be that.”

For the first time, Kai didn’t immediately offer a solution.

He stepped back, thinking.

Then— “What if I got you a boutique?”

Lyric froze.

“A boutique?”

“A real one.” His voice gained confidence as the idea formed. “A place to sell your designs. Not just wear them. I can have a team handle the production, the business side. You’ll create. That’s all you’ll need to do.”

Her heart raced.

“You would really do that?”

“I told you before,” Kai said, cupping her face in his hands, “I can make anything happen in this city. Give me a day. I’ll figure it out.”

Lyric exhaled, the weight she’d carried for weeks lifting slightly.

“Thank you.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Kai murmured against her hair. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

His arms tightened around her.

And in that moment, Lyric felt hope blooming where there had only been emptiness.

She didn’t realize—

He wasn’t just giving her purpose.

He was giving her another reason not to leave.

---

The next morning.

She woke up alone. Again .

Sunlight spilled across the marble floors, casting soft golden streaks through the towering windows.

But instead of warmth, it brought a sterile chill. Too perfect. Too still.

The sheets beside her were cool.

Kai had already left, like he always did—but not without a kiss.

Every morning before he left for work, he’d lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. Lingering just long enough to make her stir, but never enough to fully wake her.

A whisper of affection she never got to hold onto. Gone before she opened her eyes.

She remembered Kai’s promise, but a part of her didn’t expect it to come true. It felt too good to be real.

That raw, hollow feeling stirred in her chest again—the ache of something missing.

Like she’d been left behind, floating in a life that didn’t feel like hers.

She rolled onto her side, pulling the covers tighter around her.

The faint trace of Kai’s cologne still clung to the pillow.

It once felt like waking up inside a dream.

Now it felt like waking up inside a memory.

She sat up slowly, the silk of her nightgown whispering against her skin.

The room was breathtaking—gilded mirrors, velvet chairs, chandeliers dripping with light.

But none of it mattered when you felt like a ghost in your own life.

She padded barefoot into the kitchen.

The penthouse was quiet. Always quiet.

Thomas had already come and gone, leaving her favorite coffee waiting on the counter.

Her exact order. Still warm.

She hadn’t asked for it. She hadn’t asked for much lately.

She took a sip and leaned against the marble counter, staring out at the endless skyline.

Below, cars crept through veins of pavement .

People on their way somewhere. People with purpose.

And her?

She just waited.

Day after day.

For the sound of the door.

For Kai’s smile.

For something to make her feel real again.

She wandered the apartment as she always did.

Bare feet silent against the cold stone floors.

Past the boutique closet she never touched.

Past the spa bathroom she rarely used.

Past the reading nook stacked with books she hadn’t opened.

She had memorized every detail of this place. Counted the tiles in the hallway. Watched dust gather on untouched wine glasses.

Today, she had already rearranged the same vase three times just to do something.

This wasn’t a vacation.

It wasn’t a life.

It was a cage lined in velvet.

Her stomach twisted.

Kai had given her everything.

And in doing so, he’d taken something too.

Her schedule.

Her goals.

Her fire.

Her voice.

She still craved him—his hands, his mouth, the way he could strip her bare with a look.

But she was beginning to realize: Being desired wasn’t the same as being whole.

Her gaze drifted to the kitchen counter where she’d left her sketchbook the night before.

It sat untouched beneath the morning light.

She crossed the room, fingers trembling slightly as she lifted it .

The pages fell open—designs she barely remembered drawing.

Gowns. Jackets. Corsets. Lace-lined fantasies.

Pencil lines that once pulsed with hunger and hope. Designs that had lived in her fingertips long before she ever felt Kai’s.

Her throat tightened. Tears stung her eyes—not for him.

For her.

She ran her hand gently across the page, tracing the delicate curve of a collarbone she had once imagined herself.

“Maybe it’s just a hobby,” she whispered.

She remembered Kai’s promise.

But it seemed impossible.

Yes, he was powerful. Yes, he could make things happen.

But this? This felt too big. Too much of a dream.

“Maybe tonight,” she thought, “I’ll bring it up again. I hate to sound desperate, but I have to know if he was serious.”

---

Her phone rang.

She grabbed it quickly, expecting Rowan—or Velora.

“Hi, beautiful,” Kai’s voice was warm and bright. “I’ll be home late tonight. I need to finish arranging a few things.”

“Arranging?”

“The boutique.”

“I’ve rented a storefront. Fifth Avenue. Renovations are starting. I’ve got a team already. Tomorrow morning, you’ll meet with them and visit the fabric district. And I’ve hired you an assistant—her name’s Callie. She’ll meet you first thing.”

Lyric froze.

“You... you really did it?”

“Of course I did.”

“I told you. I can make anything happen in this city.”

The excitement hit her like a spark catching dry tinder.

She wanted to jump. To laugh. To throw her arms in the air like a child.

Instead, she pressed a hand to her chest, forcing herself to breathe slowly .

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Kai teased. “Tomorrow’s only the beginning.”

As the call ended, Lyric set the phone down gently.

The hollow ache she’d woken with melted away, replaced by something new.

Hope.

Maybe this was real after all.

Maybe this was her chance to become herself again.