The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 273

Chapter 273

Reyna’s POV

Rhett’s apartment is a dump.

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It’s saturated with cheap air freshener and still reeks of desperation. I’ve been stuck here for days, ever since Cassian… well, ever since that little misunderstanding.

I took the guest room, of course.

The only mildly entertaining part of this whole pathetic situation is watching Rhett squirm to please me, like a little puppy desperate to show his tricks.

We’re sitting on his lumpy couch watching some vintage movie, and he shifts, his hand drifting toward my shoulder like a clumsy, sweaty spider.

I flinch away immediately, the movement sharp.

“Rhett…” I say, letting my voice go all soft and wounded. “It’s… my first relationship and I… like to take things slow. You’ll respect that, right?”

The fool actually blushes. I can see the gears turning in his

empty head, assuming me to be a pure angel and seeing himself as a horny beast in comparison.

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Idiot. If he were Cassian, I’d have been in his bed the first night. But Cassian isn’t here, is he? So Rhett gets the pure, untouched version… the one that’s worth waiting for.

“Reyna, I’m sorry, I was too eager,” he stammers, his face practically scarlet. “I promise, without your consent, I won’t touch you again!”

1 reward him with a sweet, forgiving smile. “Thank you, Rheft, you’re so kind!” The words taste like ash, but he swallows them down like honey.

I clap my hands excitedly, “Oh, I ordered a cake today, I’ll go pick it up later, you wait at home for me!”

He looks puzzled, like a cow presented with a calculus problem. “Why did you order a cake? It’s not your birthday today.”

I let out a light, tinkling laugh. “Because today marks one week since we became official, I want to make it a bit special! Do you think I’m overreacting?”

I let him see the vulnerable girl seeking his approval. As expected, the poor sap is practically vibrating with happiness. “I’ll go get it. Where’s the bakery?”

I shake my head, “No, no, I want it to be a surprise! I’ll be quick.”

I change my shoes and promise I’ll be back in half an hour. The

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moment I’m out the door, I hail a cab and give my mother’s address.

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The sweet smile evaporates from my face, I need to deal with the dragon.

I push the door open and there she is, Angela, my dear mother. “Where have you been these past few days?” 1

I press my lips together, the irritation buzzing. “Does it really matter where I’ve been?”

“Okay! Then when were you planning to tell me that Cassian kicked you out?”

The words fall like a slap. “You investigated me?”

“I investigated you?” she scoffs. “Reyna, didn’t you promise me that when you returned to the country that you’ll marry into the Blackwell family? How long will things go on like this?”

Marry into the Blackwell family! That’s all she ever sees me as, her personal ATM. If it weren’t for her bottomless pit of a gambling addiction, would I be groveling to a simp like Rhett right now?

Would I be in this mess?

“If you really wanted me to marry into the Blackwell family, you shouldn’t have gone to Gemma in the first place, let alone

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gamble!”

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She’s instantly infuriated. “What do you mean? Are you looking down on me now? If you hadn’t been struggling to get Cassian’s attention for so long, I wouldn’t have to worry about you now. Reyna, do you really want to be overshadowed by that Gemma? Show some ambition!”

I don’t want to hear another word. This is a waste of my time. I hold out my hand. “What about the card I gave you earlier?”

She hesitates, her eyes darting away. “Wh… what card?”

My blood runs cold. Oh, no. No, no, no. “Have you used that card for gambling again?”

She has the audacity to look impatient. “What do you mean? Gambling again? Is that even considered gambling? I just went to blow off some steam!”

Steam? Who goes to blow off steam by losing millions in a single go? Even the Blackwell family’s fortune can’t withstand her standards of luxury!

“I don’t care, just give me the card back!”

My voice is rising, panic clawing at my throat. I got the alert on my phone earlier today, that Cassian is checking the records.

He knows… he has to know. That stupid card he gave me to

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solve a “little problem” abroad a year ago, the one I conveniently forgot to return.

I’ve been funneling money from it to her to keep her quiet, but how was I to know this would escalate so much?

“It’s just a card, and now you want it back from your mother? Do you have no conscience, are you even my daughter?”

She shrieks, and I shout back, “How much have you used from

that card?”

There were tens of millions on that card!

“How much could I have used?” she mutters reluctantly, rolling her eyes and pulling the card from a drawer.

She slaps it into my hand.

“I’m busy right now, I’ll come see you in a few days.”

I don’t look back. I run out and head straight to the nearest bank, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The teller gives me the balance: three million and a few thousand dollars left.

More than half is gone, reduced to a paltry few million. I feel dizzy. What do I do? What do I say if Cassian demands it back?

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I stumble out of the bank, my mind racing. I need a story.

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I see a trash can and, in a moment of inspiration, I slam the perfect, pristine cake into the side of it. The frosting smears everywhere. I tear my stockings and scrape my knee against the rough concrete.

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