All Chapters of A Love Forged In Ruins : Chapter 31 - Chapter 39

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

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

Layla's pov The day of Mark's judgement was finally here. The court would finally convict him of his crime. The courtroom was cold.Not just from the aggressive air conditioning that seeped through the vents, but from the stillness—the kind that made your skin prickle and your heartbeat echo. The kind that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.I sat in the front row, my hands clutched tightly in my lap, fingers twisting together until the skin went white. My legs were tense, knees pressed so close they ached. I was still. Too still. But my heart was anything but calm. It thundered like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest.Damian sat beside me, a statue carved from stone. His hand hovered near mine, but he didn’t touch me. He knew I wouldn’t want that right now. He understood silence. Stillness. The kind that comes when everything you once believed begins to rot from the inside out.The courtroom was packed. Reporters. Strangers. People hungry for the fall of the rich and

Layla's pov A few weeks later I thought peace would feel louder.Instead, it came in soft silences, in the way Damian and I sat across from each other at the breakfast table, sipping coffee without tension thick in the air. The heavy things—betrayals, lies, grief—they had started to settle. There was still pain, yes, but it didn’t suffocate me anymore."You slept through the night," Damian said gently, breaking the quiet.I smiled over my mug. "For once. You?"He nodded. "Mostly. I kept checking if you were still there. Just… wanted to make sure."That vulnerability in his voice made my heart twist. The man who once lived in secrets was now trying to live in truth. With me.We had come a long way—from shouting in boardrooms, to standing over Celeste’s grave, to finally… this. The world hadn’t gone quiet, but we had found a quiet moment within it.But peace never lasted long.The first sign came with a headline.Damian was reading something on his phone when his jaw tightened. I noti

Layla's pov I could feel something changing in the air. It wasn’t just the tension from Isabel’s attacks. It was something closer, something more personal. Damian had been quieter lately, more on edge. I noticed the way his eyes lingered on his phone longer than usual, how his fingers would drum the table in a restless rhythm. And then there was Alexander.Alexander had been Damian’s right-hand man for years. Trusted. Loyal. A steady presence in the storm. But even I could tell something was off.It started small. A few missed meetings. Damian mentioned how Alexander had been unreachable one morning when a key investor called unexpectedly. Then, there were the documents—contracts that were supposed to be signed and ready but somehow ended up lost or misplaced. Damian found one of them days later, shoved into the back of a filing cabinet.At first, he brushed it off."He’s tired," Damian told me one night, rubbing his temples. "We’re all tired. Isabel’s playing games, and we’re scramb