The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 343

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Chapter 343

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My heart hammers against my ribs. I open it. It’s a torrent of anger, a scolding about boundaries and finality. The words are sharp, but they are her words… directed at

1. me.

A ridiculous smile touches my lips.

I carry that feeling into the boardroom. The quarterly projections are on the screen, a drone of numbers and charts, but all I hear is the echo of her text.

I feel light, almost giddy. I’m even in high spirits during the meeting, nodding along while my mind is miles away.

Then, another chime. A location message. A pin on a map, a café across the city.

The last message I sent was asking if we could meet. Filled with delight, I assume she has agreed. Hope, fierce and blinding, erupts in my chest.

I abruptly stand up from my swivel chair. The motion is so sudden the leather groans.

All the employees in the conference room turn their 2/10

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Chapter 343

Cassian’s POV

I have no way to contact Gemma these days. None. I have tried every possible way, and the result is always the same: a wall, digital and impenetrable. She has completely blocked me.

Adam suggested I should try transferring money, even though she had blocked me there too.

But I’ll do anything for a reaction. It’s a hollow, pathetic move, but it’s a thread connecting ushowever thin.

So, sitting at my desk, the city a grey smear outside the window, I open the banking app. My fingers feel clumsy.

I enter her number, an amount that means nothing, and a message that means everything: Can we talk?

I tap ‘transfer.‘ The app spins for a second, then confirms the money is sent. My breath catches. Now, I wait.

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An hour later, my phone chimes. Not a bank notification, a message. Her name glows on the screen.

essage.

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attention towards me.

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A senior manager, mid–sentence, falters. “Mr. Blackwell, is there any problem with the plan?”

My gaze sweeps over them, but I don’t see them. I only see the map pin. “No. Liam will follow up on the rest. Alright, dismissed,” I respond, my voice tighter than I intended.

I don’t wait for a reply. I push the door open and leave Blackwell Industries, my steps quick and buoyant. The drive is a blur. I park haphazardly, my eyes already scanning the café’s large glass window.

And I see them. Gemma and my aunt, Sibille, sitting at a table. The scene is tense, even from here. Then, I see it. Sibille’s arm swings, her hand connecting with Gemma’s face. A sickening, silent slap from this distance.

Startled, I stride in quickly, the cheerful bell on the door a grotesque contrast to the scene. Sibille sees me, and her face twists. She becomes even more annoyed. She stands up, her hand rising again to slap Gemma.

Butas Sibille’s hand lingers in the air, poised to strike po

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cross the final steps and firmly seize her wrist.

Have you had enough! I growl.

Sibille’s expression is stunned. Her mouth opens and

closes.

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My eyes are cold, and I shake her hand away forcefully, making her stagger back a step.

Cassian, I’m here to ask Gemma for the bracelets. It’s the Blackwell family’s heirloom. Since you’re divorced, she should return it! she explains, her voice shrill, trying to prove she is not the one at fault.

Grandpa gave them to her, I retort, the old discontent with my family boiling over. “Grandpa didn’t even ask her to return them. Why did you come here to ask for them?” I’ve seen how they treated her when I was away. The memory fuels my anger.

But they were your mother’s legacy! You divorced her, and she took so much money. Now she refuses to return the bracelets. Is she so greedy? Sibille spits, her eyes darting between us, convinced I am bewitched. 4/10

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Before I can answer, Gemma’s voice, calm and clear, cuts through the tension. “I’m sorry, but he may not have told you that I didn’t take a penny from the Blackwell family when we divorced.”

She states it as a simple fact. And she’s right. She didn’t take the bracelets, either. I know she left them at

Oakhaven.

A flicker of surprise crosses Sibille’s eyes. She hadn’t expected that. She lets out a small, shaky sigh of relief, her greed momentarily sated.

Cassian, I’m your aunt, she says, trying to reclaim the high ground, her voice softening into a wounded tone. “You shouldn’t have been so rude to me.”

I look at her, this woman who thrives on drama and make my tone as icy as I possibly can.

“You should not take advantage of your seniority.”

Gemma’s POV

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The moment Cassian appears, the air in the restaurant becomes unbreathable.

undoing.

My heart skips a beat, as if something fragile inside me has suddenly broken. The careful wall of indifference I’ve built crumbles into dust. I turn around suddenly and push him away, my hands flat against his chest.

Drop the act! I say, the words bursting forth, fueled by a feeling of being deeply aggrieved.

The humiliation from Sibille, the sticky discomfort of the juice, the sheer exhaustion of it all… it all boils over. “Don’t you know that I didn’t take anything away when I divorced you? If the bracelets are your family heirloom, you should have returned them to Grandpa so that Sibille wouldn’t have come to mess with me today. Cassian, I don’t deserve to be bullied by your family!”

I watch as my words land. His shoulders slump, the fight draining out of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he sounds tired. “I didn’t expect her to come to ask you for the bracelets.”

7silift, wiping at my nose with the back of my hand, 14:50

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The confrontation is over, but a new tension, thick and familiar, takes its place.

I stand up. I have to leave. I need space, and this room

has none.

The stain is not a bright blotch that is particularly obvious against my white outfit, but I don’t look back. I walk out, the bell on the door jingling a mocking farewell.

I hear his footsteps behind me, quick and determined, on the pavement.

Gemma.

I ignore him, walking faster. He catches up with me easily, his hand gently catching my elbow. I stop, but I don’t face him.

He doesn’t say a word. I feel him shift, then the weight and warmth of his wool coat as he wraps it around my waist, tying the sleeves in a firm/knot to cover the stain.

“Cover it up,” he says, his voice low.

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hapter 343

The gesture, so practical and yet so intimate, is my undoing.

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My heart skips a beat, as if something fragile inside me has suddenly broken. The careful wall of indifference I’ve built crumbles into dust. I turn around suddenly and push him away, my hands flat against his chest.

Drop the act! I say, the words bursting forth, fueled by a feeling of being deeply aggrieved.

The humiliation from Sibille, the sticky discomfort of the juice, the sheer exhaustion of it all… it all boils over. “Don’t you know that I didn’t take anything away when I divorced you? If the bracelets are your family heirloom, you should have returned them to Grandpa so that Sibille wouldn’t have come to mess with me today. Cassian, I don’t deserve to be bullied by your family!”

I watch as my words land. His shoulders slump, the fight draining out of him.

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