All Chapters of LEVEL UP MY COLD CEO {MxM}: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Gloss POV His fingers were still around my wrist when the world snapped back into motion. I could hear the lobby again, phones ringing, shoes clicking on marble, the faint hum of the revolving doors. But all of it stayed on the other side of the moment we were sharing. His grip wasn’t tight, but it felt firm enough to pull every heartbeat in my chest toward him. “Then help me change, please.” Those words echoed inside me long after he said them. I didn’t trust myself to speak. I only stared at him, watching the fear flicker behind his usually unreadable expression. Dream never begged for anything. Not deals, not respect, not control. He demanded or commanded, but never pleaded. But right now, he wasn’t the cold CEO, the calculating genius, or the man who could silence a room with one raised brow. He was just… Dream. A man terrified of losing me. And like an idiot, that was what finally broke me. I let out a slow breath and nodded once. His hold on my wrist loosened. Not becaus

Gloss POV I woke up with my heart racing. Not the kind of racing that comes from a bad dream or a nightmare. This was the kind that comes from remembering something real, something impossible, something that shouldn’t have happened but absolutely did. Dream kissed me. Dream kissed me, and I kissed him back like I’d been waiting for it my entire life. The memory hit me hard, sharp, warm, terrifying. My cheeks heated instantly and I threw an arm over my face, groaning into the pillow. “What the hell…” My chest felt too tight, like someone had trapped my ribs in a vice. The room felt hot, too bright even though the curtains were drawn. I sat up, rubbing my face, trying to force myself to breathe normally. Last night… The office… The tension… His voice, almost breaking… I can’t pretend anymore. God. I pressed my palms to my eyes. I didn’t know how long I sat there breathing unevenly, but eventually I found the courage to lower my hands and face the world. Or at least face m

Gloss POV The night air hit me like a wall of cold water, sharp and unforgiving, as I stepped out of the building. The city lights flickered against wet pavement, neon signs buzzing faintly in the drizzle. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t care. The only thing I knew was that I had to disappear. For Dream. For me. For the chaos he didn’t deserve but that clung to him because of me. My bag swung heavily against my shoulder. My coat hugged my body, but it wasn’t warmth I wanted, it was distance. Distance from him, distance from Adrian, distance from the world that kept dragging him closer to danger while I remained… useless if I stayed. “Gloss, stop,” my system chirped, but the voice was more pleading than commanding, and I ignored it. Warning: “Leaving now will reduce affection progress by 20%. Risk: High.” I ignored it. Every alert, every beep, every nagging recommendation. I’d spent months trying to control everything, trying to calculate every risk, every outcome, every

Gloss POV The air in the office felt charged, like the calm before a storm that no one could predict. I could feel it in my bones, a quiet tension that thrummed beneath the fluorescent lights, in the hum of the computers, in the faint click of heels on polished floors. The system had pinged this morning with a notification that lingered in my head like an addictive song: System Alert: “Affection Stage: Nearing Final. Completion Imminent.” I glanced at Dream from across the shared office, the late-afternoon sunlight slicing through the blinds and catching the sharp angles of his face. He was leaning over a pile of financial projections, brows furrowed, lips pressed together, completely absorbed, completely intense. Even after everything, the scandals, the chaos, Adrian, the media frenzy, he was still the same Dream. The same man who had my heart, my trust, my obsession, whether I wanted to admit it or not. I rubbed my palms together, trying to shake off the nervous excitement that

Dream's POV I hear the faintest hiss first, like static rolling over a wire, crawling over my skin. My eyes snap open, scanning the debris, the smoke, the twisted metal around us. And then I hear it again, soft, mechanical, familiar, fading. My chest tightens, my pulse spiking with terror. “Gloss?” My voice breaks as I crawl closer, dragging the weight of him against my chest. Blood seeps through his clothes, streaked across my hands, sticky, warm, unbearable. I shake him lightly. “Gloss, talk to me. Open your eyes, goddammit!” No response. My system alerts ping softly in my mind, a cruel mimic of the one I know is gone. But then… nothing. Just silence. I glance down and see his eyes closed, pale, lashes trembling against bruised skin. His chest moves shallowly, almost imperceptibly, and my stomach drops into a pit of ice. He’s alive, barely, but the system, the thing that has guided, pushed, and occasionally tormented him, is fading. And with it, something vital, tethering him t