The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 328

Chapter 328-1

Cassian’s POV

The sting on my check is a dull, throbbing heat, but it’s nothing compared to the raw, humiliated fury burning in my chest. She slapped me… in public. And then she walked away, hand in hand with another man, as if I were nothing.

As if the last three years were nothing. I need to get out of this place, away from the whispers and the lingering scent of her perfume.

As I stride toward the exit, a figure darts into my path. A girl, young, with wide, earnest eyes. She’s holding out a tissue. “Your mouth is bleeding.”

As the neat freak I am, the thought of a stranger’s unknown tissue touching my skin is repellent. I ignore her proffered hand and instead raise my own fingertips, wiping away the single, coppery smear from the corner of my lip.

It’s a simple, instinctive act of fastidiousness.

But to her, it seems to be something else. Her gaze intensifies, turning glassy with a sudden, obsessive focus. She’s looking at me as if I’ve just performed a grand, romantic gesture instead of wiping blood from my face.

Determined not to let me slip away, she pursues me, actually blocking my path again. “It seems your girlfriend just dumped you,” she chirps, her voice gratingly bright. “Does that mean 5:36 you’re single now? How about me? I’m pretty, kind–hearted, and

< Chapter 328-1

Lucky Draw

I frown, regarding her as if she’s mentally unwell. I don’t utter a single word. I simply sidestep her and continue walking, my long legs eating up the pavement I can hear her following for a few steps before she gives up, turning back to shout after me, her hands cupped around her mouth. “He’s so handsome!”

The sound of her stomping her foot in frustration is the final, absurd note to this degrading evening.

By the time I sink into the leather seat of my car, the silence is a welcome blanket. But as all good things in my life, it is short–lived. My phone rings, the screen flashing with a name that commands immediate attention: Grandpa.

I answer, bracing myself. “Grandpa.”

Grandpa’s voice isn’t just loud; it’s a force of nature, even through the speaker. “Where are you?”

I lean my head back against the headrest, a wave of pure weariness washing over me. “I’m at the company,” I lie, the

words automatic.

You’re lying! he barks, not even bothering to hide his disbelief. “I called your employees ages ago, and they said you left two hours ago. Where have you been?”

I am caught off guard. I didn’t expect him to be checking up on my movements so minutely and meticulously. A cold trickle of dread joins the simmering anger. ‘Grandpa, what do you need?”

He snorts, the sound dripping with impatience. “I just want you

Bring Gemma back for dinner tonight. The chef at home has36

15:36

< Chapter 328-1

prepared lasagna.”

The mention of her name is a fresh twist of the knife,

I struggle to find the words, to formulate an excuse for why I can’t possibly bring her back tonight, or any night. But he doesn’t give me the chance,

Unexpectedly, his tone shifts from impatient to deadly serious. “If you don’t come back today, forget about Blackwell Industries.”

The line goes dead. The threat hangs in the quiet,

air–conditioned car, more real and immediate than any slap. I lift my head and rub my brow, a gesture of pure, resigned frustration.

In the driver’s seat, Tom speaks softly, his voice careful. “Mr. Blackwell, shall we head back to Blackwell Manor now?”

The call was loud, and the car was quiet. He heard everything.

I don’t answer. I can’t. I close my eyes, the emotional whiplash of the last hour finally overwhelming me, and I fall into a fitful, uneasy sleep.

The sound of raindrops drumming steadily against the window wakes me. My brief slumber has left a dull ache behind my eyes. “Tom, what time is it?”

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