The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 334

Chapter 334

Gemma’s POV

“I took some art classes in school and never really wanted to give it up, so I still dabble occasionally,” Aronn explains, his focus already shifting between me and the blank page.

“Miss. Marino, please, just be my model. Feel free to move naturally, there is absolutely no need to hold a stiff pose.”

This is a first for me. I’ve never been anyone’s artistic muse before. A memory pops up on its own: the scene from Titanic, where Jack is sketching Rose.

The intimacy of that moment suddenly feels very real, and I’m suddenly aware of the fact that for the next while, Aronn’s gaze will be fixed on me, noting details even I am unaware of.

It’s a strangely vulnerable feeling.

I had braced myself for a long, tedious session, assuming

14:58 1/8 a portrait required at least thirty minutes of absolute

stillness. So, I’m surprised when, after only about ten minutes, he looks up and says, “That’s it for now. Thanks a lot!”

Feeling strangely curious, I walk over to take a look. He has captured the basic shape and features in pencil, a delicate, precise outline waiting to be filled in with colour.

“This is really good,” I compliment him genuinely. “This doesn’t look like casual dabbling at all.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen a rendition of myself that feels so authentically me, even in its unfinished state.

“I’m glad you don’t think it’s terrible, Ms. Marino,” he replies with a modest smile.

I’m not a particularly critical person, and his skill is obvious. Before we part ways, we exchange contact information, it seems polite and I have no reason to

refuse.

No sooner have I said goodbye to Aronn, than my phone rings. The name on the screen sends a jolt through me: Grandpa. I’ve been dreading this.

2/8

14:58

I never officially told him about the divorce.

“Gemma, what are you up to? Are you busy?” His voice is as kind and warm as ever, tugging at my conscience.

“Grandpa, I’m not busy at all. Is everything alright?”

“Nothing’s wrong, not really. I just haven’t seen you in so long. My old knees have been acting up again, and it’s got me feeling a bit melancholy, thinking about the past.”

A knot of anxiety tightens in my stomach. Grandpa’s health has always been fragile. The mention of his knees worsening makes me instantly worried.

“Grandpa, where’s Simeon? And why hasn’t Cassian taken you to the hospital for a check–up?”

He hears the care in my voice, and I can almost feel his touched smile through the phone. “Just the usual aches and pains, child, it’s nothing serious. But I’ve missed you,

dear. Will you come back for dinner tonight?”

my

I hesitate, feeling the burden of expectation with each second of silence. I’m divorced from his grandson. Péchnically, nothing in that family is my concern 14:58

anymore.

But the gratitude I feel for Grandpa is completely separate from the messy dynamics of their family. He showed me kindness when few others did, and that’s a debt I won’t forget, regardless of legal papers.

My hesitation, I realize, is rooted in one primary fear: running into Cassian and the unbearable awkwardness that would follow.

“Don’t you worry,” Grandpa says, as if reading my mind. “Cassian won’t be here.”

He has directly dismantled my main excuse. I can’t refuse a lonely, ailing old man.

“Okay, Grandpa,” I relent softly. “I’ll come by later.”

I hang up the phone and let out a long, weary sigh. It seems some chapters are harder to close than others.

Zoey’s POV

Only two things stand out inside this amusement park, vading at my nerves: shrieking brats and overpriced, 1

greasy food. I’m stuck here, accompanying my friend Claire in babysitting her feral nephew, Charlie, who is currently trying to rip the pigtails off some random little girl.

How classy!

“Zoey,” Claire says, “since you’ve lost your job now, how are you even going to support yourself?”

The mention of my unemployment is a fresh slap. “I’ll go home and rely on my parents,” I snap back. It’s not a real plan, but it shuts her up.

It’s better than admitting I’m drowning in credit card debt, all thanks to a certain someone.

“Your nephew is tugging on a little girl’s braid,” I point out, eager to redirect her useless concern.

Claire gasps and rushes over. “Charlie, stop it!”

She yanks the little monster by the ear and drags him back toward me. As she does, her gaze snags on a woman a little way off. I see her do a double–take.

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14:59

“Zoey,” she whispers, her eyes squinting. “Is that… Gemma?”

I follow her gaze, and my blood instantly boils. There she is! The high–and–mighty bitch who got me blacklisted from Dream Entertainment.

“That’s her!”

I hiss, the anger flooding my veins.

“I could pick her out of a crowd of a thousand!”

I start forward, ready to march over and give her a piece of my mind. Why should I be struggling to pay my bills while she prances around, looking so pleased with herself?

“Hey, Zoey, take it easy!”

Claire yanks me back by the arm, and I whirl on her with all my aggression.

“What? She’s your family, so you’re taking her side now?”

Blood is always thicker than water, even when the bidd I

is a backstabbing snake.

Claire frowns, looking genuinely disgusted. “She might have used her tricks to be called my family, but look closely. The man beside her is not Cassian.”

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