All Chapters of Bound by paper : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: Jade’s POV I did not know what to do with myself. Why had I asked Killian that question yesterday? Something had shifted, and I did not like the fact that I could not name it. The house was quiet when I stepped out of the room. Too quiet. It was the kind of silence that made everything feel louder: my thoughts, my heartbeat, and the echo of every moment I was trying not to overthink. I made my way downstairs slowly, holding onto the railing as if I needed something solid to ground me. Nothing about my life felt stable anymore. “Careful.” His voice came from behind me, sending a shiver down my spine. I froze before turning. Killian stood a few steps above me, already dressed for the day. His sleeves were rolled just enough to expose his wrists, and the light caught the expensive steel of his watch. He looked perfectly composed, as if last night had never happened. “I am fine,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction. He did not look convinced. “You almost

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: Jade’s POV I did not expect the nerves to be this suffocating. It was not as if any of this were truly new. I had already met Aurelia, had already felt the small weight of her hand in mine, and had already heard her laughter echo in the cold hallways of Killian’s house. But today felt fundamentally different. Today was not a visit. It was an arrival. It was the moment the temporary became permanent, and the lines of our contract were rewritten by a four year old’s footsteps. As we drove, I felt a strange, prickly discomfort crawling over my skin. This suit, this car, this life... it all felt like a costume that was starting to itch. I was a woman who had been traded like a commodity by her father, yet here I was, being driven to pick up a child who knew nothing of the dark ink on the papers we had signed. The car ride was quiet, but it was the kind of silence that had physical mass. Killian drove with his usual, effortless precision. One hand was steady on th

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: Jade’s POV The house felt fundamentally different tonight. It was no longer the quiet, clinical museum I had first entered. It was alive in a way it had not been when it was only Killian and me, two strangers pretending we understood the rules of the arrangement we had made. Killian and I had arrived home late, the city lights still burned into my retinas after a grueling twelve hour day at the office. He had kept his word about letting me in on the business side of things, and the mental exhaustion was a welcome change from the hollow boredom of the previous days. Since the chef had long since departed and Aurelia had already been fed and bathed by the nanny, I found myself in the kitchen, heating up the remnants of a gourmet meal. It was a domestic scene that felt entirely fraudulent, yet strangely intimate. I was just sliding a tray into the oven when I heard the frantic patter of small footsteps. “Mama!” I looked up just in time to catch Aurelia as she c

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: Jade’s POV I woke up aware of him in a way that made my skin prickle with a mixture of comfort and dread. It was not just the physical fact of his presence. It was the way he occupied the space around me. His arm was draped over my waist, heavy and warm, possessive in a way that did not feel forced or part of the performance. My back was pressed lightly against the solid expanse of his chest. I could feel the slow, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat against my spine and the steady heat of his breath against the nape of my neck. For a long moment, I did not move. I allowed myself to exist in the vacuum of the early morning, where the contract did not exist and the world had not yet started demanding things of us. This felt real. And that was the problem. The moment the thought solidified, the name returned to haunt me. Adam. The word hit me all over again, sharp and jagged, an unanswered riddle that made the warmth behind me feel suddenly like a trap. Carefully

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: Jade’s POV The drive back felt different. It was quieter. It was not the empty kind of quiet that comes from having nothing to say, but the heavy, pressurized silence of having too much. Too many questions. Too many emotions sitting like lead in my chest with nowhere to go. I kept my gaze on the window, watching the city skyline bleed back into view, but my mind was miles away. It was still in that garden. I was still standing in front of that small gravestone, hearing the haunting vibration of his voice. I have a son. Not had. My fingers tightened in my lap. I wanted to turn to him and demand every detail. How did he die? How old was he? Was he sick or was it an accident? Did he suffer? The questions were relentless, pushing against the back of my throat, demanding to be spoken. But I stayed silent. I had seen the way his jaw tightened. I had seen the way he held onto control like it was the only thing keeping his soul from shattering into a thousand jagged