Page 28 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Cost of Love

Outside, the city moved on without her. The boutique, though empty, felt like it was holding its breath.

Lyric stood in the doorway, clutching the key in her hand like it still had something to unlock.

But there was nothing left inside.

The displays had been cleared. The racks were empty. Even the walls looked duller now, stripped of their personality. Just bare paint and silence.

Kat stood beside her, biting her lip, trying not to cry.

“You sure about this?” she asked for the third time.

Lyric nodded, but it was slow. Hesitant.

“No,” she whispered. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

Kat gave a weak laugh and blinked back tears. “You built this place from scratch. You brought something beautiful to life here.”

Lyric smiled, but it trembled.

“It was more than a store. It was my escape. My start.”

Kat wrapped her arms around her. “It’ll feel better soon. I think.”

Her words tumbled out awkwardly. “I mean, I hope. I’m not good at goodbyes.”

Lyric swallowed back emotion. “Neither am I. ”

They stood there for another moment, breathing in the scent of dust and old ambition.

“I have something for you,” Lyric said softly.

She reached into her purse and handed Kat an envelope. Kat’s eyes widened as she opened it—and gasped.

“Lyric—this is…” Kat’s hand shook as she held up the cheque. “This is more than I make in a year. I can’t—”

“You can,” Lyric said firmly. “You’ve been a great help. I couldn’t have done this without you. I want you to have it.”

Kat’s eyes brimmed with tears. “But what about your new life? The baby? You don’t have to—”

“I do, Kat. I’m closing this store suddenly on you. I don’t want to leave you with nothing… I think you are forgetting that I am Kai Thorn’s girlfriend … I will be fine,” she teased gently.

Kat let out a small chuckle and wiped her cheeks clumsily. “I’m gonna blow it on something stupid, aren’t I?”

Lyric smiled faintly. “Probably.”

Kat pulled her into a tight hug. “Good luck. You’re gonna be amazing at whatever comes next.”

---

Then Lyric stepped inside the boutique one last time.

She walked through the space slowly, her fingers trailing over the counter where she used to sketch on slow days. The dressing rooms where she’d watched customers fall in love with their reflections.

The back office where she once cried with joy after her first sold-out launch.

She paused in front of a forgotten pinboard. A single sketch was still pinned there—creased and half-finished.

She stared at it, heart squeezing, then pulled it free and folded it carefully into her purse.

Some things were too personal to leave behind.

When she turned to go, the store echoed around her.

Hollow. Quiet. Done.

She locked the door and didn’t look back.

-- -

Three months passed.

The air turned sharp, winter crept into the city’s bones. The boutique was sold. Lyric’s sketches were boxed away. Her nights grew quieter, her world smaller.

She and Kai stayed close, building their little future in moments between errands and estate paperwork and whispers in the dark.

But South Carolina waited.

And soon, it was time.

---

The next morning as they stepped outside, twinkling Christmas lights lined the nearby windows and lampposts—just like they had when she arrived in New York a year ago.

The city had looked like a dream then. And now, as she prepared to leave it behind, everything glowed in soft, bittersweet symmetry.

Her chest ached. Not just from goodbye, but from the quiet reminder that an entire year had passed—and nothing about the holidays had changed.

Kai once said his family never celebrated Christmas. They didn’t see the point. If they wanted anything, they just bought it. They had money.

Lyric secretly hoped when the baby came, she’d be able to change that .

Then she saw Rowan waiting by the curb, bundled in a thick coat, scarf looped around her neck, eyes glossy.

“I wasn’t going to let you leave without saying goodbye,” Rowan said, pulling Lyric into a hug. “I’m so happy for you. And terrified. But mostly happy.”

Lyric squeezed her back, heart twisting. “I’ll miss you.”

“You’d better.” Rowan pulled back, eyes sharp. “And promise me you’ll call. Anytime. If you need anything—anything at all—you call me.”

“I promise. ”

Rowan smiled, but it wobbled. “Go build that beautiful life.”

---

Thomas arrived to drive them to the airfield. The ride was quiet—too quiet—but Kai held her hand, his thumb brushing slow circles over her skin.

The city blurred by, bright and breathless.

And then it was gone.

Skyscrapers gave way to highways. The noise softened. The pace slowed.

At the private terminal, Thomas loaded their luggage into the plane. As Lyric climbed the stairs, she glanced back.

“Isn’t Thomas coming with us?”

Kai shook his head. “No. I’m going to need him here for a while longer.”

“Why?”

“Just some business. Nothing to worry about.”

She nodded, trying to ignore the small knot of anxiety forming in her chest. It wasn’t like Kai to make decisions without explaining them—but maybe that was just something she never noticed before.

They boarded the plane. The engines rumbled to life. As the city slipped away below them, Lyric rested her hand on her stomach.

Her life in New York was behind her now.

What lay ahead… she couldn’t quite name.

---

After they landed in South Carolina, a sleek black car waited at the edge of the runway.

A driver opened the door for them. Behind him stood an older man in a perfectly pressed suit—silver hair, sharp eyes, posture stiff as a board.

“Lyric, this is Charles,” Kai said. “He’s my mother’s butler. He’ll be overseeing things at the house.”

Charles gave Kai a respectful nod. “Welcome home, Sir. ”

Then he turned to Lyric. “Ma’am.” His tone was polite but cool. Not unfriendly. Just formal. Distant. As if he were sizing her up.

Kai didn’t seem to notice.

They drove in silence, the trees growing denser around them. Shadows deepened. The roads narrowed.

After four hours of travel between car and plane, Lyric felt the weight of the day pressing on her.

Kai reached for her hand. “We’re almost there.”

She nodded, staring straight ahead.

And then she saw it.

A pair of tall, wrought-iron gates rising from stone pillars, tangled in ivy and rust.

The trees behind them were thick, shadowed, whispering in the wind.

Charles pressed a button on the dash. The gates began to open with a long, aching creak.

Lyric swallowed hard as they pulled through.

The drive curved like a secret.

And somewhere, deep in the woods ahead, a house waited.

Old.

Massive.

Home.