The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 349

Chapter 349

Gemma’s POV

The name Bernard hangs in the opulent private room, charged with a history I only know from whispers and financial news digests. Mikhail remains unflappable, his gaze steady on our unexpected guest.

Meredith’s family relocated their base to Nuving over two decades ago, Mikhail explains, his voice a calm, grounding force. “They are well–known financial tycoons there. And Ms. Bernard herself has built a formidable reputation as a financier in her own right.”

I listen, unable to suppress a surge of admiration. This is the kind of woman I aspire to be–self–made, powerful, her career a fortress of her own design. She doesn’t just occupy space; she commands it.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bernard, I say, keeping my voice even. “I’m Moonlight.” In our world, real names are liabilities. A flicker of understanding passes in Meredith’s eyes, and she offers a gracious nod. The alias is accepted. 1/8

14:53

The meal itself is surprisingly harmonious, the conversation skimming the surface of business and Nuving’s economic landscape. As the plates are cleared, Meredith turns to me, her smile persuasive. “I haven’t been back here for a long time. My wardrobe is entirely unsuitable. I wonder if you’d have time to accompany me shopping? We can discuss the specifics of our cooperation then.”

If it were just the shopping, I would have crafted a polite refusal instantly. But she tacks on the mention of business, a deliberate hook I cannot ignore. Throughout the entire dinner, the details of the project remained a vague promise. Now, it’s the bait.

I won’t follow you two around a mall, Mikhail states flatly, already rising from his seat. He has the distinct air of a man who would rather face a firing squad than a lingerie department. With a brief nod, he departs, leaving me alone with the formidable Meredith Bernard.

In the gleaming, cavernous mall, we drift through women’s clothing stores that feel more like art galleries. Meredith runs a hand over a silk blouse. “Moonlight, if you don’t mind my asking, you must be quite young?” 2/8

14:53

I’m twenty–six, I reply. The number feels both insignificant and weighted. Twenty–six. Sponsored through college by Admas, married off to Cassian the moment I had my degree. My life has been a series of transactions, not choices.

Twenty–six… Meredith murmurs, a distant look softening her sharp features. A small, sad smile touches her lips. “If my sister were still with us, she would be twenty–six this year, too.”

The confession catches me off guard. “You have a younger sister?” I’d never heard that the Bernard lineage included a second daughter.

She was taken away by her mother shortly after she was born. I’ve never even held her. Her voice is wistful. “I’ve been searching for her all these years, but it’s as if she vanished into thin air.”

I know the story, or at least, the version that leaked onto the dark web forums where I sometimes lurk. The head of the Bernard family had a brief, consequential affair with a woman provided by a business partner. A pregnancy resulted. The Bernards, obsessed with bloodline, wanted thechild. But the woman, who supposedly had family:53

her own, fled, demonstrating a remarkable talent for evading one of the most powerful families on the planet.

Ms. Bernard, forgive my bluntness, I venture carefully, “but if the rumors are true, I’d assumed your family would… resent that child.” An illegitimate daughter, a stain on their pristine legacy.

Meredith shakes her head, a firm, decisive motion. “No. The child is entirely innocent. My father never blamed her. She had no say in her own creation.” Her defense is immediate and fierce.

I’m taken aback. I had painted the Bernards with the same brush I use for the Blackwells–all cold calculation and dynastic pride. This nuance is unexpected.

Well, let’s not dwell on such unhappy matters, she says, her tone brightening artificially as she holds up a dress of breathtaking simplicity and equally breathtaking cost. “You’re the same age my sister would be. Let me buy this for you.”

I’m genuinely flustered. “Thank you, Ms. Bernard, that’s far too generous. Please, you don’t have to.”

4/8

14:53

Her eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, they seem to shimmer with a profound, practiced sadness. “Please. Think of it as me making up for never being able to protect my sister. It’s just a piece of clothing.”

The plea is layered, manipulative, and utterly effective. I don’t know how to refuse without seeming churlish. The price tag on the dress is a number that could cover my studio’s rent for months. I would never consider it. But under the weight of her story and her insistence, I find myself being ushered toward the changing room.

As I slip the expensive fabric over my shoulders, I steer the conversation back to safer, professional ground. “Ms. Bernard, what exactly does this project entail? Mikhail was light on details.”

The financial systems in Nuving, she begins, her voice dropping to a more conspiratorial level. “We’re facing sustained, malicious attacks aimed at stealing core business secrets.”

So you need me to build a stronger defensive shield? I

assume.

56 my surprise, she shakes her head, a ruthless int in:53

her eyes. “No. Defending is for the timid. I want a direct counterattack. I want you to breach their system, plant a virus of your own, and give them a taste of their own medicine. I want them crippled.”

I stare at her, reassessing my initial admiration. This is not just a financier; this is a warlord. “That’s… not a conservative approach.”

The best my team at Nuving can do is reinforce the walls, she states dismissively. “It’s a stopgap. I don’t want to be patching holes every other week. If we’re doing this, we do it once, and we do it permanently. I want them too afraid to ever try again.”

A slow smile spreads across my face. This is a language I understand. This is a challenge. “I can take the project,” I say, my mind already whirring with possibilities. “But I’ll need to assemble a small team. And I won’t be going to Nuving. I’ll work remotely.”

It’s a significant demand; hacking a foreign corporation’s system from another country adds layers of complexity. But I am Moonlight. And more pressingly, I am pregnant. I have no intention of traveling.

6/8

14:53

Meredith doesn’t even blink. “As long as the job is finished, I don’t care if you’re working from the moon.”

Then we have a deal, I say, my tone shifting into the crisp, confident one I use for negotiations. “And my fee will be forty times the market rate for a standard security audit.”

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