The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 335

Gemma’s POV

As I reach the BlackChapter 335

well Manor, the front door is open just a sliver. I can see Simeon stands behind Grandpa’s chair like a loyal sentry, and I take a pause when I hear the next words.

“Sir Blackwell, so I will not inform Mr. Blackwell of Ms. Marino’s visit?”

Grandpa lets out a grunt, brimming with his current displeasure towards his grandson. “Why would we need to inform him? Let the boy stew in his own regrets for a while.”

Simeon simply nods and falls silent, considering the matter settled.

I push the heavy door open, my arms laden with a bag of fruit I know full well Grandpa doesn’t need… like a token of the gratitude I can never fully express.

14:59 The moment I step inside, Grandpa gets up and takes my 1/8 hands in his.

“Gemma, you’re here!”

His eyes scan my face, concern etching deep lines around them. “Come, let me look at you. Why have you gotten so thin? Are you eating properly? And your mother… I am so sorry, my dear.”

He pats my hand, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “From now on, you are like my own granddaughter. I will worry about you.”

His words are a key that unlocks a dam I’ve been desperately holding shut. Tears well in my eyes.

Since my mother’s sudden, devastating passing, a cold, hard stone of grief has settled in my chest. I’ve been navigating the world in a numb daze. But this… this unconditional, familial concern, becomes my undoing.

He must have known about the divorce for a while, yet he hasn’t mentioned it, hasn’t blamed me. Instead, he’s offering me a new place in his life, a new title: granddaughter.

14:59

The tears finally manage to escape, and Grandpa soothes 2/8

“Gemma, now, now, no more of that. I’m here. Whatever troubles you’ve faced, you can tell me. I will help you sort it out.”

I suddenly realise why he was so determined to have me as his grandson’s wife. He saw something in me… capability, a good heart, a strength he admired.

He always believed I was a thousand times better than any of the other socialites vying for Cassian’s attention. The bitter irony is that his grandson, the one person who should have seen it too, was utterly blind.

I

“Grandpa, Cassian and I… we’re divorced. I’m sorry didn’t tell you sooner. I just… I couldn’t be the wife he needed.”

It feels like a failure, a confession of my own inadequacy, even though my mind knows the truth of our

arrangement.

“Never you mind that! That is his loss, his misfortune. Gemma, you are a brilliant young woman. Do you really Brink you will be in need of admirers? You mere have 68

stand still, and a line of worthy men will form there!”

A laugh escapes, strangled by tears. Perhaps only in the eyes of a loving mother and a doting, surrogate grandfather could I ever be considered such a prize.

“Have you eaten? If not, you will stay and have dinner with me.”

I finally manage to nod, wiping my eyes. I help him to the grand dining room.

“Gemma… would it be alright if I attended your mother’s service?”

The carefulness in his tone squeezes my heart. He’s afraid that, with the divorce, he’s no longer welcome. “Grandpa, of course you can come. My mother would have wanted to finally meet the man whose kindness saw us through our most difficult years.”

She was too ill, too often unconscious, to ever properly thank him. I like to think that now, free from her suffering, she can see clearly, and she is finally at peace.

Algenuine, relieved smile spreads across his face. Gobd59

That is very good.”

After dinner, I start gathering the plates when the doorbell chimes, cutting through the quiet. Grandpa signals to Simeon, who moves to answer it.

The door swings open to reveal Claire, clutching the late Chanel bag like a shield of entitlement. Her eyes land on me, and they instantly fill with a venomous, familiar

sarcasm.

“You,” she sneers, her voice a sharp blade. “What are you doing here? Have you no shame?”

I feel my brow furrow slightly. “I came to visit Grandpa, I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”

A moment later, Sibille sweeps in behind her daughter. “Father.” She announces, as if her arrival is a grand event. “Claire and I came to see you.”

Grandpa’s expression, so warm with me, hardens into polite stone. “Well. Have a seat.”

Claire remains standing, her hostile gaze pinned on me.

andfather, why is someone like her still in our house59

“Claire,” Grandpa’s voice carries a warning. “You will not speak to Gemma that way.”

“Why not?” she retorts, emboldened by her mother’s presence. “She’s just Cassian’s cast–off. And why should I show respect to someone with her utter lack of integrity?”

She rolls her eyes, the picture of arrogance.

“I asked Gemma to be here,” Grandpa states, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If her presence offends you, you are welcome to leave. I will not stop you.”

“Grandfather!” Claire’s cry is one of pure outrage. She cannot fathom why he would choose me over his own blood.

Sibille places a restraining hand on her daughter’s arm. “Father, please, Claire is only thinking of the family’s reputation. If certain… photographs… of Gemma’s activities were to surface, the effect on the Blackwell name would be disastrous.”

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