Page 39 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Forty-One

Dressed in Caution

Dinner without Kai felt like a performance Lyric hadn’t auditioned for.

She sat at the massive table, napkin folded neatly in her lap, posture too upright, every movement too rehearsed. Mrs. Thornwick, of course, was perfect—poised and composed in a high-collared navy dress, sipping from her wine glass like she was at the head of a royal court.

Lyric had dressed carefully. Not for elegance—but for safety. Neutral tones. Minimal makeup. She wore her hair back, as if neatness could somehow protect her.

They ate mostly in silence, save for the clinking of silverware and the occasional murmured compliment from the butler.

Mrs. Thornwick set her glass down gently and smiled.

“Such casual pet names… what was it you called him the other day? ‘Babe’?” Her tone was light, but her eyes stayed locked on Lyric.

Lyric blinked. “Oh. I didn’t realize I said that in front of you.”

“Oh, but you did. It’s sweet, in a modern sort of way. Though I do miss when relationships carried a bit more refinement. Malachai, for instance, was never one for such vulgar little words. But people do change, I suppose.”

Lyric didn’t answer. She simply nodded once and tried to focus on cutting her roasted vegetables into tiny, perfect pieces.

Mrs. Thornwick continued. “You know, when I first met Malachai’s father, he used to write me letters. Actual letters. Ink on paper. There’s a power in waiting for something, in words that can’t be unsent.”

“That’s… really romantic,” Lyric offered. Her voice was small, her throat suddenly dry.

The older woman tilted her head, studying her. “Do you write, dear?”

“I sketch,” Lyric said. “Design work, mostly.”

Mrs. Thornwick smiled again. “Of course you do.”

Another sip of wine. Another beat of silence.

Then, casually, as if she were commenting on the weather: “I do hope you aren’t still upset about the nursery.”

Lyric’s fork paused mid-air.

“I just—I was surprised,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I thought Kai and I were going to plan it together.”

“Yes, well, he’s busy. And planning something so important shouldn’t fall entirely on you in your condition. I’ve taken care of it. The room needed warmth. Structure. A touch of legacy.”

Legacy.

Lyric smiled tightly. “Right.”

Mrs. Thornwick placed her utensils down with a soft clink. “I know it must be difficult for you, not having family to help. And being so… new to all of this.”

Lyric stiffened. “I may be new, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable.”

“Oh, of course not. But capability and experience are two very different things. I raised Malachai, after all. And look how well he turned out.”

Lyric swallowed the retort rising in her throat like smoke.

The meal ended in silence. As the butler cleared the plates, Mrs. Thornwick folded her napkin and rose gracefully .

“I have some finishing touches to arrange in the nursery,” she said. “Do get some rest, dear. You look a bit tired around the eyes.”

She left with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Lyric sat there long after she was gone, her hands twisted tightly in her lap, her breath catching in her chest like a thread pulled too tight.

And for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she could hold herself together much longer.