The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 360

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Chapter 360(revised)

Gemma’s POV

Stepping out of the villa’s serene, rarefied air and back into the ordinary sunlight feels like returning from another planet. The staggering reality of the place still hums in my veins. Before

I can even process it, my phone vibrates with a new message from Meredith.

[Gemma, I’m hosting a small pool party at the estate this weekend. I’d love for you and your friends to join.]

I show the screen to Zina, who is still gazing back at the villa with a dazed look. Her eyes widen further, this time with panic.

“A pool party? No. Absolutely not. You remember the diving

incident! I sink like a stone wrapped in anxiety!”

“We can’t exactly refuse,” I point out, my own stomach fluttering at the thought of navigating Meredith’s social world. “She just handed us the keys to a palace. The least we can do is show up and thank her in person.”

Zina groans, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Ugh. You’re right. You’re always right about the polite thing to do. Fine. But I’m staying in the shallow end, and I’m not wearing anything remotely resembling a bikini.”

We’re halfway back to Urban Lane, the city slowly swallowing the memory of that quiet, gated street, when my phone rings again. The caller ID makes me sigh aloud. Mortland.

“Hello, Ms. Marino-” the overly bright voice begins.

“I’ve already secured a property,” I interrupt, my tone firmer than I intend. “Thank you, but I won’t be needing a viewing.” Before the spiel can continue, I end the call.

“Who was that?” Zina asks, glancing over from the driver’s seat.

“Mortland sales. Again.”

“Don’t they have other clients?” she muses, frowning. “They call you every single day. It’s weird.”

“Maybe the luxury market is crashing and they’re desperate,” I joke weakly, but the persistence is strange. No matter the economy, properties like Mortland don’t need to hound someone who openly admitted they couldn’t afford it.

“Whatever,” Zina shrugs. “You’ve got your fairy godmother’s villa now. They’ll give up eventually.”

The mention of the villa brings another thought to Zina’s mind. “Speaking of today why didn’t you ask Jace to come with us? His opinion on the space would have been useful.”

I shoot her a look, “What do you think?”

“Are you really that hung up on the fact he has feelings for you?” she presses, trying to sound light.

A bitter smile tugs at my lips. “I can’t just switch it off, Zina. It changes things.” The easy camaraderie, the uncomplicated support, it’s all tinted now with an expectation I can’t meet. It feels like losing a friend.

Zina reaches over and pats my shoulder. “I’m just saying, he’s a good guy. He’s been there for you, more than once. Don’t get hung up on the age thing.”

“Please, stop trying to play matchmaker,” I say, shaking my head. My own emotional landscape is still a barren wasteland. The idea of cultivating something new, especially with someone I used to see as a kid brother, feels impossible.

“If he knew you were sidelining him because you see him as a little brother, he would truly be crushed.”

Zina sighs, giving up for now.

“It’s not just that,” I murmur, looking out the window.

I’m a divorced woman with a tangled past and a hidden gregnancy. He’s brilliant, young, with his whole future blazing ahead. The last thing I want is to be the complication that dims that light.

Back at Urban Lane, we find Jace conducting Molly’s assessment. He’s seated at the main desk, his posture rigid, while Molly is a whirlwind of frantic energy at her laptop. The air crackles with tense focus.