All Chapters of The CEO’s Temptation : Chapter 241 - Chapter 250

--- *******************************(Claire’s POV)********************** Morning came slowly, as if the sun itself hesitated before touching the earth. Pale light bled through the huge curtains, tracing faint lines across the floorboards, reaching toward me where I lay tangled in sheets that still smelled faintly of Mack. My eyes stayed closed, not because I was tired, but because waking meant remembering. And remembering meant feeling everything all over again. Eve’s words had stayed with me like a stain. I could still hear her voice — smooth, venomous, certain-the way she twisted my existence into a crime, as if Liam’s death had been written into my hands before I’d even touched him. She turned everything upside-down, making me the culprit of his crimes, not yet, but that's what she wants to do. For a long moment, I just lay there on the bed, my fingers curled loosely in the edge of the blanket, letting my thoughts tangle and untangle again. Mack was somewhere in the hous

************************* Mack’s POV********************* Henry didn’t keep me waiting. He never did, not when the air between us hummed like this—thick with unspoken things neither of us had the stomach to pretend away. The old study smelled the same as it had when I was a boy—polished mahogany, leather, faint traces of cigar smoke clinging to the walls like the memories that lived here. The fire in the grate was low but stubborn, embers glowing a sullen red, and Henry stood with one arm braced on the mantel, a glass of whiskey turning slow in his other hand. “Close the door,” he said without looking at me. His voice was calm, but it had that dangerous stillness that only came when Henry was already several steps ahead of you. I shut it, the click loud in the quiet, and walked to stand opposite him. “We need to talk about your wife.” That got his eyes on me. Not a blink. Just a slow lift of his gaze, dark as the ocean before a storm. “Eve.” “Don’t play neutral with me,”

****************************Mack’s POV********************* The air outside Henry’s house was cold enough to bite, but I barely noticed it. My hands were still warm from the handshake we’d shared, yet my mind was replaying the look in his eyes when I’d brought up Eve—sharp, unreadable, and gone too quickly to pin down. It was the kind of look that stays with you, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. I slid into my car, the door shutting with a muted thud that seemed too final. For a moment, I just sat there, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, staring at the road ahead without seeing it. Henry hadn’t denied anything outright. That was the problem. His silence had been more telling than any admission. I started the engine, letting the quiet hum fill the space. The streets stretched ahead, lined with skeletal trees swaying in the wind, their shadows cutting across the pavement like bars. It wasn’t lost on me—how easy it would be for a predator to hide in shadows like thes

********************************Mack’s POV********************** The second the door closed behind me, I let the mask slip. In the hallway’s muted light, the air felt heavier—thick with the faint scent of polished wood and salt carried in from the ocean. I kept walking because if I stopped now, I’d turn back, and if I turned back, I’d tell her everything. Claire didn’t need everything. Not yet. She’s stronger than she knows, but strength isn’t the same as readiness. And what’s coming—what’s circling around us now—requires more than just grit. It requires knowing exactly where the knife’s edge is and having the will to push back when it cuts. Eve knows how to cut. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out without slowing, thumb sliding over the screen. A message from one of my guys stationed near the eastern perimeter. > No movement yet. But we’re picking up traces—someone’s been here recently. Which meant Eve was playing smart. She’d gotten close enough to rattle

****************************POV: Mack************************* The air in the room felt heavier than it should have. Not with heat, but with the weight of what she’d just done—a choice that had already set threads snapping in places I couldn’t see yet, but could feel. The sound of the clock on the wall ticked louder than usual. Tick. Tick. Tick. Each second was a reminder that this wasn’t just a moment. This was a fracture. A hairline crack in the glass that would only spread, splintering into places I might never be able to mend. Her face was pale, her eyes stubbornly forward like she was bracing against the sting of her own guilt. But the problem wasn’t just guilt—she didn’t regret it enough to undo it. And that was dangerous. I didn’t speak right away. My voice wasn’t ready. My thoughts weren’t neat enough to shape into sentences without setting the whole thing on fire. Outside the window, the world kept moving. Someone across the street laughed—an easy, oblivious laugh.