Love,Written In Ruins-Chapter 46: Surprise You Deserve
Jayla White didn’t believe in early mornings, especially not after a night spent fueled by spite and the ink-stained fantasies of dark romance novels. She had stayed up until 2:00 AM, the glow of her e-reader the only light in her apartment as she devoured a story about a woman who burned a kingdom down to find her own throne. By the time her eyes finally fluttered shut, she wasn’t just tired; she was inspired.
When she finally drifted awake at 11:00 AM, the sun was aggressively poking through the slats of her blinds. She didn’t rush. A hunter doesn’t rush the morning of the kill.
She ordered a massive spread from her favorite Italian place—carbonara thick with guanciale and a side of garlic bread that could kill a vampire. While she waited, she stepped into a steaming shower, the water beating against her back as she finalized the choreography of the afternoon. She scrubbed until her skin was pink, then stepped out and swaddled herself in a plush silk robe, wrapping her hair in a turban-style towel.
By the time the delivery knock sounded, she was pouring her first glass of chilled crisp white wine. Breakfast of champions.
She sat at her small, dining table, twirling pasta around her fork and sipping wine as the plans solidified in her mind. Every bite was a fuel-up for the fire. She looked around her apartment—at the shopping bags from yesterday, the mountain of luxury items bought with a traitor’s credit card—and felt a chilling sense of peace.
When the last bite was gone, she licked sauce from her thumb, picked up her phone. It was time for the siren song.
She dialed Eric. When he picked up, his voice was thick with that groggy, mid-morning charm he used to make women feel like they were the only thing on his mind.
"Babe?"
"Good morning, darling," Jayla purred, her voice a silk ribbon of sweet temptation. "How was your night?"
"It was terrible, Jay. Honestly," Eric groaned, and she could almost hear him stretching in his bed—probably the same bed she’d seen in the photos sent. "The bed felt like an ocean without you there. I couldn’t sleep for a second."
Jayla giggled, a sound so bubbly and innocent it was practically an insult. "I know, I know. Which is why I called to propose a second date. A real one. I want you to have... much more of me today."
Eric’s voice sharpened with immediate interest. "Yeah? What’s the proposal?"
"A drive date," she said, tilting her wine glass toward the light. "I was thinking... you should bring that gorgeous new Ferrari of yours to The Sweet Spot. We’ll have some ice cream, and then we can go for a long, fast drive. Just us."
Eric chuckled, his ego inflating over the line. "Ah, that’s more like it. I’ll come by and pick you up around twelve-thirty, and we’ll go toge—"
"No," Jayla interjected, her tone turning playfully firm. "I want you to wait for me there. I have a surprise for you, and I don’t want to ruin the entrance."
A beat of silence—curious, intrigued.
"What kind of surprise?"
"You’ll see," she teased. "But... I need a small favor, Eric."
"Anything for you, Jay."
"Bring the documents for the car. You know, the title, the registration—the stuff that proves it’s really yours."
There was a brief, pregnant pause. Eric sounded genuinely confused. "For the surprise? I mean, I get that, but the documents? That’s a little... not like you, Jay. Why the paperwork?" 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖
Jayla laughed, a light, airy sound that masked the calculation behind her teeth. "Oh, that? Well, my coworkers and I were talking about cars yesterday. I brought up that my amazing boyfriend has a Ferrari, and those bitches actually laughed at me. They don’t believe it. I just want to take a picture of the documents to rub it in their faces. Maybe post a little something on social media. You know, I want the world to know what kind of man I have."
It was a lie, but it was a smart one. She had learned from Eloise’s catastrophic mistake. She wouldn’t touch a single piece of Eric’s property until she was 100% certain it belonged to him and him alone. She wasn’t going to end up in a legal or literal fire because she burned something that didn’t belong to the right person. She needed to know he hadn’t "borrowed" it from some shadow bank.
Eric, blinded by the idea of Jayla bragging about him to the world, folded instantly. "Alright, alright. I’ll bring the folder. See you at one, beautiful."
"See you at one, babe."
The call ended. The wine glass was empty.
Jayla walked into her bedroom and opened the closet. She pulled out the outfit from yesterday. She dressed slowly, ceremoniously. The fishnets went on first, the diamond pattern cutting into her thighs. Then the red leather shorts—short enough to be a provocation, tough enough to be armor. She pulled on the black crop top and the sleek leather jacket.
She spent twenty minutes on her hair, pulling it into a high, lethal ponytail that swung like a whip. Then came the makeup. She did a sharp, winged liner that could cut glass, and then she reached for it: the red lipstick.
She stared at the tube for a long moment. She hadn’t worn this shade in two years—not since the night at the House of Yes, when a man with those beautiful eyes had left her heart in tatters. Red always reminded her of the man who had ruined her for everyone else. But today, red wasn’t a memory. It was a warning.
She swiped it on. Bold. Blood-colored. Perfect.
She stepped into her high heels, her height increasing along with her heartbeat. She checked herself in the full-length mirror, making sure every stitch was perfect. She looked like a comic book villain’s favorite dream.
Then, she reached for the baseball bat laying around in the room. It was smooth ash wood, the grip taped with professional precision. She weighed it in her hands, feeling the balance. She practiced a swing—slow, controlled, and utterly lethal. She could almost feel the resistance of a windshield or a ribcage in the air.
She grabbed the envelope from yesterday—the one with the photos of Eric’s betrayal and the credit card. She tucked them into her jacket pocket. Keys to the McLaren in one hand. Bat in the other.
She walked out the door without looking back.
The ice cream parlor was exactly as it always was: pastel pink walls, the smell of sugar, and the cheerful chime of the bell as the door opened. But today, the shop was nearly empty, the few patrons huddled in the back.
Jayla pulled the McLaren into the lot, the engine’s roar effectively silencing the birds in the trees. She saw the Ferrari parked near the entrance—a flash of arrogant Italian red. She smirked.
Through the large front window, she saw Eric. He was sitting with a waitress, clearly flirting with the young waitress. He was laughing, his hand inches from the girl’s, playing the part of the charming bachelor. Jayla felt nothing—no jealousy, no hurt. Just the cold, clinical satisfaction of a hunter seeing the prey move exactly where predicted.
She stepped out of the car, the click of her heels on the pavement sounding like a countdown. She walked into the shop.
Eric straightened the second the bell chimed. When his eyes landed on her, he actually forgot to breathe. His gaze traveled down her body—slow, appreciative, and hungry.
"Jesus, Jay," he breathed, his eyes wide. "You look... I can’t even..."
He couldn’t even finish the sentence. What stood before him wasn’t just beautiful—it was her. A version of Jayla he hadn’t seen in two years, the one she had folded away and buried to be "safe" for him. This was the Jayla from the House of Yes club nights—the fearless, electric woman he swore he’d fallen in love with, standing in front of him like a memory brought violently back to life.
She smiled—a look that was sweet enough for the shop but lethal enough for a graveyard. "Like the surprise you deserve, Eric?"
Eric laughed nervously, stepping forward to pull her into his arms. He kissed her cheek, his lips lingering a second too long. Jayla let him, her body as still as marble. She pulled back just a fraction, her eyes sparkling with a false light.
"Ice cream first?" she asked.
"Whatever you want," he doted, pulling out a chair for her. His eyes flickered to the baseball bat leaning against the table. "What’s with the lumber, Jay?"
"Oh, this?" She gave a nonchalant shrug. "I went to a casual game with some of the kitchen staff this morning. I forgot it in the car and didn’t want to leave it visible for someone to steal, and I thought, why not bring it along? It kind of goes with the outfit, don’t you think?"
Eric looked at her, then at the red leather and the fishnets, and laughed. "I mean, it’s a look. A very... intense look. I like it." He sat down across from her.
The waitress he’d been flirting with served them their sundaes, her eyes lingering on Eric with a secret smirk that made Jayla’s blood run cold. As soon as the girl left, Jayla reached out across the table.
"The documents, Eric?" Jayla prompted, her voice like honey.
"Right. Of course." He reached into his leather bag and pulled out a manila folder. He slid it across the table like a peace offering.
Jayla opened it. She read through the title, the bill of sale, the registration. Her eyes sharpened as she saw the name. Eric Miller. It was his. Truly his. No lien, no company name. Which meant it was a legitimate target.
She closed the folder with a soft thud. She looked at him, her red lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and leaned back, her hands folding over the handle of the bat. She took a slow, deliberate bite of her ice cream, letting the coldness settle in her chest.
"You know, Eric," she said, her voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm register. "I just heard a very disturbing rumor about you."
Eric’s smile faltered, just for a fraction of a second. "A rumor? Babe, you know people talk. What are you talking about?"
Jayla reached into her pocket and pulled out the white envelope. She didn’t open it yet. She just tapped it against the edge of the table, the sound echoing in the quiet shop.
"They say you’ve been a very, very busy boy," she whispered. "And I think it’s time we discuss the price of your... information."
