Todos os capítulos de LEVEL UP MY COLD CEO {MxM}: Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

Dream's POV It started with a headline. “CEO and Secretary Spotted Leaving Penthouse Together at Dawn.” There was even a picture, blurry, but unmistakably us. Gloss had been half-asleep, wearing my oversized hoodie, while I looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Which was true. Unfortunately, the world didn’t care about context. By the time I reached the office, chaos had already taken over. The lobby was crawling with reporters, microphones flashing like weapons. My assistant tried to block them as I walked through, but the questions came flying from every direction. “Mr. Dream! Is it true you’re in a relationship with your secretary?” “Were you together last night at your penthouse?” “Is this why the company canceled the investor’s dinner?” I ignored them, pushing through until the elevator doors slid shut. The silence inside was a relief, cold, sterile, temporary. When I reached my floor, Gloss was already waiting in my office, sitting at my desk like he owned the

Dream's POV The studio lights dimmed after the interview, but the noise didn’t fade. It followed us out like a ghost, echoing through the reporters shouting questions, through the flashes of cameras, through the weight that settled in my chest the moment Adrian’s name was spoken aloud. I managed to smile, to keep my mask on until we reached the car. Gloss walked beside me, waving politely to the crowd, but his hand brushed mine once, subtle, grounding. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. By the time the driver closed the door and the city started to blur past the window, the silence became unbearable. Gloss finally said, “You okay?” I stared straight ahead. “Fine.” He sighed softly, turning his head toward me. “You don’t look fine.” “I said I’m fine.” The words came out sharper than I meant. He didn’t reply, but I could feel it, the flicker of my anger bleeding into him through the bond. His pulse quickened slightly, mirroring my own. I forced myself to take a breath, to pull

Dream's POV The first thing I heard was the alarm. Not the usual morning chime from my wall panel, but the shrill, mechanical scream of a system breach. I shot upright in bed, the red emergency lights flashing through the penthouse like veins of fire. “System, report,” I barked, voice sharp and rough from sleep. No response. Only static. Then, the building itself seemed to shudder, screens flickering, locks disengaging, cameras twitching like they were alive. My breath came quick, cold realization sinking in. This wasn’t just a glitch. Something was inside. I reached for my wrist console, scanning the alerts. Every line of code scrolled in crimson. Unauthorized access, central AI override, encrypted source unknown. Unknown? No. Not unknown. I’d seen that encryption before. Years ago. Adrian. The thought hit like ice water. I froze, staring at the corrupted data feed as fragments of his old coding signature bled through, the patterns, the encryption rhythm, even the precise sy

Dream's POV The air was too still. The hum of the machines around me wasn’t comforting anymore, it was mocking, rhythmic, sterile, lifeless. Gloss’s body lay limp on the cot in the center of the room, wires tangled around him like silver vines. His eyes fluttered now and then, but they never opened. He wasn’t here. He was somewhere else, inside the system, fighting a ghost I should’ve deleted a long time ago. I didn’t know how long he’d been in there. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like a slow bleed through my veins. The holographic interface above him showed flickering code, looping commands that made no sense. I’d built the system myself, line by line, confident in its perfection. Now, it was a battlefield, and every keystroke I made felt like throwing punches into the void. “Gloss,” I said softly, gripping his hand, hoping he could hear me somehow. His skin was warm but unmoving, the faint pulse beneath his wrist steady yet shallow. “You promised you’d stay.” The system co

Dream's POV The light faded like the last breath of a dying star, and the world returned with a rush of sound. My lungs burned as I dragged in a deep breath, the taste of electricity and blood thick on my tongue. My eyes snapped open to chaos, alarms blaring, screens flickering, the room drenched in the crimson glow of emergency lights. I tried to move, but the weight on my arm held me still. Gloss. He was slumped beside me on the floor, pale, motionless, his fingers still curled around the neural link cable. His chest rose and fell faintly, shallow, but steady enough to make my heart stutter in relief. His hair clung to his forehead, his lips parted slightly as if he were caught between worlds. “Gloss,” I rasped, my throat raw. I reached for him, brushing a hand against his cheek. He was warm, but too still. “Come on, wake up.” No response. The monitors behind us flickered wildly, streams of code racing faster than I could read. The system’s synthetic voice echoed overhead, gl