All Chapters of Married to the cold CEO: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Silence lingered in the car long after the city lights had faded behind them.Elena sat rigid, hands folded neatly in her lap, watching reflections of passing trees streak across the tinted window like ghosts. Damian’s hand rested casually on the steering wheel, his other arm draped over the console. He looked calm — too calm — for someone who had just humiliated Julian Crane in front of an entire board of directors.She could still hear his words echoing in her mind.“Touch her again, and you’ll find yourself bankrupt by dawn.”He had said it coldly, almost lazily, but there had been a fire behind his eyes. A fire that hadn’t been for show.Elena exhaled shakily. “You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured.Damian’s gaze didn’t shift from the road. “Do what?”“Threaten him like that. You only made things worse for yourself.”His jaw flexed. “For myself, or for you?”Her pulse fluttered. She turned to him, meeting his eyes for the briefest moment. “For both of us. You can’t just contro

Damp air lingered in the corridors of the Cross mansion, a faint scent of mahogany and memories twisting through the silence. Elena stood in front of the grand staircase, clutching a small, dust-covered box she had found buried in the corner of Damian’s study. Her pulse thudded softly against her ribs. Something about the weight of the box felt different—like it carried pieces of a life long hidden from her eyes.She hesitated before opening it. The sound of rain had stopped hours ago, leaving only the soft hum of the city beyond the gates. Her mind drifted to Damian—his cold gaze earlier that day when she had asked why Julian Crane’s name appeared in one of the company’s old reports. His silence had been sharper than any answer.Inside the box were photographs—old, grainy, and brittle with age. A young boy, no older than eight, stood in front of an orphanage gate. Behind him, a woman’s figure was blurred, as if time itself had refused to keep her clearly remembered. At the bottom of

The city hadn’t yet woken, but the world inside Cross Enterprises was already restless. Elevators hummed, lights flickered to life, and in the top-floor office of glass and steel, Damian Cross faced his reflection as though it were a stranger.His tie hung loose, his usually perfect composure fractured by a sleepless night. He had barely closed his eyes—every time he did, Elena’s voice echoed: Who is she?He’d built an empire on control. But now, for the first time, someone had stolen his peace with nothing but a question.A quiet knock.“Come in,” he said.Adrian Cole stepped inside, a tablet tucked under one arm, a look of concern shadowing his face. “Sir, there’s something you should see.”He set the tablet down. The screen displayed an email thread—anonymous, untraceable—but the attachment was the same photograph that had landed in Elena’s hands. Damian’s jaw locked.“It’s everywhere in whispers,” Adrian said softly. “No public release yet, but Crane’s people are hinting to report

Whispers followed Elena down the corridor like invisible shadows. Every step she took through Cross Enterprises felt heavier than the last. The employees had begun to notice—quick glances, hushed tones, an extra second of silence when she passed. Word traveled faster than truth in this building. And after Julian’s ambush, it seemed lies had already taken root.She clutched the folder in her hand, its edges digging into her palm, as if pain could anchor her somewhere steady. The meeting room door loomed ahead, where the senior board awaited the emergency briefing Damian had called. She didn’t want to face him—not after last night. Not after he’d looked at her like she was the bullet aimed at his heart.Still, she squared her shoulders and entered.Inside, Damian stood at the head of the long glass table, his suit impeccable, his expression unreadable. Every executive in the room fell silent the moment she appeared. His gaze flicked to her—cold, controlled, and distant.“Mrs. Cross,” he

Before the world awoke, the mansion stood drenched in mist, its tall glass windows catching faint streaks of dawn. Elena sat at the edge of the balcony, coffee untouched, watching the fog coil around the marble columns below. Sleep had been impossible. Her mind replayed Damian’s confession over and over — I forgot it was fake.It shouldn’t have mattered. Yet it did. More than she wanted to admit.Down below, the staff moved quietly, setting up the morning like a well-rehearsed performance. From this high, the house looked perfect. But she had seen the cracks — not in the marble, but in the man who lived inside it.“Early again.” The familiar, cool voice came from behind her. Damian leaned against the doorway, already dressed in his signature black suit, cufflinks gleaming like polished ice. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes — sharper than usual — studied her in silence.“Couldn’t sleep,” she murmured.“Any particular reason?” he asked, stepping closer.“Just thoughts,” she s