Love,Written In Ruins-Chapter 52: She Was Hunted

The interior of The Velvet Anchor was a sanctuary of amber lighting, polished mahogany, and the low, mournful hum of a saxophone drifting over hidden speakers. It was the kind of place where secrets weren’t just kept; they were fermented slowly, like good whiskey in charred oak.

​Behind the bar, two men occupied the narrow space between the high-shelf spirits and the brass rail. Simon, weary-eyed and steady-handed, had his back to the room, methodically polishing a crystal decanter until it caught the light like a captured star. Opposite him, Edward—the man who’d once shared a cab with a terrified Eloise—faced the front, his hands restlessly wiping down a counter that was already immaculate.

"You’re doing it again," Simon said, voice a low rasp that didn’t require him to turn.

Edward’s hands paused, gripping the damp rag like an anchor. "Doing what?"

"Pining. Obsessing. Same difference with you lately." Simon set the decanter down with a soft thud and leaned his elbows on the back bar, studying his friend with equal parts pity and exasperation. "Edward, listen. You should be losing sleep over your mother and brother finding out you’re not the Managing Director of some shiny LA tech empire. You should be panicking about the day they show up at your imaginary corner office and find you slinging cocktails in a basement speakeasy. Not mooning over a woman you met for twenty minutes in a cab."

Edward’s jaw tightened. "I know what I saw, Si. She wasn’t just engaged. She was hunted."

Simon scoffed. "Hunted? You think you’re the knight because you gave her a ride? She’s got a fiancé who looks like he could buy this city twice over. And you’re still spinning fairy tales instead of planning your exit from the biggest lie you’ve ever told."

Edward let out a short, bitter laugh and shook his head. "Maybe. But some things feel heavier than the lie."

Simon tilted his head. "Heavier? Like what—a crush? A savior complex? You don’t even know her real life, and she sure as hell doesn’t know yours. You’re ready to burn everything down for a ghost you met on public transit."

Edward’s gaze dropped to the oak. He could still feel the ghost of Eloise’s hand brushing his in that cab, the way her eyes had darted to every shadow like they were closing in. "She shouldn’t be alone in whatever this is," he said quietly. "That’s all."

Simon shook his head, half-laughing. "Hopeless. Reckless. Just don’t come crying when your family discovers the truth. Because they will. And I’m not patching that mess." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Edward’s expression hardened. "I’ll handle my family."

Simon stared, genuinely baffled. Just yesterday Edward had taken the day off—dressed like the fiction he sold his family: tailored suit, crisp tie, expensive cologne. He’d claimed he was visiting his mother and brother. Instead he’d returned hours later, shoulders slumped, eyes restless, admitting he hadn’t gone at all.

Why?

Because he’d crossed paths with a girl in a cab. Then on a train.

A girl who looked like prey.

A girl he’d known for less than half an hour.

And now she mattered more than the carefully constructed life he’d built around a single, enormous lie.

"Will you handle it?" Simon pressed. "Because right now you’re more worried about a woman who’s already spoken for by a man who owns the oxygen in every room he enters."

Edward looked down at the bar top. "She was in real trouble, Simon. I know what I saw."

Simon sighed theatrically and began to hum, voice surprisingly rich as he slipped into the melody. "Can... anybody... find me... somebody to love?"

Edward smirked faintly. "I didn’t know you were looking. I would’ve set you up with my cousin months ago."

Simon stopped mid-note and jabbed a finger at Edward’s chest. "Not for me, Romeo. For you. So you stop daydreaming about another man’s fiancée and start figuring out how to explain your ’executive salary’ when you’re pulling ten bucks an hour plus tips. And maybe find someone available to love."

Edward opened his mouth for a sharp comeback, but the words evaporated. The heavy oak door swung open, and the room’s casual gravity tilted toward the newcomers.

It was Jayla.

She strode in wearing that signature red leather "war suit," high ponytail swinging like a metronome of confidence. She looked like a lit fuse in a room full of damp matches. Beside her walked a man who moved with lethal, effortless grace—he has a resemblance with the face Edward had glimpsed at the train station. The one who’d claimed Eloise with terrifying calm.

Andrés De La Vega surveyed the bar with mild amusement, his hand resting lightly on the small of Jayla’s back.

​Jayla walked straight toward the bar, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Edward. She froze for a fraction of a second, her brows knitting together in recognition. She took a stool, the leather creaking under her, and leaned her elbows on the wood.

​"You," she said, her voice a mix of surprise and genuine contrition. "You work here?"

​Edward nodded, slipping into professional calm even as his pulse kicked up. "I do. Welcome to the Anchor."

​Jayla exhaled, her shoulders dropping an inch. "Look, I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch that day. I was... stressed. And defensive. And I took it out on the one person who was actually trying to help."

​Edward’s expression softened. He offered a small, genuine smile. "No hard feelings. Tensions were sky-high. I’m just glad to see you’re... alright."

"Jayla," she said, offering her hand across the bar. "Officially."

"I know," Edward replied, shaking it briefly. "Eloise mentioned you—when she was, uh, reprimanding you for your behavior that morning. I’m Edward."

Beside her, Andrés leaned one elbow on the counter, icy blue eyes scanning Edward with cool curiosity. He recognized the bartender instantly: the stranger who’d thrown a wrench into Luciano’s timeline, forcing an early extraction. Few people managed to inconvenience his brother like that.

​He leaned closer, presence pressing like a physical weight. "Reprimanding?" he echoed, voice smooth and edged. "Polite way of putting it. Jay, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend? Or are we having a reunion over cocktail napkins?"

​Jayla didn’t even look at him. She kept her eyes on Edward. "Don’t mind him. He’s just the delivery man."

​Andrés let out a bark of laughter. "The delivery man? I literally just handed you the documents to a seven-hundred-horsepower supercar, Jayla. I think I’ve earned a better title than that."

​Edward didn’t flinch. His protective instinct for Eloise flared, but he kept his tone even. "Have you heard from her? From Eloise? Last I saw, a man claiming to be her fiancé took her from the train station."

​Andrés leaned farther over the bar, smile turning razor-sharp. "My brother doesn’t claim anything, bartender. Luciano is her fiancé. In every sense that counts. Eloise is exactly where she belongs."

​Simon, eavesdropping from a safe distance, leaned over and elbowed Edward hard in the ribs. "Told you," he hissed loudly enough for only Edward to hear. "Now focus on the drinks before you get us both buried in a basement."

​Edward ignored him, his jaw set. He turned back to the couple. "I see. Well, what can I get for the two of you?"

​Jayla gave her order—a stiff gin and tonic with extra lime—her eyes darting to Andrés as if daring him to comment. Andrés requested their oldest bourbon, neat.

As Edward began to mix the drinks, Andrés turned to Jayla, his arm draped over the back of her stool—marking territory without apology.

​"Eloise is doing okay," Jayla added, her voice softening as she looked at Edward. "She’s... safe. In her own way. I’ll be seeing her soon."

Edward gave her a nod and continued to mix the drinks.

​Andrés took his drink from Edward, swirling the amber liquid in the glass. ​"So," Andrés started, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. "Now that you’ve signed for the car and officially entered the De La Vega orbit, I have a question for the ’Female Lead.’"