Bound by the Past, Locked by the Heart novel Chapter 96

The car slowly descended into the underground garage, and they took the private elevator straight to the sixth floor.

The moment they stepped inside, a luxurious ambient fragrance drifted through the air. The smart lighting illuminated the expansive apartment, revealing a space with an absolutely stunning view.

She had never lived in a place this nice. It had everything money could buy—except the sense of security she desperately craved.

A sudden wave of nostalgia hit her for the tiny, eight-hundred-square-foot apartment they used to rent.

Back then, he would hold her, rest his chin on top of her head, and promise, "Willa, I'm going to buy you a massive house in Norvale."

Now that she was actually standing in that massive house, she felt no sense of triumph. Only a profound emptiness.

"Are you angry?" Randal stepped close, his low voice laced with an unprecedented level of accommodation.

Willa shook her head. "No."

She didn't dare be angry. She had zero right to throw a tantrum.

Randal tugged at his tie, thoroughly frustrated.

He wanted to lock her by his side, but he never wanted this lifeless, resigned submission.

"The guest bedroom is set up for you. All your essentials are there," he said, looking away to deliberately maintain some distance.

Willa's head snapped up in genuine surprise.

Randal's Adam's apple bobbed. He avoided her gaze, his tone defensive. "I'm not a monster every hour of the day. You paid your debt for asking my help last night."

"I'm not going to force you. While you're here, you can live just like you used to."

Willa stared at him in a daze, a complex, aching warmth brushing against her heart.

She had braced herself for a life of boundless degradation, never expecting him to offer her this last shred of dignity.

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because I can't bear to hurt you," he blurted out.

Willa was utterly stunned, her emotions spiraling into absolute chaos.

Their eyes locked, and both of them froze.

Randal crushed his cigarette and strode over. "Are you awake? Did I disturb you?"

Willa glanced at the clock on the wall—it was 2:30 AM.

"Why are you still up?" she asked.

"I can't sleep." He looked down, his fingers unconsciously rubbing against the seam of his trousers, restless.

Even in the past, he rarely showed this kind of vulnerability around her, let alone now, when he was in total control.

But right now, he looked like a man trapped by something invisible, struggling desperately but unable to break free.

"It's fine. I'm used to it," he said dismissively. "If I close my eyes, the nightmares come. And once I wake up, I can't go back to sleep."

Then he added one final assurance.

"Go back to bed. I won't cross the line."