Lahat ng Kabanata ng His Cold CEO: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Chapter Thirty-Two: Don’t Mistake Me for the Weak Link POV: Noah He was still sore. That perfect, bone-deep ache radiating through his thighs, his throat, the curve of his spine. It lingered like Elias’s signature etched into his skin—a testament to the hours before dawn when control had shattered into breathless surrender. Every shift in his chair, every measured step, was a reminder. Of teeth scraping his collarbone. Of the final, devastating thrust that had stolen his voice. Of Elias’s growl, possessive and primal, against his sweat-slicked temple: *"Let them watch. But only I get to touch."* Noah sipped his coffee slowly, seated at his desk an hour early. One leg was crossed over the other, the fine wool of his navy suit pulling taut over his thigh. The fabric was tailored to perfection, hugging the lean lines of his body like armor. There was a bruise behind his left ear—dark, deliberate, almost artful against his skin. A brand. He left it uncovered. *Let them look.*

Chapter Thirty-Four: Collateral LoyaltyPOV: Noah---Noah didn’t flinch when the boardroom doors closed behind them.He met every calculating gaze with the cold, practiced calm of someone who had been underestimated one too many times. His spine straightened, chin tilted—an apex predator in a three-piece suit. The tension in the room was thick, almost theatrical, but Noah barely registered it. His attention was on Elias, who sat to his left—shoulders relaxed, expression unreadable, like this was just another negotiation to win.But beneath the polished surface, Noah felt it.A brush of fingers under the table—quick, deliberate.A signal.A promise.Burn them slowly.---Roarke cleared his throat, trying to mask his nervousness with bravado. “Let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we?”Noah didn’t blink.Roarke leaned forward, smug. “Your relationship—”“—is not up for discussion.” Elias’s voice cut across the table like a blade. Icy, absolute. The kind of tone that ended caree

Chapter Thirty-Six: Blood in the Water POV: Elias It started as a whisper in the digital undercurrent, a malignant ripple distorting the calm surface of his control. Then came the flood. An anonymous leak, meticulously timed, hit the financial news wires just before the markets opened. Attached was a confidential board memo – doctored, twisted, dripping with insinuation – and worse, a private recording. A conversation Elias had never consented to, captured in some unseen moment of vulnerability, now stripped of context and weaponized. By noon, his name wasn't just splashed across headlines; it was being torn apart by piranhas in a feeding frenzy. The language was visceral, predatory: *Unfit. Compromised. Lovesick Tyrant. Verno Holdings Adrift.* The narrative was set, the water chummed. By two o’clock, four board members – Liu, Drey, Malik, and predictably, Roarke – had formally requested an emergency vote of no confidence. Their emails landed like formal declarations of war, copied

Chapter 38: The Fall Before the Rise Elias Elias Thorne Blackthorn had made peace with ruin. What he hadn’t prepared for—was this kind of ruin. The boardroom was a tomb of power. Chrome, glass, silence. The same room where he'd once closed billion-dollar mergers now bristled with tension thick enough to choke on. Around the long obsidian table, thirty-two partners sat in silence. The last press inquiry had just gone live. At the far end, seated like a ghost in tailored linen, Julian Marsh was smiling. “You always did love being a spectacle,” Julian said lightly, tapping a finger on the NDA Elias had once forced him to sign. “Sleeping with your assistant. Promoting him. Paying for his housing. What were you thinking? You gave me everything I needed to blow you wide open.” Elias said nothing. He didn’t flinch. Not even when Noah’s name started flashing across the projector—twisted headlines, anonymous sources, speculation about their months-long affair. A woman in HR spoke up. “

Chapter Forty: Yours, Even in Ruin POV: Elias Elias was staring at the same financial report for the third time in an hour, but the numbers blurred and twisted, meaningless. That wasn’t like him. He could usually pull focus through a nuclear war, much less a market dip. But this? This wasn’t a report problem. It was a Noah problem. A his Noah is cracking and there’s nothing he can do about it problem. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. The penthouse was too quiet, the city humming in the distance like static under his skin. Noah had gone to his studio earlier that morning and hadn’t returned. Not even a text. It was the silences that haunted Elias. The quiet between their conversations. The way Noah looked at him lately—tender, but distant, like he was rehearsing a goodbye in his head. No. Fuck no. He stood abruptly and strode to the elevator, punching in the code that took him to Noah’s private studio three floors down. The lights were off. Canvas leaned ag