Lahat ng Kabanata ng Signed Sealed and Divorced. The CEO’s biggest regret: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

The alarm shrilled at 5:30 AM. I woke with a start, the room still wrapped in a faint lavender haze from the night before. The sharp hum of anxiety slid under my skin as I rolled out of bed. The weight of the previous night still hanging heavily on my chest. I wondered who that might have been and what their reasons were for what they said. It was all so bleak. I thought of trying to call again to get some clarity but quickly brushed off the thought when I remembered I had Vogue editorial meeting at eight. The biggest opportunity in months — and my heart already felt like it was two steps behind. I showered quickly, steam curling around me like a restless ghost. The sharp scent of citrus and white musk filled the air as I slicked on my favorite body oil. I chose a deep emerald silk blouse, its fabric liquid against my skin, paired with tailored black slacks and stiletto heels sharp enough to gut a man’s pride. A swipe of ruby lipstick, gold hoop earrings, and a spritz of my s

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting elongated shadows across the room. I sat on the edge of my bed, the weight of Layla’s words pressing down on me like a leaden blanket. The opulence of my surroundings felt hollow, every ornate detail mocking my ignorance. I reached for my phone, scrolling through old messages from Leo. Each word, once endearing, now seemed laced with hidden meanings. Had I been blind to the signs? Or had I chosen to ignore them, ensnared by his charm? Determined to uncover the truth, I delved into the depths of the internet. Articles, interviews, and gossip columns painted a picture of Anntoria Voss as a formidable figure in the entertainment industry. But it was a buried forum post that caught my attention—a thread discussing rumors of Anntoria’s unconventional relationship with her adopted son, Leo. The details were murky, but the implications were chilling. My heart pounded as I sifted through the information, each revelation tightening the

Sienna The sun was barely a smear of pale light against my curtains when I woke. For a moment, I stayed still — listening. The silence of the house pressed against my chest like a second heartbeat. I slipped out of bed and padded barefoot down the hall. The twins’ door was ajar. I pushed it open and found them tangled together beneath a nest of blankets — tiny fists curled, breaths soft and even. Two little worlds I’d kill and burn for. I brushed a strand of hair from Lily’s forehead. She stirred but didn’t wake. Good. I shut the door behind me and moved to the living room. Leo was there—sprawled on the couch, half draped in a throw blanket he probably hadn’t even bothered to use. He looked different in sleep. Younger, almost innocent, but that was a lie my mind kept trying to sell me. I stood there for a long while, watching him. Studying every line of his face in the half-light. In his sleep, his hand twitched — a small shiver rippled through his shoulders. A nightmare, maybe.

I step back into the glass conference room like I never left — like my knees didn’t almost buckle in the hallway, like my heart isn’t still banging on the inside of my ribs, begging for something I’m too proud to name. Cara’s at the head of the table, sleek and severe, her phone face-down beside her like a threat she can pick up at any second. Layla stands by the floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed, eyes too soft for this world. She watches me like she’s trying to see if I’m still breathing under all this armor. “Sit,” Cara snaps, like I work for her instead of the other way around. I do as I’m told. It’s easier that way — to obey before I remember I don’t have to. “Dates are locked. First table read Monday in LA. You fly out Sunday, wardrobe tests Tuesday. We’ll spin a custody narrative for the press if it leaks — single mother hero, kids staying back for stability, you commuting every three weeks if you must.” She rattles it off like a grocery list. Layla tries to speak. “What

I don’t remember closing my eyes.Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I just sat here all night, suit still on, tie crumpled on the marble floor. The city below my penthouse glitters like it’s mocking me — every blinking light a reminder that the world keeps moving whether I live or die.The voicemail I sent Sienna replays in my head on an endless loop. My words. Her silence. I would rather she scream at me, curse my name, threaten to ruin me — anything but this cold void.I drag a hand over my face and stand by the window, forehead pressed to the glass. I see Alina’s tiny face in the reflections. I did not get to see Leo They’re growing up without me. That’s my legacy too — not the skyscrapers, the offshore accounts, the headlines. Just two little souls who don’t know the man who gave them half their DNA.I force myself to shower when the sun stains the skyline in bruised pink. I tie my cufflinks with shaking hands. There’s a boardroom waiting for me. Shareholders who would gut me alive if they kn