All Chapters of Bound by Deception : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Dakota woke up the next morning with a heaviness sitting squarely at the center of her chest. One she hadn’t fully acknowledged until the sunlight filtered through the curtains and pulled her into consciousness. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, her mind wasn’t foggy with confusion or exhaustion. Everything felt sharp. Raw. Unfiltered. There was no room left for denial or hesitation. Last night had shifted something in her. Something fundamental. She lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling in Elias’s room… no, his room. Their room. The one he insisted they use now that they are really together and no longer pretending, though she had always found herself gravitating toward his space, his warmth, and the quiet steadiness of him. Her fingers brushed lightly over her lips, remembering the way he had kissed her, like he couldn’t help himself. Like everything he felt for her had finally broken through the walls he spent years constructing. And then the confession

Diana stared out of the floor-to-ceiling window of her bedroom, the afternoon sun casting a golden haze across the city below. The streets were bustling, oblivious to the inner turmoil that churned relentlessly in her chest. Her hand rested on the curve of her belly, the unmistakable reminder of the life growing inside her. Every kick, every tiny movement of the baby, should have been a moment of joy, a reason to smile. But instead, it only brought her anxiety, dread, and a suffocating sense of responsibility she wasn’t ready to accept. For weeks, ever since Ryan had proposed to her, Diana had been trapped in a storm of conflicting emotions. She wanted to scream, to run, to throw the entire situation into the wind and pretend it didn’t exist. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t escape the reality of her pregnancy, the looming responsibilities, and the social expectations that pressed down on her like a weight she wasn’t strong enough to lift. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, sh

The place Helen had chosen to meet reeked of decay. Not the kind that smelt of rot and garbage, but the quieter kind. The kind that lived in shadows and damp walls, that lingered in broken buildings long forgotten by the city. An abandoned warehouse near the docks, where the sea air crept through cracks in the bricks and coated everything in cold salt. The windows were boarded. The lights inside flickered faintly from a single generator humming somewhere in the far corner like a heartbeat that refused to die. Helen sat in a folding chair at the center of the wide empty space, her legs crossed, her face lit by the glow of her phone screen. She didn’t look like a woman hiding. She looked like a queen holding court. Her posture was perfect. Her back was straight. Her makeup flawless. Her blonde hair sat neatly around her face as though she were in her office at Stone & Royale instead of in a godforsaken building that smelled of rust and water and forgotten crimes. Only her eyes

Helen did not return home in the calm way she had left that morning. She did not glide into the house with her usual cool superiority or peel off her heels with an air of a woman unbothered by the world. She stormed in like fire with skin, fury clinging to her every step as though it were stitched into her flesh. The door slammed behind her so violently that one of the framed photographs near the entrance rattled against the wall, tilting to the side. She didn’t stop to straighten it. She didn’t stop for anything at all. Her head was pounding, not with the dull ache of stress but with the sharp, blinding rage that came from humiliation. From being challenged. From being slapped. Dakota’s face flashed across her mind, over and over again, not in fear like it used to, not in quiet obedience the way Helen preferred it, but cold. Defiant. Alive in a way that was dangerous. Alive in a way that mocked her. Every time Helen remembered that sound, the soft, violent crack of Dakota’s palm m

When the dark sedan pulled up to the curb outside the house, Dakota felt the weight of a thousand unresolved things settle on her chest all at once. She had been standing by the gate, arms loosely folded across herself, pretending she wasn’t counting the seconds, pretending her heart wasn’t drumming against her ribs like it wanted out. Mr Grey hovered a few steps behind her, quiet as ever, his presence a silent wall at her back. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was watching every moving shadow on the street. The car came to a smooth stop, the engine humming low and restrained, the way expensive cars always sounded like they were barely trying. Her father was here. Her real father. The word still tasted strange in her mouth, like something borrowed that didn’t quite belong to her yet. The driver was the first to step out, all professionalism and smooth movements. He came around to the other side to open the door. Richard Stone emerged from the car slowly, like