Chapter 45 The Warmth Of Laughter
Elena's POV
I was scared too.
It was daunting enough to know that my biological father would stop at nothing just to shove me in dirt. Then again, I'm his daughter and I intend to match his energy.
Layla’s words still hung in the air like smoke.
The apartment felt smaller after that, like the walls had leaned in just a little closer. I sat curled on the couch, one leg tucked beneath me, my robe pulled tight even though the room wasn’t cold.
I exhaled slowly, staring at the pale light on the floor and then, before I could stop myself, the question slipped out.
“Layla…”
She looked up immediately. “Mmm?”
I hesitated, my fingers twisting in the edge of the sleeve.
“Have you… found anything suspicious about Jack so far?” I bit my lip.
The moment the words landed, I regretted them. They sounded ugly out loud.
Layla blinked, then her face shifted.
And to my absolute horror, amusement sparked in her eyes.
“Oh,” she said slowly, leaning back in her seat. “Oh, Elena.”
I groaned, already knowing where this was going.
“What?”
Layla’s lips curled. “You are so painfully obvious.”
I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Layla...”
“No, no,” she continued, sitting forward like she was about to deliver a sermon. “This is actually my favorite version of you.”
“My favorite version of me is unconscious,” I muttered.
“The version of you,” she corrected brightly, “who is clearly, deeply in love with Jack Roman…”
I tried to deny it.
“I’m not—”
“…and yet,” she pressed on, her voice dripping with delight, “still wants me to run a full criminal background check on him like he’s a suspicious package left outside Vale Corp.”
My cheeks heated.
“Can you not?”
Layla laughed, soft and genuine, the first real laugh in the room all day.
“Elena,” she said, wiping at nothing on her cheek, “you’re sitting here looking like a Victorian heroine about to faint from longing, and you’re asking me if I’ve found anything suspicious about the man who made you breakfast.”
I glared at her. “I was hungover.”
“And he still made you breakfast.”
I threw a pillow at her.
She caught it easily.
“Oh, stop,” she teased. “It’s kind of sweet.”
“It’s not sweet,” I snapped automatically, then sighed, rubbing my temple. “It’s confusing.”
Layla’s expression softened slightly.
“I know, but it's good to know that you're not as cold and detached as you've been all these years.”
There was a beat of quiet before she leaned forward again, her voice more serious.
“I stopped digging into Jack, Elena.”
I blinked. “You… what?”
She shrugged. “I stopped.”
“Why?”
Layla tilted her head, like the answer was obvious.
“Because I thought you trusted him.”
My throat tightened.
“And because,” she added with a pointed look, “you’re clearly in love with him.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, then scoffed.
“I am not clearly... anything.”
Layla just raised her brows.
The silence stretched long enough for me to feel ridiculous.
Finally, I exhaled through my nose, defeated.
“…Fine.”
Layla’s eyes widened slightly. “Fine?”
I looked away, staring at the city beyond the window like it might save me.
“Fine,” I repeated, quieter. “Maybe I—maybe I have feelings for him.”
Layla’s grin returned immediately, triumphant.
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t,” I warned.
“I knew it.”
“I said don’t.”
She leaned back, practically glowing with vindication. “Elena Vale... Is down bad.”
“I will actually throw you off this balcony.” I joked.
Layla laughed again.
But my chest still felt tight because it wasn’t funny, It was terrifying. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to look at her again. “But that doesn’t mean I’m blind,” I said, my voice sharper now. “Or stupid, or safe.”
Layla’s amusement faded.
“Elena…”
“I can care about him,” I continued, the words coming faster, messier, “and still not know what parts of him are real. I can want him and still wonder if I’m being played. Damien taught me what it feels like to trust the wrong person.”
Layla’s gaze softened fully now.
“I know.”
“So…” I hesitated, then forced it out. “Keep looking. Please.”
I wasn't sure that I could handle heartbreak again.
Layla sighed, dramatic, like she was being asked to do charity work.
“You want me to keep digging into the man you’re emotionally attached to.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to continue investigating your husband.”
“Yes.”
Layla blinked slowly.
“You are insane.”
My mouth twitched. “Probably.”
Layla shook her head, lips curling again. “God, this is going to end horribly.”
“Layla...”
“I’m kidding,” she said quickly. “Mostly.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Mostly?”
She held up her hands. “Fine. I’ll keep looking. For your peace of mind.”
Relief loosened something in my chest.
“Thank you.”
Layla’s eyes gleamed again, mischief returning.
“But just so we’re clear—”
“Layla…”
“I will be unbearable about this.”
I groaned. “Please don’t.”
“Oh, I absolutely will.”
She leaned forward, ready to pounce with another teasing remark—
And then the door clicked.
Both of us froze.
The sound was quiet and familiar. It was Jack.
My breath caught before I could control it.
Layla’s eyes flicked to mine, sharp with interest.
The door opened, and Jack stepped inside.
He looked slightly wind-worn, like the hospital air had clung to him. His sleeves were rolled up, his jaw faintly tense, and there was something tired behind his eyes.
Layla straightened immediately, composure sliding back into place.
Jack paused when he saw her.
“Layla.”
She stood, offering him a small smile. “Jack.”
His expression softened slightly. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Just thought I should stop by,” she replied smoothly.
He nodded once, then his gaze shifted and settled on me.
Something in the room changed as Jack’s eyes held mine, and I felt suddenly too exposed in my robe, in my mess, in the softness I hadn’t meant to show anyone.
Then he looked away, staring ahead at nothing in particular, like he needed a second to steady himself.
And quietly, he said—
“Julian’s still unconscious.”
My brows furrowed immediately. “Really?”
He nodded slowly. “Spent the whole morning there. No change. The doctors say he’s stable, but…” His jaw tightened. “It’s like he’s not really there.”
My chest ached at the helplessness in his voice.
Then I stood slowly, moving toward him without thinking.
“Jack…”
He didn’t move.
So I closed the distance and rested my hand lightly against his arm.
“He’s alive,” I said softly. “That matters more than anything, it's something.”
His eyes flicked down to my hand, then back up. “It doesn’t feel like something.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But it is.”
He exhaled, a slow release.
The silence between us was thick but not uncomfortable, punctuated only by the distant sound of traffic and the occasional creak of the apartment settling.
Then, unexpectedly—
Jack’s voice shifted, like he was almost determined.
“You want to do something fun?”
I blinked.
“What?”
He glanced toward Layla. “You can join in too.”
Layla’s brows lifted. “Oh, absolutely not.”
Jack ignored her.
Elena shifted slightly, half-lifting her head from the armrest again. “Fun?” I repeated, skeptical.
“Yeah,” Jack said, pushing himself fully into the living room. “I think we should try out my grandma’s baking ideas.”
That earned a weak, curious arch of my brow.
“Your grandma?” I echoed.
He nodded, settling on the edge of the coffee table so he could face me directly.
“I spent most of my years with her,” he said, his voice softer now. “She was the kind of woman who believed anything could be fixed with the right pie crust.”
My lips twitched despite myself.
“When I turned eighteen,” he continued, “I decided I was grown enough to move out on my own. Thought I had it all figured out.”
I sat up slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Something gentle shifted in my chest.
“What about your mum?” I asked, my voice was careful, almost hesitant.
Jack’s silence filled the room.
Layla, for once, didn’t interrupt.
Jack’s gaze dropped, his fingers flexing slightly like the question had pulled at something old.
“I wasn't able to spend that much time with her,” he said finally.
The words were quiet but they landed like a heavy weight.
I bit my bottom lip, emotion catching unexpectedly in my throat.
The idea of someone growing up with that kind of absence… stitched into their beginnings…It made my chest ache.
I blinked quickly.
“Despite everything,” I murmured, “you grew up just fine.”
Jack glanced up at me then and a real, lopsided smile broke through the heaviness.
“You think?”
“I know,” I replied, standing and reaching my hand toward him.
His eyes flicked down to my hand.
Then up again. The air between us tightened, warm and dangerous.
Then Layla cleared her throat loudly.
Neither of us moved.
Then she said, dry as sand—
“Well, this is revolting.”
Jack’s head turned slightly. “Excuse me?”
Layla gestured vaguely between us. “You know the emotional intimacy? The yearning, the tragic backstory... I think I’m going to get cavities.”
I groaned. “Layla.”
She stood, stretching dramatically.
“If you two start slow dancing in the kitchen, I swear I’m calling the board.”
Jack’s mouth twitched.
And I couldn’t help it, a laugh escaped me...