บททั้งหมดของ Signed Sealed and Divorced. The CEO’s biggest regret: บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

The boardroom reeked of impatience.Not the quiet, professional kind, but the restless kind that built like a storm beneath polished suits and practiced voices.Adrian sat at the head of the mahogany table, immovable, his watch catching the light with every subtle tilt of his wrist. Time ticked forward in steady beats. For everyone else in the room, it was business. For him, it was an obstacle — an irritating delay keeping him from where he truly wanted to be.Across from him, board members shifted in their seats. Phones buzzed discreetly under the table. An anxious cough broke the air. Someone finally cleared their throat.“Mr. Hawthorne,” an older director mr Jacob began carefully, “we’ve received… troubling inquiries from our stakeholders this morning. The media is running with a story — videos, photographs. They’re claiming you’re… dead.”Adrian didn’t blink. He only flicked his gaze down to his watch again, ignoring the ripple of discomfort his silence caused.“Sir,” another pre

The screen froze in static, the last echoes of Leo’s voice still vibrating in the cavernous hall.“She’ll see. Once Adrian is gone, she’ll see I’m the only one who can love her right.”Silence dropped like a blade.Sienna’s heart hammered in her chest, her throat dry, her nails biting crescents into her palms. She could hear her own breath echoing against the emptiness of the room.She had always known that Leo had a thing for her and didn’t like Adrian because of it. But never in her wildest dreams would she think he was capable of all these. This was just too hard to believe and perhaps if she were told and not shown directly she would think it just could not be true. Leo stumbled to his feet. His face was pale, sweat dampening his temples, but his eyes—those wild, fever-bright eyes—blazed with a manic sheen.“This—this is a lie!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “It’s all fabricated! Adrian’s behind this! He’s twisting everything—”His voice shook, but the denial rang hollow, even

The road stretched ahead of Adrian like a black ribbon, unbroken and endless. He kept his hands locked on the wheel, knuckles pale, the headlights cutting through the night in sharp beams. The city had long given way to silence; skyscrapers blurred in the rearview mirror until only empty highways remained. The engine’s low hum was the only sound, and even that grated on him, like a taunt. He couldn’t breathe past the weight pressing on his chest. His daughter’s face kept flashing in his mind—Alina laughing as she smeared chocolate on her lips, tugging at his sleeve to show him her latest crooked crayon drawing. The way she whispered “Daddy” when thunder scared her. Now that same voice might be crying somewhere in the dark, terrified and alone. He blinked hard, but a tear still escaped, trailing down his cheek. The first in decades. He swiped it away angrily, jaw clenching. He had no room for weakness now. “Hold on, baby,” he whispered under his breath. “I’m coming.” Miles away,

The hairpin burned in Adrian’s palm. Not literally, but close enough. Its weight was insignificant, yet it anchored him, steadied him against the madness threatening to eat away at the edges of his mind. His daughter had been here. She had left this behind. He tightened his grip and pressed deeper into the tunnels. The walls narrowed as he went, slick concrete pressing close, so tight his shoulders brushed both sides. The air grew wetter, heavier, until it clung to his skin like a shroud. Humidity mixed with the smell of rust and something darker — old blood soaked into stone, sharp and metallic. A rat skittered ahead, claws scratching against the damp floor, before vanishing into a crack. Adrian ignored it. His focus was forward. Always forward. The tunnel sloped downward, water pooling ankle-deep. His boots splashed softly, each step swallowed by the suffocating silence. Until— The speakers crackled alive again. “Adrian…” Leo’s voice bled through, stretched and distorted unti

The air in the tunnels was heavy, wet with mildew, clinging to Voss’s skin like a second layer. He crouched low, every joint screaming as he shifted another inch forward, his shoulders brushing the cracked rubber stacked high. The tires shielded him from sight, but the cover felt paper thin against the weight of two rifles in the room.Alina sat just beyond, knees hugged tight to her chest, trembling but quiet. A child forced into silence. Voss’s heart clenched at the sight, but his mind was steel. He had to be precise — no mistakes.As his calloused fingers tightened on the toy phone, a thought struck him — Layla’s words, a week ago, on some quiet evening when the world wasn’t tearing itself apart.“They’re cleverer than you think, those kids,” she had laughed, sitting at the kitchen table. “Tried teaching me some of that sign language they’ve been learning on YouTube . God help me, I couldn’t pick it up — my fingers felt like sausages. But Alina? She was quick. Too quick. She rememb