All Chapters of Signed Sealed and Divorced. The CEO’s biggest regret: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The study was silent except for the faint scratch of pen on paper. Sienna sat with her notes spread across the desk, diagrams of sauces and balance charts sketched with the same care others might give to diary entries. Her focus was sharp, but after an hour of copying, her eyes blurred. She capped her pen and leaned back. The house was hushed; the kind of silence that came only late at night when children had long surrendered to dreams and the world beyond the walls no longer pressed in. Gathering her papers into a neat stack, she rose and padded softly to the bedroom. Adrian was already asleep. The curtains shifted gently from a draft, casting shadows that stretched across the bed. He lay on his side, breathing steady, hair mussed in a way that made him look almost boyish. For a moment she simply stood there, watching. It wasn’t something she allowed herself often—the luxury of stillness where she could admire him without fear of being caught. She slipped under the covers as caref

The room had stilled into that sharp quiet before a storm, the kind of silence that made every sound—every shuffle, every scratch of pen on paper—feel amplified.Sienna leaned against her workstation, a small square of paper balanced on the counter. She had already jotted down her list in tidy, deliberate handwriting:Salmon fillet. Puff pastry. Spinach. Mushrooms. Butter. Cream. Dill. Egg. Lemon. Garlic. Shallots. Salt. Pepper.The essentials for Salmon en Croûte, nothing more. She had always believed that preparation was half the battle. Around her, students tapped knives against boards, muttered recipe steps under their breath, some staring into space as though replaying tutorials in their heads.In front of her station, Marco spun a knife lazily between his fingers, grinning at nothing in particular. Showboating already. Omar, beside Sienna, wrung her hands and whispered, “I feel sick. Actually sick. What if I forget the pastry? Or the salmon? Or—”“You won’t,” Sienna said, foldin

The morning air carried the crisp bite of autumn when Sienna stepped outside. Dew still clung to the hedges lining the academy courtyard, and the stone path glittered faintly under the rising sun. She tugged her cardigan closer around her shoulders, savoring the silence. Few students were awake at this hour; most of them were still tangled in their bedsheets, the halls quiet except for the faint hum of the cleaning staff at work.Her shoes tapped softly against the stones as she walked a slow circuit of the grounds. These walks had become a habit for her, a way to settle her thoughts before the day truly began. She let her eyes trace the line of the old fountain in the center, water spilling over its moss-darkened rim, and thought back to the competition.The applause, the deductions, Marco’s stare.She should have felt robbed. One mark had changed everything. And yet, a calm certainty had settled over her. Winning hadn’t mattered as much as doing the right thing. Helping Omar had fel

The dorm was hushed, heavy with the kind of silence that only deep evening carried. Sienna sat at her desk, her pen scratching faintly across the page of her journal. A half-finished list of flavor pairings stared back at her—ginger with blood orange, lavender against dark chocolate, thyme folded into honey glaze—but her hand had slowed, thoughts wandering elsewhere. Sienna sat at her desk, the lamp casting a soft pool of light over her journal. Her pen hovered above the page, but her thoughts drifted—not to recipes, but to the day she’d spent in town with Omar. The laughter between racks of dresses, the way Omar’s eyes had widened when Sienna insisted she choose something for herself, the stunned silence at the black platinum card—all of it lingered like a warmth in her chest. She hadn’t expected it to feel so… grounding. Normal. It had reminded her of what she’d missed, simple companionship, the kind that asked for nothing more than presence. The memory was soft, but it clung to

Adrian’s tie hung loose against his chest as he stepped into the quiet house, the muted click of the front door echoing too loudly in the silence. It was late evening, though the children were still napping, their routine bent out of shape without Sienna’s steady hand to guide it. He paused in the entryway, his gaze lingering on the mug sitting on the counter — the one Sienna always used for her morning tea.The absence of her presence pressed down on him, heavier than the day’s work. Adrian tugged his tie free and set his briefcase down, loosening his shoulders with a long exhale before moving toward the garden doors.Outside, twilight draped the sky in a wash of indigo and fading gold. The garden Sienna loved so much stretched before him, her roses trembling in the evening breeze, herbs lined neatly in their beds, basil and rosemary filling the air with a sharp, clean scent. He picked up the watering can and moved carefully among them, the way she did, pouring water as though the pl