All Chapters of His Cold CEO: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Chapter Forty-One: The Spiral POV: Noah The world felt too quiet. Not peaceful. Not still. Just… muted. Like someone had turned the volume down on life and Noah was trapped inside a vacuum. The city still buzzed outside the penthouse windows—cars, lights, headlines flashing across buildings—but none of it reached him. He stood barefoot in the bathroom, toothbrush in hand but motionless, staring at the mirror. The man reflected back didn’t look like the boy from the press conference anymore. He looked… hollow. Hollow, and a little haunted. The bruises on his collarbone were healing, but Elias’s bite was still faintly visible—proof of passion and pain. A reminder that even in chaos, Elias loved him like a storm: reckless, relentless, real. But love didn’t cancel out the headlines. “Noah Bell: The Gold-Digging Nobody Who Took Down a CEO.” “Ex-Prostitute or Strategic Partner? Inside the Scandal.” “What Does This Say About Elias Thorne’s Mental Fitness?” And beneath every sens

Chapter 43: Mine, StillPOV: EliasNoah’s voice was a drug—low, trembling, soaked in unsaid things. And Elias was drowning in it.“I’m not scared of you,” Noah whispered, fingers curling in Elias’ shirt, clutching it like a lifeline. “I’m scared of what you make me feel.”Elias didn’t flinch. He didn’t breathe.Because that—that was everything.He framed Noah’s face with both hands, like he was touching something sacred, something he never believed he’d be allowed to have. His thumbs brushed the high points of Noah’s cheekbones. His forehead dropped against Noah’s.“Then feel it,” Elias said, voice cracking open like glass under pressure. “Whatever it is. I’ll take it all.”Their mouths met in the middle—urgent, reverent, bruising.Noah melted against him like he’d been waiting for this kiss his whole life. Like it was a homecoming and a reckoning all at once. His arms wrapped around Elias’s shoulders, fingers digging into muscle, anchoring himself. He kissed like he was trying to pou

Chapter Forty-Five: The Trial of Elias Thorne POV: Elias The auditorium was full before Elias even arrived. Not journalists. Not shareholders. People. Hundreds of them—some dressed like protestors, others in tailored suits, holding sleek tablets and sharper opinions. The company had called it a “Town Hall Transparency Session,” but Elias knew what it really was: A public crucifixion. He adjusted his cuffs in the elevator, every movement practiced. Sharp. Clean. Unshaken. Across the glossy steel walls, his reflection stared back at him. And for the first time, he wondered: Who do they see when they look at me now? A lover? A liar? A king in freefall? The elevator dinged. Elias stepped out into the fire. Flashes hit him the second he walked in. Not cameras—eyes. Ruthless, waiting eyes. The moderator—someone from external PR—greeted him with a nod. “Mr. Blackthorn, we’re live in three minutes. Are you prepared?” He looked her dead in the eye. “No one’s ever prepared to be di

Chapter 47 – Noah's Win POV: Noah The Thorne & Vale building loomed against the steel-grey sky, a monolithic fortress of glass and ambition. From the back of the sleek black sedan, Noah watched it approach, his reflection a calm, composed mask in the window. No Elias sat beside him. No protective detail. No media escort choreographed for maximum optics. Just him. Noah Hart. Dressed in a suit of deep slate wool, so perfectly tailored it felt like a second skin. On his lapel, a single piece of steelwork: a phoenix, wings swept back in mid-ascent. *Let them remember who burned,* he thought, a cold, sharp clarity settling in his veins. *Let them remember who came back stronger.* He stepped out onto the pavement, the city’s cacophony fading into a distant hum. He didn’t look up at the watching windows. He didn’t need to. He could feel the weight of a thousand eyes, the echo of a thousand whispers. Everyone had seen the headlines. Everyone had dissected the grainy, illicit video. Everyon

Chapter Forty-Nine – The Reckoning POV: Noah The gala was everything Julian Marsh loved—opulence, optics, and control. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead like a ceiling of diamonds. Velvet drapes in imperial blue cascaded from twenty-foot windows. A string quartet played something elegant and forgettable in the corner. Every inch of the ballroom was curated to perfection, like a stage set for the grandest of lies. And in the center of it all stood Julian himself. Tailored tuxedo. Wine glass in hand. Smile sharp enough to bleed. Noah stepped into the room like he was walking into enemy territory. Black suit. Blood-red tie. The color of battle. He spotted Elias by the bar, unmoving, eyes locked on him. There was tension in the set of his shoulders—like he wasn’t sure if Noah was about to win a war or walk into a trap. Noah didn’t blink. Didn’t break. It was both. He crossed the marble floor slowly, each step deliberate, like he was being watched—and he was. Conversatio