The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 289

Gemma’s POV

I feel the weight of glances, the subtle turns of heads in my direction. Although I’m not moving around much, whispers still get pulled towards me like they are bound by invisible threads.

I keep my posture straight, my expression neutral, a small smile on my lips like an island in a sea of speculation.

Cassian was whisked away by Liam on some urgent business matter, leaving me alone at the center of this sudden, silent storm. I don’t have to wait long for the first wave to break.

A young girl I’ve never seen before, encased in a tight fishtail dress that looks more uncomfortable than elegant, approaches

1. me.

She crosses her arms, trying to act superior, and looks me up and down with a dismissive sneer. Her gaze, cold and assessing, lingers on the pearls at my neck.

“Are you Mrs. Blackwell?”

She asks, her tone implying the title itself is a joke.

I don’t recognize her. I simply maintain my smile, but don’t respond. Some questions don’t deserve an answer.

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She takes my silence as weakness and smirks condescendingly. “An unsophisticated peasant like you is getting the opportunity to come to such an event like this, still you’re dressed in such an old–fashioned gown. Just as expected! Aren’t you ashamed of wearing that fake necklace on top of that?”

Now, I’m genuinely puzzled. “Who are you?”

“You!” she sputters, affronted that I don’t know her. “It doesn’t matter who I am. I just can’t stand you wearing fakes. This is the Opal Group’s event, and you dare wear fakes right in front of the chairman. You’ve got some nerve.

I look at her, this stranger quivering with misplaced outrage. “It’s not for you to judge whether I’ve got nerve or not,” I reply, my tone even. “To face a stranger with such malice, you’re pretty pathetic.”

Her eyes widen in outrage. “Am I wrong? Do you even know how much your necklace and earrings are worth?”

“I don’t!” I fire back instantly, my quick, unashamed reply clearly catching her off guard.

“Why bother arguing with such people?” a new, horribly familiar voice chimes in. Claire saunters over, a viper joining its mate. “She’s just greedy and vain. Why else would she marry Cassian? He never liked her. She’s always been the one pursuing him just for the money.”

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Ah. So that’s it. It’s Claire stirring up trouble again, using this ignorant girl as her mouthpiece.

The girl, emboldened, nods in agreement. “Claire, Cassian has such poor taste, fancying a woman like that. The Blackwell family really has bad luck.”

It’s at this moment that Sybille decides to make her entrance, gliding to stand not by her daughter, but pointedly by my side. The performance begins.

“Claire, watch your words and apologize to Cassian’s wife,” she says, her voice a masterclass in false propriety.

“Mom, I’m just telling the truth. Why should I apologize?” Claire whines, playing her part perfectly.

“We’re in public,” Sybille chastises, her gaze sweeping the room as if reminding everyone of the audience. “How can you air our private matters like this?” She then turns her saccharine attention to me. “Besides, Cassian’s wife isn’t like what you’ve described. Even though she doesn’t have a regular job and relies on Cassian, being a housewife is also a skill. Don’t belittle her.”

The defense is more insulting than the attack. She’s not defending me; she’s building a cage around me, defining me by my supposed dependency. A skill? She makes it sound like a consolation prize.

But it’s Claire’s next words that shatter the last of my patience.

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Fueled by her mother’s backhanded support, she looks me dead in the eye and sneers, “A housewife? That’s laughable. If she were a housewife, she’d have a child by now, not be barren!”

The word hangs in the air, ugly and cruel.

She has barely finished when my hand connects with her check. The sound is sharp, a crisp crack that, while loud, seems absorbed by the vastness of the lawn. But the people nearby hear it. I see their shocked faces, their hands flying to their mouths.

Claire covers her face, her eyes wide with incredulous fury. “You’re crazy! How could you hit me?”

“You deserve it,” I state, my voice cold and clear. “A young lady like

you, speaking so crudely. Is that something to be proud of? Is this how the Blackwell family has raised you all these years? I can’t just stand by since your mother’s teachings have failed!”

She is both angry and aggrieved, sputtering, “Gemma, I won’t let you off!”

My hand flies out again. Another slap, this one snapping her head to the side. “I am Cassian’s wife,” I remind her, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You talk about family matters carelessly in public and show no respect for others. You’ve really gone too far!”

Sybille stands frozen, too stunned by my audacity to react

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immediately. It isn’t until Claire turns to her, sobbing and begging her to intervene, that she finally frowns at me.

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But I am quicker. I turn to her, my expression one of grave concern. “Sybille, if her grandfather saw Claire behaving like this, he’d be furious. She’d be the one to suffer under family discipline later.” I let my gaze sweep the growing crowd. “With more people arriving soon, the Blackwell family’s reputation would be at stake.”

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