Married to the cold CEO のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

Because the night had been too perfect, Elena should have known something was about to go wrong.The elevator doors slid shut behind her with a quiet hum, trapping her inside the mirrored box with the last person she wanted to see—Vivienne Roth. Damian’s ex-fiancée. The woman whose perfume still lingered faintly in the corners of his private office.Vivienne smiled, the kind of smile that made people instinctively guard their secrets. Her red lips curved slightly, like she already knew she’d won before the battle even began.“Well,” she murmured, glancing at Elena’s reflection in the elevator’s polished steel wall. “Mrs. Cross. Still playing the dutiful wife, I see.”Elena’s hands tightened on the folder she was carrying. “If you have something to say, say it directly.”“Oh, I have plenty to say,” Vivienne said, stepping closer. “But I prefer saving it for the right audience. Perhaps your husband? Or the press?”Elena forced a calm breath. “You’ve had your chance with Damian. You lost

The silence in the elevator stretched like a held breath.As the floors slid past, Elena tried to still her racing heart, but the memory of Julian Crane’s smug smile during the meeting refused to fade. His words had been calm, polite even, but behind every syllable, she sensed venom — a veiled threat directed not only at Damian’s empire but at Damian himself.She stole a glance at him beside her. Damian’s jaw was set like carved marble, his eyes a storm beneath the sheen of calm. The lights reflected off the elevator walls, throwing cold flashes across his expression — an expression that revealed nothing, and yet, everything.“Julian knows something,” she said finally, breaking the stillness.Damian’s gaze didn’t shift. “He’s fishing. That’s what rivals do.”“But he mentioned her,” Elena pressed softly. “Vivienne. He said she was seen in his building last week.”Damian’s hand twitched slightly at his side, and that was all the confirmation she needed. The steel façade was cracking aga

One day, Elena stood by the glass window of Cross Industries’ top floor, staring down at the city that glimmered like a web of secrets. The sunlight touched the towers gently, but she felt none of its warmth. Her reflection in the window looked composed—impeccably dressed, calm—but inside her, the storm she’d been holding back was breaking loose.The gala from the night before replayed in her head—Vivienne’s smug smirk, the whispers from the board members, and, worst of all, the unreadable expression on Damian’s face when Julian Crane had made that cryptic remark: “Some masks are stitched too tight, even love can’t tear them off.”Elena couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was something Damian was hiding—something darker than pride or pain.She turned when the door clicked open. Adrian entered, his tie slightly loose, exhaustion evident in his eyes. “Mrs. Cross,” he said quietly, “Mr. Cross just arrived from the harbor site. He asked for you in his private office.”Her heart jumped. “Did

What started as a regular morning in the Cross Industries headquarters soon unraveled into something else entirely. Elena had grown used to the rhythm of the office — the soft hum of computers, the sharp clicks of heels on marble, and the occasional whispered gossip that seemed to stop when she entered the room. But today, there was a tension in the air she couldn’t ignore. People glanced at her and then quickly turned away. Even the interns seemed unusually quiet.She stepped into the executive elevator, clutching her tablet, her reflection staring back at her — calm, composed, elegant. On the inside, her stomach twisted. Something was wrong. Damian hadn’t returned home last night, and his phone had gone straight to voicemail. That wasn’t new, but it felt different this time.When the elevator doors slid open, she was met with the sight of Vivienne Roth — poised, stunning, and dangerous — standing right outside Damian’s office door with a smirk that could slice through glass.“Elena,

The night stretched endlessly as Elena followed Damian through the vast, echoing halls of the Cross mansion.He hadn’t said a word since the threatening message arrived. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, but Elena could sense the storm raging beneath his calm.He stopped in front of a massive oak door she had never seen unlocked before. It was old—different from the sleek, modern architecture of the rest of the house. The handle was brass, worn from use, and an intricate “C” insignia was carved deep into its surface.“Whatever happens,” he murmured, his hand hovering over the doorknob, “you didn’t see this place. You don’t mention it. Not to Bella, not to Adrian, not to anyone.”Elena crossed her arms, standing her ground. “You can’t expect me to walk blindly into another one of your secrets.”He turned to her then—eyes softer than they’d been in weeks. “You already walked into my past tonight. This one… might decide our future.”Before she could question him further, he