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Trapped by fate
Huling Na-update:
2025-04-26 14:00:09
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A Love Forged In Ruins Power in red
Layla's pov I hadn’t planned on visiting Blackwood Enterprises today. But something in my gut told me to check in with Damian. Lately, he’d been acting… different. Guarded. Stressed. And that was saying something for a man who always looked like he carried the weight of the world on his back.I parked across the street, heels clicking against the concrete as I made my way to the building. The spring sun hung low in the sky, warm but heavy with the promise of a storm.That’s when I heard shouting.Not normal, everyday frustration. But full-blown, venom-laced screaming.I turned the corner, heart skipping a beat—and froze.A woman stood just outside the front doors, flanked by two very tense-looking security guards. Her long dark coat flared in the wind, her chest rising and falling with fury. Her voice carried loud enough to pierce the sky.And I recognized her immediately.Celeste.I pushed through the small crowd gathering at the edges of the sidewalk—employees, curious onlookers, a
A Love Forged In Ruins Not here for permission
Third person pov The tall glass doors of Blackwood Enterprises slammed open with a sharp, echoing thud. Heads turned. Phones paused mid-ring. A cold breeze followed Celeste into the lobby, though it was a warm spring afternoon outside.Her heels clacked against the marble floor, sharp and unforgiving, like the rage simmering in her chest. Her dark red coat flowed behind her like a cape, bold and demanding attention. Her hands trembled slightly, but not from fear—from fury.“Excuse me, miss—” the receptionist stood halfway, but Celeste didn’t slow down.“I’m not here for permission,” she snapped without turning her head. “Tell Damian Blackwood his sister is here.”The woman’s eyes widened, mouth parting in confusion. “I-I’m sorry, his what?”Celeste didn’t bother explaining. She stormed past the security desk, ignoring the rising voices behind her. Her heart beat like a war drum. Her eyes locked on the gold elevator doors ahead.For years she’d lived in the shadow of a man she didn’t
A Love Forged In Ruins From ruins, we begin
Layla's pov The room was too quiet. That kind of quiet that creeps into your bones and settles behind your ribs like a ghost. I sat curled in the corner of the old velvet couch in the guest room of my grandmother’s countryside estate, legs tucked beneath me, eyes fixed on the fogged window. Outside, the trees stood tall and solemn, cloaked in a thick mist that clung to their limbs like forgotten secrets—just like the ones buried in the bones of this house… and in mine.I hadn’t spoken to anyone in days. Not even Damian. He had texted. He knew me well enough to recognize when I was trying not to fall apart.I needed the silence. I needed space to think, to breathe, to grieve in a way I never had permission to before.After finding the journal in the attic—buried in a locked box under old fabric swatches and moth-eaten letters—everything inside me shifted. I thought I was prepared for anything. I was wrong.The ink had faded, but those words burned like they were etched into my skin. E
A Love Forged In Ruins Half of me
Layla's pov Outside, the air was thick with summer heat, but I felt ice in my bones. I walked without knowing where I was going, just trying to outrun the storm inside me.Angelina Monroe wasn’t my mother.Vincent Monroe wasn’t my father.I didn’t belong to either of them.All this time, I was a pawn in their perfect illusion. An accessory to a legacy that was never really mine.And Alexander Blackwood…Angelina's lover and Celeste's father.I had put the journal back in my bag.My phone buzzed.A message from Damian.“I miss you. Please. Just talk to me.”I stared at his name.I didn’t even know how to respond. The only thing I knew was this:The truth may set you free.But first, it burns everything you thought you were to the ground.And I was standing in the ashes.Later that day, I texted both Celeste and Damian to meet me at a quiet café downtown. I chose a booth in the back corner, far from curious ears. I arrived first and waited, heart thumping violently.Celeste came in fi
A Love Forged In Ruins A name, not a home
Layla's pov I stood outside her office door, the journal clenched in my hand like a weapon.When I burst through the doors of her private office, her assistant gasped. “Miss Monroe, you can’t just—”But I didn't pay any attention to her, I just walked into her office.My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Everything felt sharp—too bright, too loud. My mother sat at her desk, poised as ever, flipping through papers like the world wasn’t on fire. Like she didn’t destroy mine.She looked up when she saw me.I didn’t answer. I walked straight to her desk and dropped the journal in front of her.The moment her eyes fell on it, her face changed. The calm mask she always wore cracked.“You read it,” she said softly.I stared at her. “You lied to me my entire life.”Her hands trembled as she pushed the journal aside. “Layla, please—”“No. Don’t please me,” I snapped. “Tell me the truth. All of it. Right now.”She stood slowly, as if the air had thickened around us. “This
A Love Forged In Ruins Daughter of secrets
Layla's pov Even after I left the attic with the journal clutched to my chest, the weight of it followed me. I sat curled up on the edge of my bed, the leather-bound pages resting on my lap like something sacred and cursed at the same time. The words I had read earlier swirled in my head like smoke—hints of love buried under pain, confessions soaked in regret.I thought I was ready for more. I thought I could handle anything now.I was wrong.The next morning, I made tea just to keep my hands busy. I hadn’t seen my mother since the argument yesterday—since she told me I was dead to her. I could still feel those words lodged in my chest like splinters.But it wasn’t her voice that haunted me now. It was her writing.I opened the journal again.At first, the entries were simple—day-to-day observations, dinner parties, travel plans. But as I flipped further, the handwriting became messier. More emotional. As if her carefully built mask had started to slip.Then I found it.An entry dat
A Love Forged In Ruins Not dead, not done
Layla's pov I stood at the front gate of the Monroe estate, the same one I used to swing on when I was eight, pretending it was a pirate ship. But today, the wrought iron felt heavier, colder—like it knew I no longer belonged.The message from my mother still played in my mind. Just one sentence, sent late last night.“We need to talk.”No warmth. No apology. No context. Just cold, clipped words that felt more like a warning than an invitation.I buzzed the gate, and the security guard let me in without a word. I walked the long driveway alone, my heels crunching on the gravel, my heart thudding heavier with every step. The house loomed ahead—grand, perfect, and empty in all the wrong ways. A golden cage built for secrets.When I stepped inside, the silence wrapped around me like a noose. I found her in the sunroom, sitting stiffly on the white sofa, sipping tea like this was any other day. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Her eyes met mine, sharp
A Love Forged In Ruins Born Monroe, built different
Layla's pov I stood in front of the mirror in my office at Eclipse, my reflection staring back at me like a stranger.The sharp black suit fit perfectly—tailored shoulders, crisp creases, not a single thread out of place. My hair was slicked into a low bun, my lips painted a bold, unflinching red. I looked like a leader. A woman in control. But the truth?Inside, I was barely holding it together.My stomach twisted like it had been caught in a vice. My heart thudded loud and uneven in my chest, echoing with all the questions I couldn’t silence.Was I doing the right thing? Would I regret it?Would she be proud of me?I turned from the mirror and crossed the room, heels clicking on the polished marble floor as I walked toward the tall windows. The city below stretched endlessly, glowing in amber and steel. It pulsed, alive and hungry. It didn’t care about my decisions. About my war.But I did.Today was the day.The day I would stop running from the weight of my family name. The day I
A Love Forged In Ruins They never said sorry
Layla's pov I sat in the Eclipse boardroom, the city skyline stretched beyond the windows like a painting I couldn't touch. The chair beneath me felt too big, the room too silent. I had accepted the role. I had taken the keys to a kingdom built on secrets and war.But it didn’t feel like victory.Not when the cost was this heavy.The logo of Eclipse glowed on the wall behind me—sleek, cold, powerful. A constant reminder that my grandmother had handed me not just a company, but a loaded gun. One aimed directly at Monroe Enterprises.My family.Or whatever was left of it.I didn’t want to save them. Not after what they did. Not after how they made me feel like I was never enough. But… the people in that company, the ones who weren’t monsters, they would suffer if Monroe Enterprises fell. Employees. Families. People who had no idea what kind of poison ran through the boardroom.If I saved it, I’d be saving them too. But I’d also be helping the same people who used me like a pawn.I stoo
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