Page 62 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Sixty-Two

Just to Take It All Away

She ended the call and just sat there.

Not crying.

Not moving.

Not breathing, not really.

There was a pressure in her chest—like a scream trapped beneath her ribs. It pushed upward, crushed her throat, clawed at her lungs—but it wouldn’t come out.

She couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Her hands were shaking so badly the phone almost slipped from her lap.

What is happening .

Her breath came too fast, too shallow.

Her vision blurred, but not from tears—from sheer, suffocating panic.

This wasn’t real.

This couldn’t be real.

He said he loved me.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Her chest heaved. She curled forward, pressing her hand to her stomach, to her heart, to anything that might keep her from falling apart.

Just days ago, she was waiting for him to come home .

She did suspect there was another woman. The late-night calls he would take. The way he smiled at his phone. The way he stopped looking at her like he used to. The note.

But with the gravity of everything she just found out, worrying about another woman seemed mild in comparison.

Because now—

Now the world thought she didn’t exist.

No. Worse.

The world thought she lied. That she faked the pregnancy.

That she used him.

And he was the one who told them to believe it.

A sound finally broke from her lips. Guttural. Shaky. A sob that never fully formed.

She looked down at her stomach.

He knew. Of course he knew.

He knew who she was.

He knew this baby was real.

He kissed her belly every night.

He named their son.

He said we’re a family now.

Her hand clamped over her mouth as nausea clawed its way up her throat.

Did he plan this from the beginning?

Had he seen her, known her, stalked her?

Had she been a game?

Her heart punched against her ribs.

He’s my uncle.

The thought hit like a wave of bile.

She doubled over, breath hitching, body trembling.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t an accident. This wasn’t confusion.

This was on purpose .

And now—

Now she couldn’t even go to the police.

She couldn’t even fight back.

If this got out—if the truth about their blood, about the baby—

Her son would carry the weight .

He didn’t deserve that.

He didn’t ask for any of this.

She had to protect him.

Even if it meant letting the world believe she was a liar.

Even if it meant vanishing.

Even if it meant never getting answers.

Her breath hitched again.

“I loved you,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “You said you would never hurt me.”

The bench beneath her felt miles wide.

The sky above her? Too bright.

Everything was wrong.

He gave her everything just to take it all away.

And she had no idea why.

And no one to ask.