Lahat ng Kabanata ng Signed Sealed and Divorced. The CEO’s biggest regret: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Adrian’s POV He slammed the door behind him—not with anger, but exhaustion. Sienna’s scent still lingered on his clothes, subtle and intoxicating, even though she’d pushed him away like he was a sickness. Maybe he was. Maybe he’d become one long before he knew what it meant to lose everything. Adrian rested his back against the cold surface of the presidential suite door, eyes sweeping across the sprawling luxury of the room. Cream-colored walls, a chandelier that whispered opulence, windows draped in golden sheers that framed the city skyline like a painting. He hadn’t been staying here before—his original hotel was within town. This was not a five star hotel but it was closer to the crew and cast. So he had Voss change it. He needed proximity. He needed control. He needed Sienna. He walked into the suite like a ghost in his own life, each step echoing the hollowness inside him. The pristine perfection of the space mocked his chaos. He poured himself a glass of scotch but did

Third Person POVThe black Escalade pulled up just past the crew’s holding trailers, its polished surface catching the late afternoon sun like a blade. The door flung open before the driver could reach it.Annatoria stepped out in six-inch red stilettos and a custom Chanel jumpsuit, white silk clinging to her surgically perfect curves like it had been hand-stitched onto her in hell. Her platinum hair was pinned up with cruel elegance, and her diamond earrings caught the light with every breath she took.She let out an exaggerated groan as her feet hit the pavement. “I swear, if I ever have to take another bumpy flight with that many civilians, I’m going to burn down an airport.”Her assistant, Cassara, stepped out behind her—dressed more conservatively, trailing her like a shadow with soft brown curls and a clipboard tucked under one arm.Annatoria fanned her face, eyes scanning the lot. “Ugh. Where’s my iced water? Did nobody hear me say cold? This heat is going to ruin my hair.”Cas

Sienna’s POVTwo days.That’s all it’s been.Two damn days since Adrian set foot on set, and somehow, I already feel like the air has thinned. Like I’m breathing through gauze, performing under a microscope with heat lamps pointed at all my worst angles. Not physically—no, I can still hit my marks, say my lines. But emotionally? I’m unraveling thread by thread, and no one seems to notice except Layla.And him.Of course, him.Adrian Hawthorne. A man who was supposed to stay behind the curtain, in the shadows, controlling everything from the comfort of some glass tower. Not here. Not pacing quietly behind the monitors with arms crossed. Not leaning against the lighting rigs, half-cast in shadow, watching me.Watching me fail.Because that’s what I’ve been doing. Failing.Scene after scene, I’m missing beats, fumbling lines I’ve known for weeks. The director hasn’t said much—just polite nods and soft sighs—but I know what he’s thinking. I know because I see him exchange glances with Adr

The reinforced doors shut behind us with a thud that rattles through my ribs. The sound isn’t just loud—it’s final, sealing us in like a vault. The safe house is nothing like I imagined. I’d pictured some cramped basement with flickering bulbs and stale air, but this… this is a whole other creature. The ceiling is higher than I expected, the space stretching wide and deep, divided into sections by thick, soundproof panels. Each segment is large enough to hold forty, maybe fifty people, with steel-framed benches along the walls and rows of folding chairs in the center. The air is cool but faintly metallic, laced with the sterile tang of filtered ventilation. We’re herded inside by hotel staff in black jackets, their movements efficient but not unkind. The place hums with a low undercurrent of voices—murmurs, questions, the occasional nervous laugh—layered over the deep, steady purr of the ventilation system. Above us, fluorescent panels cast a flat, shadowless light that makes every

The alarms split the air like a blade.A jagged, mechanical wail that ricochets off the steel walls, so loud it vibrates in my teeth. My stomach knots before my brain can catch up.It’s not the kind of sound you ignore.Doors slam shut in quick, thunderous clanks, the hydraulic locks sliding into place with finality. I watch one at the far end of the room seal like a closing jaw, swallowing the possibility of escape.The chatter dies instantly, the air folding into a heavy, uneasy silence.Adrian doesn’t hesitate. He’s already moving, his voice low but cutting through the space like a scalpel. “Seal the North corridor. Two on each entrance. No one moves without clearance.”A guard peels off in precise, purposeful strides. His tone isn’t loud, but there’s a weight in it that makes even the restless guests shrink into their seats. He’s done this before—I can feel it.Chase moves in the opposite direction, toward a cluster of people whispering in sharp, frantic bursts. He’s all calm hand