Married to the cold CEO のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

As the city clock struck ten, the sound echoed through Elena’s mind like a countdown she couldn’t stop. The message on her phone still glowed against the dark — “Meet me at 10 p.m. — alone.”She sat in her car, parked a few blocks away from the Silverline Hotel — Vivienne Roth’s last known residence. Rain slicked the streets, reflecting the shimmering glow of streetlights and the blur of passing cars. Every instinct in her body screamed that this was a trap, but curiosity, mixed with something dangerously close to desperation, kept her rooted to the spot.Damian hadn’t spoken to her since that morning. His last words still replayed in her mind — cold, clipped, and full of doubt. She hated how easily he could wound her, how deeply his silence could cut. Yet even now, part of her longed for him to appear, to stop her from going inside.But he didn’t.So Elena took a breath, pulled her coat tighter around herself, and stepped into the night.Inside, the hotel lobby was quiet — too quiet.

What happens when truth itself turns into a weapon? That was the question echoing in Elena’s mind as she stood outside the boardroom of Cross Industries, heart pounding against her ribs. She had spent the entire night tracing every thread of evidence she could find—emails, system logs, camera entries—anything that could prove her innocence. And now, standing here, on the edge of the empire that Damian once ruled with unshakable control, she knew this was her moment to fight back.Inside the boardroom, voices were raised, cold and sharp. The board members—men and women in pristine suits—were in chaos. Words like “breach,” “trust,” and “investigation” cut through the air. At the head of the long mahogany table sat Damian Cross himself, composed as ever, but his stillness was deceptive. His jaw was clenched, his fingers interlaced, and his storm-gray eyes never left the screen in front of him.“Gentlemen,” he said finally, his voice calm but commanding, “I assure you, Cross Industries re

How did it come to this? That was the question that echoed in Elena’s mind as she stood in the grand foyer of Cross Tower, the marble floors gleaming beneath the cold white lights. Her phone was clutched tightly in her hand, still showing the breaking news headline that had shaken their entire world.“Cross Empire Under Investigation for Cover-Up.”She couldn’t breathe. Every word in that article felt like a blade cutting deeper into the fragile foundation Damian had built — and into the little trust she had managed to grow between them.The elevator chimed. She turned sharply, heart racing, and saw him step out — Damian Cross, every inch of his presence wrapped in dark authority and storm-like energy. His tie was gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, and his expression carved from pure fury.“Where have you been?” she demanded, voice trembling despite her effort to sound calm.He brushed past her without answering, heading straight toward his office. “Not now, Elena.”“Yes, now,” she snappe

By the time the city lights shimmered beyond the glass walls of the Cross Tower, the storm outside had turned the skyline into a watercolor blur. Elena stood near the window, her reflection faint in the glass, watching the rain as if it could drown out the confusion that clouded her mind. Hours had passed since the confrontation in the boardroom, and still, Damian hadn’t returned.Adrian had called once, saying that Damian had gone to meet with Julian Crane—his rival, his enemy—and that the discussion was “personal.” That word alone had kept Elena restless. Personal. When it came to Damian, that usually meant dangerous.She clasped her hands in front of her, the faint scent of his cologne still lingering in the air. It had become something of a silent comfort over the past weeks, even though she didn’t want to admit it. The mansion, once cold and silent, now felt like a breathing thing—alive with secrets, pulsing with unspoken words between them.She turned when the elevator chimed. F

What startled Elena most that morning wasn’t the silence, but how heavy it felt—like a curtain drawn over something dangerous. Damian had returned from an early board meeting, his tie loosened, his eyes unreadable. The light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows painted him in gold, yet his expression carried the weight of night.“Are you going to stand there and watch me all day?” he asked, voice low, rough.Elena blinked. She hadn’t realized she’d been staring. “You didn’t tell me you’d be back so soon.”“I didn’t think I had to.”There it was again—the edge, the coldness that came and went like a tide. It had softened in recent weeks, melting into moments of unexpected tenderness. But today, something was wrong.He tossed a file onto the table between them. “Do you know Julian Crane met with Vivienne last night?”Her stomach dropped. “What?”“Exactly,” he said bitterly, pouring himself a drink though it was barely past ten. “Julian is planning something. And Vivienne… she’s