After His Mistress Ruined My Hands, I Walked Out

Chapter 1

The scent of browned butter and toasted sage filled the penthouse kitchen, a warm, golden aroma that usually brought Sienna Rossi a sense of profound peace. Tonight, however, her stomach was tied in tight, anxious knots.

She stood before the professional-grade Viking range, her slender fingers deftly flipping a pair of perfectly seared scallops. They sizzled against the cast-iron pan, achieving that elusive, caramelized crust that only a true master could coax from seafood. Beside the stove sat a bottle of vintage Barolo, already breathing, and two crystal glasses.

It was their third anniversary. Three years since she had married Declan Vance, the ambitious, silver-tongued man who had promised her the world. Three years of staying in the shadows, crafting the exquisite, Michelin-caliber menus that had transformed his fledgling hospitality group into a billion-dollar empire.

*He’ll be home soon,* Sienna told herself, wiping her hands on her apron. *He promised he’d be home by eight.*

The digital clock on the microwave glared back at her: *9:45 PM.*

"Just a little longer," she whispered to the empty, cavernous room. She adjusted the heat under the truffle risotto, a recipe passed down from her grandmother. The earthy, intoxicating scent of the rare white truffles she had shaved into the arborio rice was a testament to her devotion. She didn't just cook for Declan; she poured her soul onto the plate, hoping that each perfect bite would remind him of her worth.

The heavy oak front door clicked open.

Sienna’s heart leaped. She quickly smoothed her hair, plastered on a bright smile, and stepped out from behind the marble island. "Declan, I was beginning to think you got caught in—"

The words died in her throat.

Declan Vance stepped into the foyer. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and commanding presence. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes sweeping over the romantic candlelit setup with an expression of mild irritation rather than guilt.

And he wasn't alone.

Clinging to his arm, teetering on a pair of red-soled stilettos, was Chloe Sterling.

Sienna felt the floor tilt beneath her feet. Chloe was the newly crowned "face" of the Vance Hospitality Group—a vibrant, blonde twenty-five-year-old with a massive social media following, a dazzling smile, and absolutely zero culinary talent.

"Declan?" Sienna managed to say, her voice trembling slightly. "What is… what is she doing here?"

Declan shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly over a velvet armchair. "Don't start, Sienna. It’s been a brutal day at the board meeting."

"It's our anniversary," Sienna said, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She gestured to the dining table, set with their finest china. "I made the scallops. And the truffle risotto. I thought we were celebrating."

Chloe let out a soft, breathy laugh. She stepped further into the room, her eyes darting over the meticulously prepared meal with undisguised amusement. "Oh, Declan, you didn't tell me your wife was playing playing house tonight. How