The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 305

Chapter 305-1

Gemma’s POV

“What exactly did you understand?”

“Nothing, let’s go back. It’s getting cold”

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His answer is frustratingly vague, and I have no energy to decipher him tonight. If he wants to be mysterious, let him. I just pull my jacket tighter as a cool breeze nips at my skin; the forecast did warn of rain later.

Back at Oakhaven, I head straight for the stairs, my mind already on the uncomfortable reality of the shared bedroom waiting for me.

Halfway up, I meet Lauren coming down from the third floor. Her eyes immediately lock onto the fresh bedding in Gemma’s arms, and her expression tightens into something stiff and disapproving.

“Mrs. Blackwell,” she says, her voice a little too sharp. “Are you… planning to sleep in the master bedroom tonight?”

The question is so intrusive it throws me off. Since when is my sleeping arrangement any of her business?

Before I can form a reply, Chloe steps in, her tone polite but firm. “It’s only natural for a married couple to share a room.”

Lauren’s lips press into a thin line. She’s scrambling for a reason, any reason. “Mrs. Blackwell is in the early stages of

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The audacity makes me frown. Just as I’m about to retort, Cassian’s voice comes from the bottom of the stairs,

“I sleep perfectly still.”

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Did he hear everything? He reaches my side, his arm sliding around my waist in a gesture that feels both possessive and protective.

“I would never harm my wife.”

He doesn’t even look at Lauren as he says it; his focus is entirely on guiding me past her and into the bedroom. I throw one last, lingering look at Lauren over my shoulder, her face a perfect mask of thwarted ambition.

Once Chloe finishes her tasks and leaves us alone, the silence feels uncomfortable again. I perch on the edge of the bed, bracing myself. Cassian studies me for a moment before sitting beside me.

“Do you think Lauren is… problematic?” he asks, his tone thoughtful. “Should we find a new nutritionist?”

The suggestion surprises me. “What makes you say that?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“She doesn’t need to cook, yet she insisted on preparing a separate meal just for me. And just now, she tried to interfere with us sleeping in the same room.” He looks at me, his expression earnest. “Isn’t that suspicious enough?”

Can’t help the slight raise of my eyebrow. “Did she actually try

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“Yes, she did,” he states firmly. “No, we should replace her tomorrow.” He seems to have made up his mind just like that, getting up and heading towards the bathroom, lost in his own thoughts.

I almost laugh. So he can tell when a woman is being overly attentive. I had started to think he was completely oblivious, but the truth is… I don’t really care anymore. Whether he fires Lauren or keeps her on, it doesn’t change the fundamental fractures between us.

It’s all just background noise.

That first night back in the same room is as awkward as I anticipated. I linger in the bathroom for as long as I possibly can, the running water a shield against the silence next door.

A sharp knock finally breaks my procrastination. “Gemma, are you okay in there?”

His voice startles me. “Coming!” I call out, quickly turning off

the shower.

Wrapping myself in a towel, I make a beeline for my side of the bed. I slip under the covers and pull them up to my chin. My strategy is simple: close my eyes, fake being asleep, and hopefully stop my mind from racing.

Click.

The room plunges into darkness, and my heart gives a nervous flutter. I lie rigidly on my side, clinging to the very edge of the 3/4

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mattress, putting as much distance between us as physically possible.

I feel the dip of the mattress as he moves, and then a hand gently touches my shoulder, trying to pull me towards the center. I instantly flip onto my back, my hand flying out to press against his chest. “What are you doing?”

The question is sharp with accusation, but I only hear a soft sigh in the darkness.

“You were about to fall off the edge…”

He explains, his voice laced with a hint of helplessness.

“Oh. Goodnight,” I mumble, rolling back onto my side, this time a little less precariously.

I rest a hand on my belly. The exhaustion from the day, compounded by the long walk, eventually wins out, and I drift into a fitful, hazy sleep.

I don’t feel it when, much later, his arms carefully slide around me, drawing me from the edge into the warmth and safety of his embrace.

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