Lahat ng Kabanata ng Signed Sealed and Divorced. The CEO’s biggest regret: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Three Years Later “Mommy, are we there yet?” A small hand tugged at mine, warm and impatient. I looked down to find my son, Leo, staring up at me with those impossibly familiar gray eyes. His face was a perfect replica of his—sharp jawline, dark waves of hair curling slightly at his temples, and thick lashes framing his wide gaze. Beside him, my daughter, Alina, swung her legs, her golden-brown curls bouncing as she huffed in exasperation. “We’ve been in this car forever!” she complained. I smiled, squeezing both of their hands. “Just a little longer, babies. We’re almost home.” “Home?” Alina scrunched her tiny nose. “But we just left home.” “That was our old home, sweetheart,” I said softly. “Now, we have a new one.” She pursed her lips, considering this. Then, after a moment, she grinned. “I hope it has a big bathtub. I like bubble baths.” Leo, ever the quiet one, looked up thoughtfully. “Will there be lots of windows?” Something about the way he asked that made my

The sound of the crowd faded as Leo and I walked past the sea of reporters, their questions now drowned out by the buzzing of my thoughts. The stares, the flashes, they all felt like they were happening to someone else. I was numb, my pulse steady despite the tension that still clung to the air.“You’re alright?” Leo asked, his voice low but full of concern.I didn’t look at him. I kept my gaze forward, focusing on the grand theater doors ahead. “I’m fine.”He didn’t press me further, but I could feel his eyes on me, sensing the storm still brewing beneath my calm exterior.We stepped into the theater, and the noise from the press outside was replaced by the low hum of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses. The velvet-lined interior of the Valmont Grand Theater shimmered under the golden lights, its opulence reminding me of everything that had changed in my life. I didn’t belong in the shadows anymore. I was part of this world, the world that once felt foreign to me—the world I

The morning sunlight poured in through the sheer curtains, painting my room in soft hues of gold and cream. I blinked slowly, stretching beneath my silk sheets as the quiet hum of the city stirred outside. It was almost too peaceful—unnervingly so. For a moment, I just lay there, listening to the quiet, grounding myself.By 9:45 a.m., I was seated at my desk, fresh-faced with my hair pulled into a low chignon, the kind that said put-together even if I hadn't slept well. I adjusted the angle of my webcam and clicked into the Zoom call right as the clock struck ten."Good morning, Sienna," Cara, my manager, greeted with her usual brisk tone. Her square-rimmed glasses sat low on her nose as she glanced between files on her desk."Morning, everyone," I replied smoothly, sipping from a steaming mug of Ethiopian roast."We'll get straight to it," she said. "The press tour kicks off next week. Tuesday morning show, red carpet Wednesday night, followed by the Harper's shoot Thursday, and the

Leo's POV The moment Sienna's words drifted into the heavy hush between us — "I can't" — something in my chest twisted. Not with anger. Not with heartbreak. But with the familiar, suffocating weight of inevitability. Because I knew she wasn't rejecting me. Not truly. No, this was armor. A wall she'd learned to build after years of betrayal, loss, and misplaced loyalty. She thought it would protect her, thought it could keep me out. But she was wrong. And one day — soon — she'd cave. Because love like this didn't die. It rotted. It festered. And eventually, it consumed. I let a small, crooked smile tug at my lips as she stared ahead, the credits still bleeding white against the dark screen. "Had to try," I'd said. And I meant it. The lights lifted in the theater, spilling that honeyed glow across her skin, and God, she was art. The kind of art no one deserved to touch. And yet he had. Adrian. A muscle ticked in my jaw. That bastard had crawled his way

Sienna’s POVThe house was too quiet when I walked in.Not the soft, comforting kind of quiet you’d welcome after a long evening — but a brittle, unnatural stillness. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something to crack. My heart was thudding so hard in my chest I was sure it echoed in the hallway.I shut the door behind me with a gentle click, leaning against it for a moment, eyes fluttering shut as I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The scent of roses from the vase by the console mixed with the faint trace of Leo’s cologne still clinging to my skin. It was too much. Too soon. Too heavy.My heels made soft clicks against the hardwood as I hurried upstairs, bypassing the dimly lit hallway and the framed photographs that lined the walls. My sanctuary, my prison — both at once.I eased open the door to the kids’ room, careful not to make a sound.The warm glow of their nightlight painted the walls in muted amber. There they were — my l