The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 299

Gemma’s POV

Mikhail’s face, which a moment before was filled with lazy amusement, instantly hardens.

He pulls his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache. “What are you babbling about?”

He asks, his voice flat and utterly devoid of its usual teasing lilt.

“Oh come on! You’re not going to deny it, are you?” I press, a little thrown by his reaction. “The entire office seems to be in on the secret. They all say Miss. Cooper is your fiancée.”

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “My fiancée? Did you accidentally ingest some of the lab’s experimental neurotoxins? Having a vivid hallucination?”

He genuinely seems to have no idea what I’m talking about. So I tell him, describing the scene I just witnessed: Vicky Cooper’s ruthless power trip, the public humiliation of the young intern, the tossed–away breakfast, and the whispered justification that followed her… hailing her as Mr. Voloshin’s fiancée.

“She’s leveraging the title to act like a tyrant…”

I finish, my own frustration from my Blackwell Industries days coloring my tone. “If she’s firing people on a whim, you’re

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looking at a messy arbitration.”

+2 Bonus

A dark, cold fury settles on Mikhail’s features. I can almost see the pieces clicking into place in his mind. Vicky Cooper is, nominally, Liam’s niece.

He tolerated her presence at Dream International for that reason alone, offering her nothing more in the name of courtesy than a simple nod in the hallway.

The idea that she has been circulating the news of their

engagement, using it as a way to justify her abuse of authority, makes him way too angry.

He despises being manipulated.

“I see.”

He says, the two words dripping with icy promise. He takes a breath, visibly forcing his temper under control.

“Anyway, Mr. Smith mentioned an urgent project for you. There’s a break room attached to my office. It’s soundproofed and has a dedicated, secure terminal. Use that.”

I simply nod and retreat into the designated space, glad to be away from the brewing storm.

The project itself is straightforward, a simple encryption protocol for a Nassau communications channel.

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+2 Bonus

It’s the kind of busywork Smith sends when he wants to check on my skills, or perhaps just keep me occupied. I finish it in under thirty minutes.

When the video call connects, Smith’s weathered face fills the screen. “Moonlight! He hasn’t been causing you any trouble lately, has he?”

I offer a small, reassuring smile. “Nothing I can’t handle. He’s been relatively well–behaved now–a–days.”

Tt’s mostly true.

I can see the relief in the slight relaxation of his shoulders.

“Good. Thank you. You have to understand… he’s just been indulged.”

The words are layered with a complex mix of affection, duty, and exhaustion.

“Me. Smith….”

I say, hesitating for a moment. I could take the payment and sign off. But the image of Mikhail, a caged bird beating its wings against the gilded cage of his family’s expectations, is too vivid. “There’s something I feel I should say.”

He gives a slow nod.

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+2 Bonus

“You know that line from the old movie?” I begin, choosing my words carefully, “Some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright.”

I let the reference hang in the air between us. “Mikhail is one of those birds. All the security, the oversight, the attempts to manage him… it’s all just a cage. Ile’s meant for open skies, not a gilded prison.”

Smith is silent for a long moment absorbing the words. A sad, almost wistful smile touches his lips.

“Thank you for sharing your perspective today. The payment has been transferred to your account.”

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The screen goes dark before I can say another word. I let out a soft sigh. I’ve said what I felt needed to be said… the rest is out of my hands.

“It’s finished…” I announce, stepping out of the break room.

The remaining words die in my throat. Mikhail is not alone. Vicky Cooper is standing in the middle of his office, and her eyes, wide with a mixture of shock and venom, are locked on me as I emerge from his private space.

“What is she doing in there?” Vicky demands, her voice shrill, her finger pointing accusingly at me. The implication is clear and ugly, as everyone knows what that room is often used for.

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Mikhail’s frown deepens. “What business is it of yours?”

“How is it not my business?”

+2 Bonus

She fires back, her composure cracking. “Mikhail, you can’t just forget the promise you made to Liam! We-”

“That was children playing make–believe!”

He interrupts, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t be delusional. If you’re unhappy with your position here, the door is open.”

He’s being blunt, but civil, given the circumstances. It’s more patience than I would have expected.

But Vicky is beyond reason. Her eyes well up with big fat tears. “How can you be so cruel? Is it because of her?” Her gaze whips back to me, full of loathing. “What is she to you? Why does she get to be in your private room?”

“Vicky,” Mikhail’s voice drops, becoming dangerously calm. “You are at Dream International because of your qualifications, not our families‘ acquaintance. But publicly challenging your CEO is a line you do not cross. Effective tomorrow, you are transferred to the marketing department.”

It’s a brilliant, brutal move. The marketing team is never in the office; they’re always in the field. He’s exiling her from his orbit.

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+2 Bonus

The color drains from Vicky’s face. “The marketing department? Mikhail, you can’t do this to me!”

“The alternative is resignation. The choice is yours.”

Her tears finally spill over, tracing lines through her meticulously applied makeup.

She shoots me one last, hate–filled glare before turning on her heel and storming out, the door slamming shut behind her with a final bang.

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