Chapter 63 --63. (Elena: 1. Nicole: 0). - Divorcing My Cold Hearted Celebrity Husband. - NovelsTime

Divorcing My Cold Hearted Celebrity Husband.

Chapter 63 --63. (Elena: 1. Nicole: 0).

Author: SRISHTI_CHOUDHARY
updatedAt: 2025-09-09

CHAPTER 63: CHAPTER-63. (ELENA: 1. NICOLE: 0).

"A promise?"

The word slipped from his lips like velvet, smooth but sharp enough to cut. His eyes held mine, steady, unblinking, as if daring me to repeat myself.

"Yes," I said. My voice was steady, though my insides were quaking. "A promise."

He tilted his head slightly, that faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Not a warm smile. Never warm.

It was the kind that made your stomach twist, as if he already knew the ending to a game you hadn’t even figured out yet.

"And what makes you think you can keep it?" he asked. His tone was curious, almost amused, but I could hear the steel under it. A hidden warning.

I didn’t answer right away. My silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I forced my shoulders not to curl in, forced my chin to stay high.

"Because I don’t back down. Not when the truth is at stake."

"The truth?" his voice echoed, "And what exactly is this truth?"

I sharpened my gaze at him, "A Few days back, when you woke up you found yourself in a hotel."

I paused as the tension rose through the roof, and his breath started to get hollow, "In a very compromised state."

The words dropped like a bomb.

His composure faltered for the briefest second. Just a flicker in his eyes, the kind you’d miss if you weren’t staring hard enough.

But I caught it. Oh, I definitely caught it.

I leaned in slightly, letting the silence stretch. "You remember, don’t you?" I asked softly, almost taunting.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, slow, controlled, like a man forcing himself not to slam a fist through the wall.

"That’s quite the story," he finally said. His tone was smooth, but now it carried a razor’s edge. "Careful, Elena. Lies can be dangerous. They have a way of... turning back on the one who speaks them."

"Funny," I shot back, folding my arms, "that you didn’t deny it outright. That you didn’t laugh in my face and call me delusional. Almost like you’re scared someone else might hear what I just said."

His jaw tightened. Subtle, but visible. Elena: 1. Nicole: 0.

He took a single step closer, and suddenly it felt like the room had shrunk in half. My pulse stuttered, but I stood my ground. My nails dug into my palms, anchoring me in place.

"You think you’re clever," he murmured, voice low enough that it brushed against my ears like smoke. "Throwing around accusations, pretending you’ve got the upper hand. But let me make one thing clear."

His face was so close now I could see the flecks of gold in his irises, the cold calculation in his gaze.

"You have no proof."

My lips curled into the faintest smirk. "Who said I don’t?"

That stopped him. His eyes narrowed, studying me, as if trying to peel away my words and see the truth underneath. He was searching for cracks. For hesitation.

But I gave him nothing. I kept my face blank, my voice steady, even as my heart thumped like a war drum.

He tilted his head, almost predator-like. "You’re bluffing."

"Maybe," I said. "Or maybe I’ve got something tucked away where even you can’t reach it. Something that could shatter this perfect little mask you wear."

Another silence. His breathing had gone shallow, like he was wrestling with himself.

Then he laughed. Low. Dark. A sound that wasn’t meant to be funny at all. "You’re playing with fire, Elena. Fire doesn’t care if you’re brave. It burns anyway."

"And maybe," I shot back, my smirk widening just a fraction, "I like watching liars get burned."

The air between us was electric now. Charged. Like the moment before lightning strikes.

He stepped back at last, just a small movement, but it loosened the invisible grip around my chest. His expression had shifted again—smooth, composed, but not perfect. Not flawless. I had chipped something, even if only a little.

He studied me for a long, unbearable moment. "If you really do have proof," he said finally, "then you’re already in more danger than you realize. Because people who know too much..."

He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air like a blade above my head.

I refused to flinch. "Then I’ll take my chances," I said. "Better that than staying silent and letting you play everyone like pawns."

Another flicker. Just the tiniest crack in his armor again. He hated that I wasn’t bending. That I wasn’t giving him the reaction he wanted.

His smile returned, thin, sharp, unsettling. "Bold words. Let’s see how long that courage lasts."

I raised an eyebrow, my voice dry. "Long enough to make sure you don’t win, at least."

He chuckled again, but it wasn’t light this time. It was heavy, deliberate, like he was filing the sound away as a warning.

Then, with the calm of someone who thought time was on his side, he straightened, smoothing down his jacket. "We’ll see, Elena. We’ll see."

He turned toward the door, his steps measured, each one echoing louder than they should have in the room’s silence.

But just before leaving, he paused at the doorway. His head turned slightly, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.

"Be careful what you promise. Because if you fail to keep it..." His eyes gleamed, sharp and merciless. "...you won’t just lose the game. You’ll lose everything."

And with that, he was gone.

The room felt emptier without him, but not lighter. The shadows seemed heavier, the air thicker.

My legs finally gave in, and I sank into the nearest chair, my hands trembling now that he couldn’t see them.

I pressed my palms against my knees, trying to steady my breathing. I had won a small round, yes. I had gotten under his skin, seen the flickers in his mask. But he was right about one thing.

I was playing with fire.

And if I wasn’t careful, it wouldn’t just be him who got burned.

It would be me.

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