The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 315

Chapter 315

Gemma’s POV

“Then what type does your Mr. Voloshin like?”

I ask, playing along.

“It has to be someone who can match him!”

Harold states with utter certainty “Preferably someone with her own career, who can join forces with Mr. Voloshin.”

His eyes scan me appraisingly, but no matter how he ranks me on the test, he thankfully remembers who my husband is and keeps the thought to himself.

“No!” I counter, a knowing smile touching my lips. “I think your Mr. Voloshin likes the gentle type”

I remember the girl with soft eyes and a quiet smile… Mikhail’s first love and the ghost he carries.

Harold chokes on his own reply, completely baffled. He really doesn’t understand his employer at all.

Our conversation is cut short by a voice, sharp enough to slice through the office door; Vicky.

I can’t make out the words, but the tone is pure, undiluted fury. A moment later, the door flies open and she storms out, her heels striking the marble floor like gunshots.

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Her gaze lands on me and she shoots me a glare of such pure venom that it makes me recoil. I feel a pang of sheer injustice, I’m just an employee here.

What does her drama have to do with me?!

When I enter Mikhail’s office, he looks like an irritated storm cloud has occupied the chair behind his desk instead.

It’ll be best to stick to business.

“Your pain medication dosage will be reduced in the coming days,” I inform him. “Mr. Smith has entrusted me with it. I’ll give it to you when needed.”

Mikhail looks up,

quite heartless.”

his eyes boring into mine. “Gemma, you are

I meet his gaze without flinching, ‘Likewise.”

I shift the subject, “By the way, last time I worked on that firewall, I connected a tail to the other side’s system… and now, I found some information.”

His interest is piqued, his personal annoyance momentarily shelved. “What information?”

“They’re watching you over there. I don’t think it will be long before there’s another alert.”

“Isn’t that your problem to solve??

He retorts, leaning back as if the entire security of his

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dollar enterprise is my personal hobby.

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“What I mean is that this person’s goal might be more than just breaching Dream International’s system.” I lean forward slightly, “Didn’t I tell you last time there’s an insider? Have you taken it seriously at all?”

Mikhail rubs his temples.

“Have you thought about the suggestion I gave you?”

He asks, clearly itching to flee back to the simpler life of running his private military in Nassau Islands.

The suggestion… the one that involves Cassian?

“I’ll think about it.”

Standing in the descending elevator, the silence feels oppressive. I’ve put it off long enough, this conversation with Cassian can’t wait any longer.

The doors slide open on the ground floor, and as if on cue, my phone rings, flashing with the hospital’s number.

A cold dread, a leftover phantom from yesterday’s terror, instantly grips me. My brow twitches. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end is frantic. “Ms. Marino, we can’t find your mother. Please come quickly!”

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The words don’t fully register. Can’t find her? What does that even mean? Is she wandering? Did she… leave?

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I don’t dare delay. I don’t even reply to the nurse. I simply run for my car, my heart hammering frantic, panicked rhythm against my ribs.

Cassian’s POV

The polished floors of the warehouse echo under my footsteps. The place has the quiet of a morgue today, and I spot Rhett and Reyna, clearing out their desks.

Good riddance.

I’m about to pass by them without a word, but Reyna plants herself directly in my path.

Cassian, I want to talk to you.

There’s nothing to talk about between us.

My tone is flat, final. I don’t break stride.

It’s about Gemma.

That stops me. My feet root to the floor. I turn my head just enough to look at her.

I’ll give you five minutes.

I don’t wait for her agreement, striding into my office. Reyna scurries after me, letting out a sigh of relief as the door closes.

“Gemma is pregnant!”

4/7

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She announces while standing. I was braced for a plea, a threat, some new scheme, but not this.

The statement hangs in the air, absurd and impossible. It was a lie she told grandpa.

“Gemma is pregnant. Of course, I know.”

I keep my voice even, betraying nothing.

No. I mean, she is pregnant. Reyna steps forward, her hands fluttering with anxiety.

Then she sees my expression, the immediate, unconcealed disgust at her proximity, and she freezes. She recovers quickly, pulling a folded paper from her bag.

I accidentally discovered it. Gemma mentioned she had been vomiting. I have connections at the hospital.

She smooths the paper onto my desk with a reverent hand. “Cassian, this is the report. I’m not lying.”

I look down. The words are stark on the prenatal examination report. Gemma’s name, the date, and below it, the confirmation of pregnancy. The air leaves my lungs in a quiet rush. She really is pregnant. She is carrying my child.

I am going to be a father. A strange, fierce joy, sharp and terrifying, pierces through my chest.

Reyna sees it too, and the jealousy that twists her features 56uds the

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entire room. She has to know what this means.

Cassian…his child might not be yours.

The joy evaporates, replaced by an instant, glacial cold. “What do you mean?”

Think about it. Gemma has always been obsessed with you. If she was pregnant with your child, why would she hide it? And you surely weren’t the only one with her on the check–up day!

She leans in, her eyes gleaming. “I saw a video online, the man with her that day was Mikhail. Why would she hide the pregnancy from you, unless she had a reason to?”

The shock comes as a second wave, colder and darker than the

first.

Mikhail was with her? She never showed me this report. She has been hiding this for weeks.

But the core of me, the part that knows her, rejects the ugliest implication. The child is mine… it has to be.

Your five minutes are up.

I pick up the prenatal report, fold it carefully, and place it inside my jacket. “You can leave now.”

She doesn’t argue. A smug, knowing look flashes in her eyes before she turns and goes.

The door clicks shut, and the office is silent again, but me silence

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A moment later, Liam bursts in, blivious to what just happened.

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“Cassian, I think Rhett is really asking for trouble. I saw he had a lot of stuff in his hands and asked if he needed help. Guess what he said! He actually said he didn’t need me pretending to be sympathetic. What does he mean by that?”

Liam slaps his arm in annoyance, “But seriously, does he even know that Mr. Whittaker has called me dozens of times since this morning? His parents want our help to persuade him, while their son won’t even say hello! They even plan to get a priest to check if something is wrong with his head. What should we do?”

I stand up. The Whittaker family’s melodrama, Rhett’s existential crisis is all meaningless noise. I have no room for it in my head, there is only one thing that matters.

Hey, where are you going!

Liam calls out, puzzled, as I stride past him.

To find my wife!