The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 320

Chapter 320

Liam’s POV

The rain isn’t falling, it’s trying to drown the city. I finally manage to drag Cassian’s dead weight back through the bar doors, away from the monsoon happening outside. He’s a soaked, miserable mess, slumped against me, and his broken record of a mantra is the only thing cutting through the music. “Gemma… Gemma, Gemma…”

I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t stick. This is pathetic.

Stop calling her!” I snap, propping him up in a booth. Before the divorce, you had no feelings left for her. You were ice. Now she’s moved on to someone new, and you’re here, drunk and sentimental?”

I don’t know if the words are penetrating the alcoholic fog, but he frowns, his face twisting in discomfort.

Good! Maybe a little shame is finally sinking in. I pull out my phone, call a cab, and when it arrives, I half–carry, half–drag him back out.

The taxi can’t get into the parking garage at Oakhaven, so it stops at the main entrance, a good fifty feet from the door.

I curse under my breath, the rain instantly soaking through my jacket. I’m just bracing myself for the miserable sprint to the doer when an appears over our heads.

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I’m Mr. Blackwell’s nutritionist, she says, her voice smooth. “It’s raining heavily, and he might catch a cold like this. Let’s get inside quickly!”

A nutritionist? I’m too surprised to question it. Did Cassian hire someone this attentive? And this beautiful? It seems out of character, but right now, I’m just grateful for the cover.

We make it inside, dripping all over the foyer. Chloe, the housekeeper, appears, her face a mask of concern, and immediately scurries off for towels. But this Lauren woman, this ‘nutritionist,‘ acts like she owns the place. She marches straight to the kitchen as if she’s done it a hundred times before and starts pulling out lemons.

Chloe comes back with an armful of fluffy towels, a slight frown on her face as she watches Lauren commandeer the kitchen. But she says nothing, since Cassian approved it.

Within minutes, Lauren is back with two glasses of lemon juice. She hands one to me. “Sir, have some too.”

Her smile is perfectly polite.

She turns her attention to Cassian, holding the other glass to his lips, personally feeding him like he’s a child. I just watch, baffled. I can’t figure out their dynamic, but my throat is raw from shouting over the music and the storm. I’m not going to neglect my health.

I take a big, grateful gulp of the lemon juice.

Mye

eyes widen slightly. It’s… incredible. Perfectly balanced, not1

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instantly. Okay, I think, taking another sip. Maybe competent isn’t the right word. The nutritionist is a goddamn artist.

Cassian’s POV

The first sensation I become aware of, is a dull, throbbing pressure behind my eyes, a familiar and unwelcome ghost from last night.

I wake up in my own bed, in the master bedroom of Oakhaven and instantly, feel something stabbing behind my eyes.

The headache is a brutal reminder of the bar, the rain, and the crushing weight of the divorce certificate in my pocket. I push the heavy duvet off, the movement sending a fresh spike of pain through my skull.

At least I didn’t black out…

The hazy, shameful memory of Liam dragging my incoherent self out of the taxi is still there.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pause. I’m in dry, clean pajamas. Did Liam change me? Since when did he become so… thoughtful? The idea is almost as unsettling as the hangover.

I make my way downstairs, each step echoing in the too–quiet house. Chloe is in the foyer, dusting the same spot on a vase over and over. She watches me descend, her expression a peculiar mix of relief and unease.

Where’s Liam? I ask, my voice rough from disuse and too much

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Mr. Stafford went back last night, she says. She hesitates, wringing the dust cloth in her hands. “Sir, about last night…”

Before she can continue, a figure glides out of the kitchen. It’s Lauren, holding a tray with a meticulously arranged breakfast and a steaming mug. She smiles at me, “Mr. Blackwell, you’re awake. Here’s breakfast I made for you, with honey water to ease your headache.”

The sight of her here, in my home, acting as if she belongs right here, sends a jolt of pure irritation through me, cutting through the headache. “What are you doing here?”

I dismissed her., then what- Chloe interjects quickly. “Ms. Simmons said she brought you back, sir. She insisted that you weren’t feeling well and that only she could help.”

I can hear the disapproval Cjlocy is too loyal to voice.

Lauren’s smile falters under my gaze. She sets the tray down on the console table and clasps her hands in front of her, adopting a posture of deep contrition. “Mr. Blackwell, I apologize for my previous mistakes in not fulfilling my duties as a nutritionist.” She bows her head. “I hope you’ll give me another chance. I’ll definitely fulfill my responsibilities this time!”

Her performance is flawless, her eyes wide with fake sincerity. It only fuels my annoyance. “I don’t need a nutritionist.” The statement is absolute. I hired her for Gemma, a futile attempt to control a situation that was already spiraling. Now, with Gemma gone, the very presence of this woman is an unnecessary complication, a reminder of a failed strategy. 4/7

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< Chapter 320

Lucky Draw

A look of quiet satisfaction crosses Chloe’s face. “Ms. Simmons, thank you for bringing Mr. Blackwell back yesterday,” she says, her tone politely dismissive. “But how that he’s awake, you can leave.” I feel a surge of gratitude for Chloe’s unshakable loyalty.

Lauren’s face darkens, the pleasant mask slipping to reveal a core of stubborn ambition. “Mr. Blackwell, you knew when you hired me that I needed money urgently. Please, give me this chance-”

I’ve had enough. I walk to a nearby cabinet, pull out a bank card, and hold it out to her. “There’s a hundred thousand in here. For your work till now. Consider the matter closed.” My tone brokers no argument. “Chloe will take you to get it.”

She stiffens, her body going rigid with frustrated disbelief. She clearly thought her little rescue act would secure her a permanent position.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, the fight draining out of her. She has no leverage left. “Thank you, Mr. Blackwell,” she mutters, bowing slightly before turning to follow Chloe out.

Later, at Blackwell Industries, the moment I step into my office, I give the order to Adam. It’s the first thing on my mind, the question that has been festering since the courthouse. “Find out whose child is in Gemma’s belly.”

Adam’s head snaps up from his tablet, his eyes wide with shock. “Mrs. Blackwell is pregnant?” The unspoken question hangs between us: Shouldn’t it be yours?

BG

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