The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 314

Chapter 314

Cassian’s POV

The supervisor stands before my desk, nodding so vigorously I get worried for his spine snapping into two. “It’s done, Mr. Blackwell. Just as you instructed. But… if this invoice gets processed, the loss will be substantial.”

I had personally handed the file to Kitty and discreetly altered the final figure she calculated. A single, misplaced decimal point. The resulting loss already stretches into seven figures.

“That isn’t your concern.”

The numbers on the page are just numbers, the real calculation is happening elsewhere.

A bead of sweat traces a path down his temple. Of course. Mr. Blackwell, excuse me please…

He practically flees the office.

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Alone, I look over the documents on my desk. By tomorrow, Kitty will be staring at a demand for an astronomical sum in compensation. The official record will show a catastrophic miscalculation on her part, a rookie error with devastating financial consequences.

All losses will be hers to bear… it is a perfectly designed trap.

*****

1/7

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**Lucky Draw

Tom drives me back to Oakhaven that night, a steady rain is blurring the world outside. At the villa’s entrance, a solitary figure standing in the downpour catches my eye.

Sir, Tom says, his voice hesitant, that looks like… Ms. Lauren Simmons?”

I don’t need to look closely. The silhouette is unmistakably Lauren’s, drenched and pathetic.

I don’t respond. Tom, understanding my silence, doesn’t slow down either. The car glides past her without a pause, the tires hissing on the wet asphalt. In the periphery, I see her turn, watching us drive by with hopeful desperation in her eyes.

But I feel nothing. No pity, no curiosity.

The moment the car is in the garage, I get out. And there she is, already at the garage entrance, water pooling around her shoes

on the clean concrete.

Mr. Blackwell!

She calls out, her voice trembling from the cold or the effort. “Please, just a few minutes of your time? I promise I’ll be quick. Mrs. Blackwell wouldn’t allow me inside, so I had no choice but

to wait here.”

Is she trying to blame Gemma for her own poor judgment?

She misinterprets the frown on my face, “Oh! It’s not her fault! I know she doesn’t care for me, but I truly need to speak with you.”

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Lucky Draw

I glance down at the growing puddle of rainwater spreading from her clothes onto the pristine floor.

“You’re dirtying my floor.”

I say flatly and the hope in her eyes shatters. I turn my back on her and her manufactured drama, walking into the main house without a second glance.

I find Gemma in the living room, idly watching television. It’s a rare sight in itself.

She looks up as I enter, her gaze briefly meeting mine before returning to the screen.

Next time there’s someone loitering outside that you don’t want to see, just call neighborhood security. They’ll handle it.‘

She looks genuinely puzzled. “Who is it?”

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So, she had no idea Lauren was staging her little tragic performance at our doorstep. The woman hadn’t even tried to get past the door! Good.

Nothing, I dismiss it, the matter already forgotten. “What do you want for dinner?”

Gemma’s POV

“Sea bass en papillote.”

I don’t have any desire to eat fish, but it’s the first dish that pops into my head and I just want to end the conversation about

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Chloe simply nods and heads to the kitchen to begin preparations.

“Let’s go to the hospital to see your mother tomorrow.”

Lucky Draw

My hand freezes around the remote. This is the first time he has ever proactively suggested visiting her.

I look at him, searching for an ulterior motive, but his expression is unreadable.

I had already planned to go tomorrow, promised mom I’d try to take her downstairs if the weather was nice, to feel the sun on her face. “Don’t you have work?”

I ask, my voice carefully neutral.

“The schedule at Blackwell Industries is light. Liam is managing it, I only need to make a brief appearance now and then.

Mom is still fragile, just out of major surgery. More visitors, especially calm, stable ones, could be good for her. But his presence feels like a complication. “You don’t need to rearrange your entire day for me. I can manage on my own.”

“It’s fine,” he insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want to go with you.”

*****

The next morning, I find Cassian already downstairs, but he’s

not alone.

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Lucky Draw

A new man, dressed in a crisp, white chef’s jacket that looks too pristine for this hour, stands stiffly in the living room.

“This is the new nutritionist!”

Cassian announces, and I almost sigh aloud. His persistence is both impressive and exhausting. I give a slight nod, I don’t have the energy to fight this battle again.

But this time, I’m prepared. I list everything: every food I dislike, every ingredient that turns my stomach, every texture I can’t abide. The man, whose name I don’t even catch, diligently records every word in a small leather–bound notebook.

He then produces the nutrition plan Lauren left behind.

“This framework is quite sound,” he remarks, studying the chart. “If you have no objections, I’ll adhere to its principles but alter the specific meal compositions.”

I just shrug. I have no investment in his methods, as long as he stays away from lemon juice and doesn’t try to resign when I refuse something.

After a quick, simple breakfast, I head for the garage, making a beeline for my Porsche. I have no intention of being chauffeured today. Besides, the car’s low–slung, uncomfortable passenger seat is a perfect deterrent.

The moment I slide into the driver’s seat, the passenger door opens and Cassian gets in, buckling his seatbelt with a fluid, practiced motion.

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