The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 274

Chapter 274

Gemma’s POV

The car smells of dust, but we have to manage anyhow until we reach the city.

The jagged urban skyline rises to greet us after the long, silent drive back from Hilsurrey. My body aches for a hot shower and some peaceful moments, but as soon as we hit downtown, my phone starts to blare.

It’s not a ring, but klaxon–like alarm I reserved for one specific, infuriating person.

Zina jumps next to me, clutching her chest. “Geez, your ringtone scared the hell out of me!”

I don’t answer. My eyes are glued to the screen, to the blinking red dot that represents Mikhail.

The dot is stationary, its location lagged: Blackwell Airlines International Terminal.

I frown, analyzing the timing with a cold, sharp clarity. If I hadn’t been returning from Hilsurrey right now and my route home didn’t happen to pass by the airport, he would have slipped away completely.

He thought I’d given up! Huh!

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“You guys go ahead. I need to take care of something…”

I don’t wait for Zina’s questions before shoving the car door open, already striding towards the terminal.

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My trench coat is whipping around my calves, the grime of the disaster zone still on my shoes.

I find him in the check–in hall, looking annoyingly casual. Sunglasses, a light brown duckbill cap pulled low, a sleek bomber jacket, and jeans.

He looks like a model off–duty, not a man about to flee his responsibilities!

He’s just lining up with single duffel bag at his feet, ready to check it for the next flight to Nassau Islands.

I don’t say a word, choosing to walk straight up, grab the handle of his luggage, and start dragging it back towards the exit.

“Gemma, let go!”

He exclaims, surprise and annoyance jumping in his voice. I ignore him, but he catches up in two long strides.

His hand closes over the handle, stopping me.

“Let. Go!” I say, turning to face him.

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“You let go!”

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I raise my phone. “If you don’t let go, I’ll call Mr. Smith.”

He just shrugs, a nonchalant gesture. “Call him then. He’s in Nassau. At most, he can try to stop me at the airport over there, but you can’t stop me from boarding.”

The sheer arrogance of it makes my blood boil. But he’s right, he is stronger than me. He could wrench this bag from my hands without breaking a sweat.

But I’m not going to try to win a physical fight… I’m going to win a different way.

A slow smile touches my lips. I let go of the luggage handle with one hand and pull my oversized sunglasses from my pocket, sliding them on.

Mikhail just stares, completely puzzled while I tug my surgical mask up over my nose and mouth.

Then, I take a deep breath, and I unleash hell.

“You sumbag!” I shriek, my voice echoing through the large hall.

I put every ounce of betrayed–wife energy I’ve ever seen in a bad soap opera into it. “You think you can cheat on me, fall for

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another woman, and take all the hard–earned money I made to elope abroad? You think I’ll just let you go?”

Mikhail stands there, dumbfounded, as a hundred heads swivel in our direction.

I press a hand to my heart, my voice trembling with sobs. “I work ten jobs a day! From selling bread in the morning and delivering pizza till late at night! And you still sold my electric bike behind my back to buy a ring for your lover! This is so damn unfair!”

I see the crowd leaning in, their eyes wide.

“We were about to get married, and I’m even carrying your child! You heartless man!”

I start hitting his chest with my fists, not hard enough to hurt, but with enough frantic energy to sell the performance. “My life is so miserable! When you had no money for food, it was me working every day to buy food for you. I couldn’t even afford a plate of spaghetti for myself in a day!”

I fake a coughing fit, doubling over as if my health is failing from the stress and malnutrition.

The crowd is eating it up.

“Man, this guy’s a real piece of work. His girlfriend’s bending over backwards for him, and he’s still cheating?”

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“Looks can be deceiving. Who knew a capable young man could be just a freeloader?”

“That girl seems genuinely nice! low could he have the nerve to betray her like that?”

The chorus of disapproval swells around us.

“Gemma, enough!” Mikhail hisses, his face turning red under

his tan.

He coughs awkwardly, turning his head away from the staring crowd.

“Enough? I’ll never stop! You betrayed me first!”

I cry, hitting his arm again for good measure. A strange, giddy thrill runs through me. I finally understand why actors love their jobs.

“Gemma, cut it out already!”

He reaches for me, probably to clamp a hand over my mouth, but the crowd immediately intervenes.

“Hey young man, don’t get out of line! This is your girlfriend. As a grown man, you can’t lay a hand on her!”

A burly man steps forward, blocking his path. Mikhail is

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trapped.

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“She’s not my girlfriend at all!” he tries to explain, which only makes him look guiltier.

“See? He won’t even admit it!” I sob, hiding my face. “He’s abandoning me and our baby!”

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