All Chapters of A Love Forged In Ruins : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Layla's POV It’s been about three months since Vincent was taken into custody, and there hasn’t been any trouble since. I hope things stay that way. It’s a new semester now, the twins are in new classes, and Jaden has just gotten enrolled in college. We’ve changed our staff at home and at the House of Amara too—anyone who was linked to Vincent, or at least acted suspicious back then, is gone. Damian is at a board meeting at House of Amara, and I decided to visit my boutique after such a long time.The morning air was crisp, carrying a faint smell of rain that had soaked the streets overnight. I locked the front door of the house behind me, adjusted the strap of my bag over my shoulder, and started walking toward the boutique. At first, everything seemed normal—the familiar rhythm of the neighborhood, the faint chatter of shopkeepers preparing for the day—but the closer I got, the more subtle signs told me something wasn’t right.The corner café where I always stopped for a quick espr

Layla's POV It had been one of those days where nothing seemed wrong on the surface, yet the air felt heavy, like a storm was quietly brewing just beyond the horizon. I unlocked the front door and stepped into our home, the familiar scent of warm wood and faint vanilla from the candles greeting me, trying in vain to soothe the unease still buzzing in my veins.“Damian?” I called softly, dropping my bag near the hallway. The sound of water boiling in the kettle on the stove answered me before he did.He emerged from the study, dark suit still on from his earlier meetings, eyes sharp but briefly softened when he saw me. “Hey,” he said, voice low, almost tired. “Everything okay?”I hesitated, dropping onto one of the kitchen stools. “It’s… strange,” I admitted. “Someone came into the boutique today. Michelle Thomas. She delivered some sort of notice… about a buyout or redevelopment of the area.” I paused, watching Damian’s face for any sign of recognition. “She… she knew a little too mu

Layla's POV It had been two days since that meeting, and the silence in our home still felt like a living thing. It crept through the rooms, heavy and suffocating, wrapping itself around each of us until breathing became a chore. No one wanted to speak. No one wanted to stir it.Jaden barely left his room except for meals, and even then he barely touched his food. His once bright eyes were dim, shadowed with something I hadn’t seen in him before—a mixture of confusion, heartbreak, and a simmering kind of anger. Every time I looked at him, guilt pricked my chest sharp enough to steal my breath.Damian wasn’t much better. He sat most nights in the living room, staring at the wall as if he could burn a hole through it with his thoughts. His fists clenched and unclenched on his knees, the muscles in his jaw tight, his silence boiling louder than words. I knew he was furious, but I also knew it wasn’t directed at Jaden. Or at me. It was the kind of rage a man carried when he wanted to des

Layla's POV The car ride felt like a coffin. Silent. Heavy. Suffocating.Damian drove with one hand tight on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might crack. The dim glow of the dashboard lit up his face in sharp angles, every line etched with tension. His other hand tapped against his thigh, an unconscious beat that betrayed his impatience.I sat beside him, my palms sweating, my mind racing faster than the car itself. The PI’s words wouldn’t stop echoing in my head: She’s alive. She has a house. She works. She’s close.Michelle.Michelle, who had supposedly died. Michelle, who had looked me in the eye and denied her son.I stared out the window, the world passing in a blur of streetlights and shadows. My chest felt tight. What if she slammed the door in our faces again? What if she humiliated Jaden all over, ripping open wounds that still hadn’t healed? Or worse—what if she wasn’t just running from her past, but hiding something dangerous enough to swal

Layla's POV The night felt heavier than usual. The air smelled of salt and rust, the way only a pier could smell, mixed with the faint reek of oil that clung to the water. Pier 47 stretched ahead of us—lonely, dimly lit, the shadows of stacked containers looming like silent guards. A few weak yellow lamps buzzed along the path, their glow swallowed quickly by the fog that rolled in from the water.I pulled my coat tighter, though it wasn’t the cold that made me shiver. My heart was pounding, each beat a question I wasn’t sure I wanted answered.Damian walked beside me, silent, his jaw clenched tight. His hand brushed against mine—not in affection, but as if reminding me that he was here, that he would step between me and danger if it came to that.We were both on edge. We weren’t just walking toward Michelle. We were walking toward the truth, toward a past that refused to stay buried.When I spotted her, my breath hitched.Michelle stood at the edge of the pier, facing the water. Her