Lahat ng Kabanata ng LEVEL UP MY COLD CEO {MxM}: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

Dream's POV The day after the confrontation felt heavier than the storm itself. The air in the office had changed. Every step I took drew whispers, every door I opened silenced the room. Word had spread fast, too fast. By noon, I’d read three different “anonymous” reports claiming that I had bent company policy to defend my “favorite.” That word alone…favorite…was enough to make my blood run cold. Adrian had wasted no time turning the tables. I sat in my office, the blinds half-drawn, watching the skyline through the faint reflection of my phone. My inbox was full of complaints, questions, and veiled warnings from the board. They wanted an explanation, something to satisfy the rumors before investors started panicking. But how could I explain something I hadn’t done wrong? I rubbed my temples. The door opened quietly, and I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Gloss. He stepped in with hesitant steps, eyes low, expression uncertain. He looked tired, worn down by everythi

Dream's POV I should have known something was wrong the second I stepped into the hall. The air was too quiet, too expectant, like a performance waiting for the wrong cue. Gloss had insisted on a small company dinner for my birthday, something low-key and professional. But the second the lights dimmed, and the projector behind me flickered to life, I saw it, the rooftop, the candles, the setup. Gloss’s setup. My chest tightened instantly. The images flashed across the screen, a rooftop table surrounded by scattered petals, a small cake half melted from the wind, a single empty chair facing the skyline. The whispers began before I could move. “Wait, wasn’t that the penthouse roof?” “Was that supposed to be for him?” “Who set that up?” Then Adrian’s voice sliced through the murmurs, smooth, loud, dripping with feigned innocence. “Such a shame, isn’t it? Gloss spent all that time planning a private surprise, only for the birthday boy to miss it completely.” Laughter rippled th

Dream's POV The press stormed the front gates before sunrise. Reporters crowded the glass lobby, flashing cameras through every inch of the glass, shouting my name like it meant something scandalous. Screens all around the building streamed the same breaking headline, ADRIAN BLACKWELL LAUNCHES HIS OWN TECH COMPANY. The man I once trusted had gone public with technology that looked alarmingly like ours. The same design framework, the same project codes, even the same digital aesthetic we had built from the ground up. It was betrayal in its purest, ugliest form. I stood at the top floor, staring out at the skyline as though the city could offer some explanation. The morning sun bled pale gold against the tinted glass, painting a cruel reflection of my face, calm, cold, controlled. But inside, everything was burning. The betrayal twisted deep, not because of the loss, but because I had seen it coming. Adrian had always been ambitious, always reaching for more. But I never imagined he

Dream's POV The first email came early in the morning, before the sun had even fully risen. I was halfway through my first cup of coffee when my laptop pinged with a new message, no subject, no sender name, just a blank header with an attachment icon blinking red. I should have ignored it. I should have deleted it like the dozens of spam mails that came in daily. But something about the way my name was written in the preview, “Dream” , plain and unadorned, caught my attention. No one addressed me like that except the people who knew me personally. I clicked it open. The email body was empty, save for three words written in black text that chilled me instantly. “Miss me yet?” Below it, an attachment, a blurred photograph. My heart thudded as I clicked it. It was a picture of the company building taken from across the street. Recent. The timestamp in the corner was from the night before. Whoever took it had been watching. I sat back, pulse pounding. My coffee had gone cold in m

Adrian's POV The door clicked shut, and the sound echoed through the empty warehouse like a final sentence. I let my fingers linger on the metal handle, feeling the chill of it sink into my skin. One twist, one flick of the lock, and it was done. The trap was sealed. Gloss stood in the middle of the room, the faint light from the flickering bulb above casting uneven shadows across his face. His eyes didn’t flinch, not even now. That irritated me, that stubborn fire in his gaze. He had no idea what kind of game he had stepped into. “Curiosity,” I said, my voice low, smooth, deliberate, “is such an inconvenient trait, isn’t it?” He didn’t answer. His breathing was steady, his shoulders squared. There was fear, yes, I could smell it faintly in the air, but he buried it beneath that false bravado Dream seemed to adore so much. I began to pace slowly around him, each step deliberate. My shoes clicked against the cracked floor, sharp and echoing. The smell of dust, oil, and rust fille