All Chapters of A Love Forged In Ruins : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Layla's POV I didn’t want to go to dinner with Silas Reign. But I went anyway.Not because I trusted him. Not because I liked him.But because I needed to know what kind of man was trying to buy the soul of my house.He reserved the top floor of a luxury restaurant I’d never heard of—somewhere hidden in the city skyline, too high for real life to touch. The elevator doors opened to soft golden lighting, a long glass table set for two, and floor-to-ceiling windows that made it feel like we were eating in the clouds.“Layla,” Silas said smoothly, rising from his seat. “Thank you for coming. You look radiant.”I gave a tight smile. “You don’t waste time on small gestures, do you?”He laughed lightly, gesturing for me to sit. “Time is the most expensive thing we have. I prefer to spend it well.”I sat down slowly. Everything in the room was perfect—too perfect. The kind of perfection you couldn’t breathe in. I glanced at the menu, though I wasn’t hungry. I hadn’t been truly hungry in day

Layla's POVWeeks laterThe meeting room was too quiet.Only the sound of Damian’s pen clicking and the low hum of the AC filled the air. He sat across from me, his jaw tight, shoulders stiff. I was trying to stay focused—our quarterly report was due in less than a week, and our pitch for the new outreach centers needed work—but something about Damian’s silence unsettled me.He hadn’t really been himself since NovaLux. His confidence was still there, on the surface. But the spark in his eyes—the fire that made Damian Blackwood magnetic—had dimmed. He was present, but distracted, like his mind kept slipping into the shadows.“We need to rethink the timeline,” I said, flipping to the next page in my notebook. “If we launch all five centers at once, the local teams won’t be strong enough. I think we should stagger them.”He nodded, barely looking up. “Quarterly launches instead of monthly?”“Yes. That gives each region time to settle before the next rollout.”He opened his mouth to respo

Layla's POVDinner that night felt like walking into a storm cloud and pretending it was sunshine.I moved around the kitchen like I had something to prove. Like the perfect dinner might fix the mess of emotion unraveling inside our home. Chicken roasted in the oven, filling the air with garlic and rosemary. I boiled rice, sautéed green beans, added lemon zest to the sauce—little touches that made me feel useful, made me feel like I was trying.But trying didn’t always mean succeeding.Damian leaned against the counter, his arms folded, watching the oven like it had the answers he didn’t. He hadn’t said much since the argument with Jaden earlier in the day. He was tense. Frustrated. Maybe even scared—but Damian never said that out loud. He just kept clenching and unclenching his jaw like he was chewing on regrets.I kept setting the table slowly, arranging the silverware like it mattered. Fork on the left. Knife on the right. Napkin folded just right. It was silly, maybe, but it gave

Layla’s POVThe morning after the shouting match, the house felt like it was holding its breath.Sunlight spilled through the windows, too bright for how heavy the air was. Damian had already left for the center, but I’d asked him to leave Jaden behind. I needed to talk to him. Not as a disciplinarian. Not as a stepmother. Just as someone who cared.I waited until I heard his door creak open upstairs. Then the slow, reluctant shuffle of his feet down the hall. I poured two cups of tea and sat at the kitchen table, trying to calm my nerves.He walked in wearing the same hoodie from yesterday. His face was guarded, eyes wary. He didn’t look angry anymore—just exhausted.“Sit with me,” I said gently, patting the chair across from me.He hesitated. Then, with a shrug, he sank into the chair like he had nothing left to fight with.I slid one of the cups toward him. He stared at it for a second before wrapping his hands around it. Not drinking. Just... holding on.We sat in silence for a mo

Layla's POV The building buzzed with voices—some anxious, some excited, all layered on top of each other like mismatched harmonies. The Amara Initiative’s mentorship program events were never quiet. But that day, the air felt different. Maybe because this time, Jaden was walking beside us.He didn’t say much as we entered the community center. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. I noticed how close he stayed to Damian, like he wasn’t ready to be left alone in this sea of strangers.“Want to help set up the media booth?” I asked gently, offering a small smile.Jaden shrugged. “I’ll just look around.”I nodded, not pushing.We’d made it this far. He was with us. That was something.Inside, young people clustered in small groups—some laughing, some nervous. Mentors circulated with ease, checking on booths, schedules, equipment. I moved through the chaos with practiced grace. After all these years, I knew how to be a calm center in a storm.What I