All Chapters of Married to the cold CEO: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Since the night Damian’s old rival resurfaced, the air in the Cross Empire building had changed. The usual buzz of keyboards and heels clicking down marble floors now carried a current of unease—like everyone knew something was about to snap but didn’t know from where.Elena sat behind her desk in the executive suite, her pen hovering over the same line of a document she had been pretending to read for the last twenty minutes. Her pulse had refused to calm since morning. Word had spread that Damian was meeting with Marcus Blackwell—his estranged stepbrother and the one man who could tear everything apart.Her phone buzzed once. A message from Bella.> “Security just saw Marcus enter Damian’s office. Alone.”Alone. That word clawed through her chest. She stood quickly, almost knocking over her coffee, and took a breath to steady her hands. The meeting wasn’t on the official schedule. Damian hadn’t told her.“Elena?” Adrian’s voice came softly from behind. He leaned against the doorfram

As dawn broke through the tall glass windows of the Cross Empire penthouse, the storm from the night before had left the city washed clean. But inside Damian’s home, there was no calm—only the silent thrum of dread.Elena stood in the kitchen, watching the coffee drip, her mind replaying Damian’s words: Vivienne has the footage.Footage of a fire. Of a death. Of everything he had tried to bury.She didn’t need to ask how dangerous it was. If Vivienne truly had evidence linking Damian to that night, she wouldn’t just use it to ruin him—she’d use it to own him.Footsteps echoed down the hall. Damian entered, dressed in black, his hair still damp from the shower, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.“You didn’t sleep,” she said softly.“Neither did you.” His tone was quiet but distant, almost mechanical. He picked up the cup she’d poured for him and stared into it like it held answers. “Vivienne wants to meet.”Elena’s stomach tightened. “Where?”“At the Arcadia Hotel. Two hours from now.”

Footsteps echoed through the empty corridor of the Cross mansion as Elena wrapped a coat around her shoulders. The rain had softened into a drizzle, but the night was far from quiet—each gust of wind whispered warnings she tried to ignore.She glanced at her phone one last time.Unknown number: If you want to know what Damian Cross is hiding, meet me at the old Whitestone warehouse. Midnight.It was 11:47.Her pulse raced with every second that slipped away. She knew she should tell Damian. She knew he would forbid her from going. But the photograph of his mother and the haunted look in his eyes earlier kept replaying in her mind. He had buried something—something even he feared to face.And if Marcus was the key to unlocking that truth, she had to go.Outside, the mansion gates loomed like black iron sentinels. The guardhouse was empty—unusual, but perhaps fate’s quiet permission. Elena slipped through, her heels sinking slightly into the wet gravel. The city lights shimmered faintly

Lights from the city glimmered below the skyscraper, sharp and restless like shards of glass scattered across a velvet night. Elena barely noticed them. She sat at her desk in Damian’s office, the faint hum of the air conditioner competing with the storm inside her chest.Sleep hadn’t come last night. Not after what she’d seen on the video—the blurred struggle, the way Damian’s face had twisted with guilt before the footage cut out. Every moment since had felt like she was standing on a trembling bridge, knowing it could collapse at any second.The elevator chimed softly behind her. Footsteps followed.Elena didn’t turn until the familiar scent of Damian’s cologne wrapped around her like smoke.“Morning,” he said flatly. His tone was polished marble—smooth, cold, hiding the cracks beneath.“Morning,” she replied without looking up.He crossed the room, his reflection appearing in the glass wall beside her. “You didn’t go home.”“I had work to finish.” She typed another line on her lap

To breathe felt impossible. The air between them had turned dense, thick with everything unsaid. The moment Marcus’s voice faded into the echo of the corridor, Elena realized she was standing at the edge of a truth that could tear everything apart.Damian didn’t move. He stood rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the shattered remains of Marcus’s tablet that now lay across the marble floor. Each flicker of the broken screen threw jagged light across his face, carving out shadows that made him look more human—and more haunted—than she had ever seen him.Elena swallowed hard. “You have to tell me what happened.”He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked slowly to the window and pressed his palm to the glass. The city shimmered below, indifferent to the storm unraveling above it.“To lose everything,” he began quietly, “you first have to believe you ever had something worth keeping.”The sorrow in his tone made her chest ache. “Damian, what are you saying?”He closed his eyes, as if forcing