The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 307

Chapter 307-1

Gemma’s POV

The final click of my mouse is a small, satisfying sound in the quiet of the studio. Two projects, finished.

“You’re pregnant now; you should minimize screen time.”

Jace’s voice is a familiar, concerned murmur from the doorway. He’s been hovering all day, a nervous guardian convinced my laptop is emitting malevolent rays.

“Got it, you nag!”

I say jokingly.

“Why is Jace the nag?”

Molly whispers, leaning conspiratorially toward Zina.

“Because Jace manages our entire team, like both a father and a mother,” Zina explains, not bothering to lower her voice. “He’s very strict about whether Gemma drinks cold or hot water.”

I see Jace roll his eyes, but he accepts the title with a resigned shrug. He knows it’s true.

I power down the computer, the screen fading to black. “Alright, team. I’m starving. Let’s get dinner. My treat.”

We’re a chattering group heading down the stairs with the 15:22 promise of food and wine… well, parkling water for me.

< Chapter 307-1

Lucky Draw

I’m pulling my coat on when my phone buzzes with a Twitter notification. That’s odd. I rarely post; my last update was that whole messy business with Reyna

A direct message feels both novel and intrusive.

Curiosity gets the better of me. I tap the icon and open it.

Who is it? What’s going on? Zina squeezes next to me, her chin practically on my shoulder, insisting on seeing the screen.

The message is from a blank, anonymous account: [Gemma, I am an employee at your husband’s company and just started today. Kitty is my colleague, and she is using a dinner invitation to cling to Mr. Blackwell. If you have time, please come over. The address is…]

Zina pulls back, her eyes wide with theatrical shock. “Are you going? It seems like your cousin is trying to steal your husband.”

The message is a one–off; no picture, no follow–up. I don’t feel a spike of jealousy. The idea of Cassian being genuinely interested in Kitty is laughable. But a cold anger settles in my gut.

We aren’t divorced yet, she is my cousin. If this turns into another public spectacle, the online vultures will have a field day, and the fallout will be a massive headache for everyone.

I bend down and slide into the car. “Let’s go and join the fun.”

The car soon pulls up to the address. I look up at the restaurant’s lavish, gleaming facade and let out a dry chuckle. 214.

Kitty really went all out for this dinner.”

15:22

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Lucky Draw

She’s playing in the big leagues now, spending a fortune to try and impress.

After getting the room number from a waiter, I turn to the team. “Zina, Jace, all of you… get a table out here. Eat something, I’ll handle this alone.”

“I’ll go with you, in case Kitty bullies you,” Zina volunteers immediately, her expression a little too eager.

“I know what you’re up to,” I say, a small smile on my lips. “It’s just Kitty, I can handle her.”

I go upstairs alone, feeling Jace’s concerned gaze on my back until I turn the corner. The hallway is plush and quiet. I don’t hesitate. I push the door to the private room open.

A dozen faces, flushed with alcohol and good cheer, turn to me. The chatter dies instantly, replaced by a stunned silence.

“Mrs. Blackwell, why are you so late?”

A man blurts out, his voice too loud. “Didn’t Mr. Blackwell leave with Kitty just ten minutes ago?”

The words land like a physical blow, but not for the reason they think. Left with her? My mind races, calculating. This isn’t just Kitty being clingy anymore, something is wrong.

“You said Kitty helped Cassian leave?”

My voice cuts through the false bonhomie. The room falls utterly 3/4

15:22

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silent under the weight of my serious expression.

Lucky Draw

“Mrs. Blackwell, you… you didn’tknow?” a woman stammers, her face pale.

If I had known, would I have come here?

At that moment, a petite girl I hadn’t noticed stands up from the corner. She bows her head slightly, her hands clenched nervously.

“Ms. Marino,” she says, her voice quiet but clear. “I sent you the message. I’m Elly. I’m sorry I didn’t have any other way to contact you. Ten minutes ago, Mr. Blackwell was too drunk much and was taken away by Kitty.”

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15:22

< The Don Tore Up Our Divorce

Chapter 307-2

Lucky Drow

My blood runs cold. I don’t believe it for a second, Cassian’s alcohol tolerance is formidable. And he’s pathologically cautious at company events, he would never drink enough to lose control.

He might not even have touched the food.

“Where’s his glass?”

I ask, my tone leaving no room for argument.

A forest of fingers points to a single, empty tumbler with a faint residue of amber liquid at the bottom. I walk over, my heels clicking on the floor in the dead quiet. I pick it up carefully by the rim. Without another word, I turn and leave the room, the glass held like a piece of evidence.

I can hear the bewildered whispers erupt behind me.

“What is Mrs. Blackwell doing? Isn’t Kitty her cousin?”

“Are you stupid? I noticed Kitty was being so forward, constantly toasting him. He only drank one glass. Could he really be drunk? Maybe she spiked it.”

“What? A cousin trying to steal her sister’s husband? This is too dramatic.”

Their gossip is just noise. I’m already at the front desk, getting a small plastic bag to seal the glass. “Did you see anyone from that room leave?” I ask the receptionist.

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Lucky Draw

She offers a polished, vacant smile. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We have many guests, and we can’t keep track of everyone.”

I nod, as if I understand perfectly Then I lean in slightly,

“Okay. Then please inform your manager that someone was drugged in your restaurant. The person is now missing. If anything happens to him, your restaurant will undoubtedly be shut down for the subsequent police investigation.”

The receptionist’s smile vanishes. She gasps, seeing the absolute seriousness in my eyes, and fumbles for the phone.

The manager, a man in a tight suit, arrives within moments. After I lay out the facts, he escorts me to the surveillance room

without another word.

All the while, my phone is pressed to my ear. I keep calling Cassian. It rings, unanswered. Then, after a couple of rings, it’s

cut off.

The next time, it goes straight to voicemail. Finally, a robotic voice informs me the number is switched off.

A cold fury tightens my chest. I should have installed a tracker on his phone…

The surveillance footage is a continuous stream. I have to fast–forward through hours of mundane lobby traffic. My heart is a frantic drum, but my hands are steady.

Finally, I see them. Kitty, with Cassian’s arm draped heavily over her shoulders, is half–guiding, half–dragging him out of the2

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Lucky Draw

He’s stumbling, his head lolling. That is not the walk of a drunk man, that is the walk of a sedated man.

“Where does this elevator go?” I ask, my voice tight.

“To the hotel suites, ma’am,” the manager replies, looking ill.

My stomach plummets. “Show me the footage from the suites.”

The elevator camera offers a cruel, clear view. Kitty has a greedy little smile on her face while supporting Cassian’s limp form. The doors open on the fourth floor. We switch to the hallway camera and watch her maneuver him down the corridor, stopping at a door. Room 407.

I turn to the manager, my hand outstretched. “Give me the key card.”

He hesitates, his professional training warring with the sheer insanity of the situation. “Ma’am, may I ask what your relationship with this gentleman is?”

The question is so absurd, so utterly infuriating, that a laugh almost escapes me. I look him dead in the eye, my voice cold and final. “Why is that important? You can see he is sedated-“”

He blinks, taken aback. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we can’t disclose our guests‘ information or provide access…

I cut him off. I don’t have time for this. “Fine. We’re married, and I forgot my key card. Please issue me another one for room 407. Thank you.”

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Lucky Draw

The sheer, audacious cleverness of it leaves him speechless. He just stares. The receptionist, quicker on the uptake, quickly processes a new key card and slides it across the counter to me, her eyes wide.

“Here you go, ma’am,” she squeaks. “Enjoy your stay!”

I take the card, its plastic edge stabbing against my palm. Without another word, I turn and walk toward the elevators, my steps quick and determined, the key to my husband’s prison held tightly in my hand.

Zina’s POV

Not far away, Molly, her mouth full of crab, mumbles, “Gemma just got on the elevator.”

My eyes instantly light up. I know this place. The suites upstairs aren’t for more dining. A slow, wicked grin spreads across my face. If Gemma is charging up there, it can only mean one thing: she’s going to catch them red–handed. This is better than any reality show.

Stop eating! I command, slapping my napkin on the table. “Let’s go upstairs!”

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