The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 281

Chapter 281-2

Cassian’s POV

The city blurs past my car window, but I can’t escape it.

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Her face is everywhere! On the massive digital billboard overlooking the financial district, on the screen outside the luxury mall, Gemma’s face, luminous and confident, stares back

at me.

That commercial she shot with Mikhail. I saw it an hour ago,

and the image is burned onto my retinas.

But my own reaction is what catches me off guard. My first thought wasn’t anger, or jealousy over the project.

It was a simple, startling observation that rang through my mind with extreme clarity: she is pretty!

She has a very photogenic face. It was like seeing a stranger, or rather, seeing the woman I married for the first time.

Then, the secondary, more familiar emotion hit: Mikhail is too close to her. He’s standing right beside her in the ad, his arm brushing hers, a smug tilt to his head.

He did this on purpose, didn’t he? He’s baiting me.

And through it all, the most shocking part? Unlike my old self,

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who would have jumped to conclusions, I didn’t think for a second that Gemma was at fault. 11

The realization sits strangely within me. Since when do I automatically assume her innocence?

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Now, standing in the elevator after pulling Mikhail off of her, I get to hear that he wants her to work permanently in the entertainment division.

“The entertainment industry is not as innocent as you think, I would advise you to stay out of it.

I’ve seen enough of that world through business associates… the greed, the exploitation, the constant, grinding pressure, and Gemma knows what I mean.

The Blackwell family doesn’t touch it for a reason. She doesn’t need that, she doesn’t belong in that world.

“It’s my own business!”

She fires back defiantly.

I look at her, this woman with a newly discovered sharp tongue, and a thought, unbidden, rises in my mind: Why did she obey me for the previous three years and never show her sharp claws? For three years, she was quiet, accommodating, a gentle presence in the background. Now it seems every other word from her is a challenge or a refusal.

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We step out into the lobby, and she makes it clear she’s not getting in my car.

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“If you give Reyna my mom’s medication, I’m not going to take it lying down. You’d better give up that last offer you made.”

The words sting, mostly because deserve them. I was backed into a corner, and I used the most vulnerable piece of her life as a bargaining chip.

It was a low move, a desperate one.

But after the last few days, the idea of ever using Lisette’s medicine to get Gemma to do anything feels dirty and wrong.

“I know,” I say, the fight draining out of me. “Lisette’s medicine won’t be missing.”

The change in her is immediate. She looks at me, her defensive posture softening slightly, her eyes wide with surprise.

I’m about to ask her what her plans are, to try and extend this fragile truce, when her phone rings. She pulls it out, and it’s Mikhail.

Of course, that bastard.

My expression hardens instantly. My jaw clenches so tight it grinds, but what can I do?

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