The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 265

Liam’s POV

I whip my head in his direction.

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“Wait. What? What do you mean get out? I didn’t do anything, why are you kicking me out!?”

He shoots me a side glance, edged with irritation sharp enough to behead me.

“I’m going to find Gemma. Do you want to tag along and be the third wheel?”

It finally clicks. Oh! Oh…

I lean back, shaking my head. “So that’s what this is. You’ve held out this long without running to her, huh! Quite the patient one,

Cassian.”

His face doesn’t change, but I can see the tension in his grip on the wheel. He means business.

I throw up my hands, conceding. Alright, alright, I get it! You have to tell me twice. Heaven forbid I interrupt husband–and–wife bonding time.”

I unbuckle, pushing the door open.

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“Some friend you are, by the way Years of brotherhood, and you ditch me halfway like yesterday’s trash. Got yourself a wife, but…‘

I slam the door shut, crouching teglare at him through the window. “After all these years of friendship, I’ve clearly…”

The roar of the engine drowns me out as he takes off. Exhaust fumes sting my nose, choking my last words.

“…been mistaken.”

I finish lamely, coughing, staring at his taillights disappearing around the corner.

“Unbelievable!”

I growl, raising a fist at the empty street. I must look ridiculous, standing there fuming like an abandoned puppy. I lower my hand quickly, hoping no one noticed.

That’s when a sleek black Maybach glides to a stop right in front of me, smooth as a shark circling its prey.

The tinted window rolls down, and Mikhail is peering at me like he has been waiting for this exact moment.

Cassian’s POV

I pull the car to a screeching halt, heart pounding hard against

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my ribs.

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Adam’s tracker doesn’t lie, Gemma’s car is right here. My hands tighten on the steering wheel before I shove the door open and step out, jaw set so tight it hurts.

The restaurant looms in front of me, golden lights glowing warmly, couples laughing inside.

It’s a place I’ve never stepped fool in before, not because of anything specific, but it’s just too romantic, too sophisticated, too far from anything Gemma and I have ever done together.

And now she’s here, with him. What does she see in that Jace?

I grit my teeth, anger flooding through me. Of all the places, she had to choose this one? To sit across from Jace, pretending like they belong in this world together?

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A waiter at the entrance bows slightly, plastering on a professional smile. “Good evening, sir. Table for two?”

I stare at him, fighting the urge to bark out a laugh. Table for two? With who, exactly?

“My foot,” I mutter under my breath, shoving past him without answering.

I’m not here for dinner. I’m here to drag my wife out of this charade, no matter who’s sitting across from her.

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Gemma’s POV

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I step into the restaurant with Jace, Zina, and Molly, and at the entrance, a giant display of fresh red roses catches us off guard, elegant and almost too romantic.

Zina wrinkles her nose, muttering under her breath.

“This is quite cheesy…”

She says sarcastically, then shoots Molly a look. “Honestly, if it weren’t for you insisting, I wouldn’t be here. Dining here costs nearly ten thousand bucks!”

Molly sticks out her tongue, smiling sheepishly. “I saw it online, Zina. Don’t be mad. I’ll bring you a small gift next time, as a compensation!”

So the bickering has already begun?!

I roll my eyes but say nothing as we’re led inside. The restaurant’s ambiance is cozy, and the staff moves like clockwork, graceful in every detail.

We order the set meal, and for a while, it feels normal. I’m halfway through cutting my steak when a waiter approaches.

I glance up casually, until I notice what he’s carrying… bouquets. Not just one, but several, carefully arranged to spell

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something out.

My knife pauses mid–slice. The flowers are placed in front of our table, forming the words: ‘Honey come home to me!‘

For a second, I stare blankly at the ridiculous message. Then I nudge Zina lightly. “Who’s trying to catch someone cheating? Quite considerate, really, saving the other person from embarrassment.”

But the waiter steps closer, bowing slightly. “Excuse me, Ms. Gemma Blackwell? Your husband sent these flowers over. He insisted we deliver them directly to your table. Please, enjoy your meal.”

My cheeks burn hot. Around us, people are turning their heads to gawk. I want nothing more than to crawl under the table and disappear.

Damn it, Cassian!!

Zina, of course, is delighted in my misery. She whips out her phone, snapping away gleefully. “I must say, the flower selection skills of that Demon Incarnate are pretty good. These roses look high–quality!”

I glare at her, “If you’ve got nothing nice to say, shut up.”

Molly leans toward Jace, whispering something, her eyes darting everywhere. At this table, I know Jace is the only one

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who understands how humiliating this feels.

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He pushes his chair back. “I’ll go ask the waiter to take them away,” he offers.

Panic flashes in me, and my hand shoots up. “No–forget it!”

I lower my voice, “We’re already the center of attention. If you start negotiating with the staff, someone might take a picture. It’ll end up online. Just… just let it be. It’s only flowers. No big deal.”

But I’m wrong. Completely wrong.

Every three minutes, as if on schedule, another waiter arrives. Each time with a fresh, massive bouquet. They pile them at my feet, around the chairs, stacking until our table looks like a florist’s shop.

Patrons glance over, whispering, snapping photos. Some even approach to pose nearby, thinking it’s some staged attraction.

I press one hand to my forehead, the other covering half my face. “This is unbearable…”

I whisper, voice muffled.

“Apologies, Miss.” one waiter explains with a rehearsed smile. “But these flowers are from the restaurant’s new owner. We can’t refuse.”

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My fork clatters on the plate. New owner?

Zina’s eyes widen, Molly gasps, and Jace turns into a statue.

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“The new boss?” Zina echoes. “Don’t tell me… did Cassian buy the entire restaurant? Is he out of his mind?”

I want to laugh, but no sound comes out. Just a heavy realization that he really would go this far just to corner me.

I mutter tightly, “Eat fast, let’s get out of here.”

The others obey without a word. We wolf down the rest, ignoring the flowers around us. When we finally step outside, relief washes through me, until a giant puppy mascot skips toward me, arms outstretched, holding yet another bouquet.

The absurdity is too much. I take the flowers silently, then walk to the nearest trash can and drop them in without a second thought.

My patience is gone. I pull out my phone, stabbing Cassian’s number with trembling fingers.

The second he answers, I don’t let him speak. “How long are you going to play these silly games?”

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