The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 357

Chapter 357 (revised)

Gemma’s POV

The quiet of my apartment is a welcome blanket after the emotional whiplash of the day–Cassian’s unexpected appearance, the tense coffee with Antonios, the fraught dinner with Meredith. I’m just settling in when my phone rings again, an unknown number flashing on the screen.

“Ms. Marino? This is Leo from the Mortland sales department. We spoke yesterday? I was just confirming if you’d still like to schedule a viewing.”

A flicker of embarrassment heats my cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” I say, my tone genuinely apologetic. “It’s been a hectic day, it completely slipped my mind.”

“No trouble at all,” he replies, his voice unnervingly cheerful. “Our promotional period is still ongoing for a few more days. If you’re free tomorrow, we’d be delighted to host you.”

I murmur a non–committal, “If I decide to come, I’ll let you know,” and hang up, the interaction leaving me vaguely unsettled. Salespeople are persistent, I know that. But for a property as exclusive as Mortland, where units sell themselves, this level of eager follow–up feels… excessive. I was brutally honest about my financial limitations. Why is he still hasing 06 me?

“Everything alright?” Meredith asks from where she’s perusing my bookshelf. Her sharp eyes miss little.

“It’s nothing,” I reply, slipping the phone into my pocket. “Just the sales agent from Mortland, following up about a viewing.”

“Mortland?” Meredith turns, a note of surprise in her voice. “Are you looking to buy?”

“I’m looking for a permanent studio space,” I explain. “And Mortland’s location is ideal. But the price point is… prohibitive. for me right now.” There’s no point in hiding the truth from her.

Meredith considers this for a moment, tilting her head. “If location is your primary concern, and you wouldn’t mind a pre–existing space, I happen to have a property downtown that’s sitting empty.”

I’m taken aback. “Ms. Bernard, that’s too generous. It would be an imposition.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “The Bernard family retains several properties here. It’s a waste to have them vacant. If you have a use for it, you’re welcome to take a look. Consider it a practical solution, not a favor.”

The offer is staggering in its simplicity. “I… I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll look at it tomorrow,” she says with a small, decisive smile. “Then you can decide. No pressure.”

I can only nod in agreement, my planned trip to Mortland postponed once again. It feels like the universe is gently steering me away from that particular cliff edge.

Meredith drops me off at the entrance to Urban Lane, the sleek car idling but not entering the compound. I offer my thanks and begin the short walk to my building, the evening air cool against my skin. I’m halfway across the courtyard when I see them.

Two figures, hunched and furtive, lurking near the base of my apartment stairwell. My steps slow. A familiar dread coils in my stomach. As I get closer, their identities become clear, even from behind.

A disbelieving laugh escapes me. The entitlement is staggering. “You dare to order me? And for the record, Cassian and I are divorced. He fired her. He is demanding repayment. It has nothing to do with me.”

They’ve been so wrapped up in their own financial panic they’ve dismissed the divorce news as tabloid gossip. Seeing the cold, unflinching truth on my face, Lydia’s bluster deflates. The color drains from her cheeks. If I have no sway with Cassian, then they have absolutely nothing.

“Gemma, have you lost your mind?” she whispers, horrified. “Why would you divorce him?”

I don’t answer. I don’t owe them an explanation for reclaiming my own life. My silence seems to finalize the reality for them. A look of pure, panicked despair passes between mother and daughter. I am no longer their lifeline.

As I move toward the stairs, they scramble after me. Just as I reach my door and push it open, Lydia’s hand shoots out, gripping the edge, preventing me from closing it. Kitty stands behind her, a silent, desperate blockade.

“Gemma, please,” Lydia’s voice shifts to a wheedling, pathetic plea. “You’re the only one who can help us. I’m begging you. Go to him. Even divorced, you shared a bed. He won’t refuse you! 576

I am not as physically strong as Lydia, and with Kitty there, I’m outnumbered. Their desperation is turning aggressive. With my free hand, I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. “If you don’t let go of my door and leave right now,” I say, my voice lethally calm, “I am calling the police.”

Lydia stares at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fury and utter disbelief. “We are your family!” she shrieks, as if this is the ultimate, unassailable defense. “How could you call the police on your own family?”

The word ‘family‘ has never tasted so bitter. I simply look at her, my finger poised over the call button, the threat hanging in the air between us, more real than any blood tie.