The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 390

Chapter 390

Cassian’s POV

The silence in the room stretches thin. I can feel the trap, the cleverly laid wires of obligation and history. “You should go. back,” I finally say.

Reyna, to her credit, doesn’t push. She knows she can’t. She came only to plant the seed, and the decision is now mine to wrestle with; her role is to wait.

“Alright,” she says, her voice regaining a composed softness. “Take your time to think it over. I won’t disturb you.”

She turns to leave but pauses at the threshold, a picture of contrived concern.

“I heard you didn’t come back last night… that you were at the hospital. So I brought you some cream of corn soup. I made it myself. If you like, you can have some.”

The door clicks shut behind her. A moment later, Emma appears, holding a sleek thermos, her expression caught between duty and distaste. “Mr. Blackwell, this…”

“Throw it away.”

The order is immediate. I see the relief flood Emma’s re 11:27

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before she masks it with a nod. “Right away, sir.”

She turns, and I can almost hear the next words she mumbles, “So he still has Ms. Marino in his heart!”

A rather simplistic conclusion, but not entirely wrong.

Once I’m alone in my study, I pick up the phone and dial Liam. His voice is harried when he answers. “Your timing is uncanny. I was just about to call you. Over the past few days, five partners have already moved to terminate their contracts.”

My grip tightens on the receiver. “Did you find out why?”

“I did. The reason they’re giving is consistent: we change personnel too frequently. They say they don’t want to work with new points of contact. It increases their perceived risk.”

A hot wave of anger rises in my chest. “That’s bullshit.” The curse escapes before I can stop it. Since when does internal staffing at Blackwell Industries dictate a third party’s contract? They’re doing business with the company, not with Reyna Campbell personally.

“I think it’s bullshit too,” Liam agrees, his frustration mirroring my own. “But I’ve used every argument I have, they won’t budge. I’m worried this is contagious. If the sentiment spreads, more will follow.”

2/7

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I pinch the bridge of my nose. A headache begins to pulse behind my eyes.

“Michael,” Liam continues, his tone turning speculative, “have we offended someone? It doesn’t track. If anyone should be holding a grudge, it’s us against others. Not the other way around.”

He’s right. We’ve always been the ones to walk away from unfavorable terms. No one has ever dared to turn us down, Moonlight being the only exception.

His next words are pragmatic and grim.

“Listen, we can’t exactly funnel resources from the airline to prop it up. And no matter how many funds we pull in, the most important thing is our reputation, which has taken a severe hit. We need a real solution. If you could persuade your grandpa…”

He doesn’t finish, we both know it’s a dead end.

Grandpa had made it clear on the day he handed over the company to me, that he wasn’t going to lift a finger to help me unless it was extremely urgent.

The path forward is narrow, but it exists. “Set up a meeting with them,” I instruct, my voice firming. “All of them. Face–to–face. Find out what their real conditions are. Just get them in a room.”

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“Okay,” Liam says, the relief at having a directive clear in his voice. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

I hang up and lean back in the leather chair. The helplessness is a familiar, bitter taste.

I’ve always known Reyna was capable. At school, at the company, her competence was never in doubt. But this?

Orchestrating a client rebellion because she’s not at the helm? It reeks of a different kind of skill… one of manipulation and cultivated dependence. The pieces don’t fit neatly, and the picture they form is unsettling.

My thoughts are a tangled knot of strategies and suspicions when the phone rings again. The caller ID flashes: Blackwell

Manor.

I answer. Simeon’s voice is strained, crackling with poor signal and panic. “Mr. Blackwell, there’s… there’s some bad news… leg was broken…..”

Static swallows half the words. “What?” I snap, leaning forward. “Say again.”

The signal clears for a moment. “…Sir Blackwell… in the garden just now… he broke his leg!”

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Chapter 390

The words punch the air from my lungs. Grandpa’s leg is

broken?

“I’m coming back right now!”

I sprint out of the study, down the stairs, and into my car, the engine roaring to life as the crisis takes first priority.

Gemma’s POV

Once I’m inside my apartment, I already start feeling much better.

I’ve barely sunk into the couch, letting the familiar walls soothe the hospital’s sterility from my skin, when my phone

vibrates.

Meredith’s name flashes.

“Gemma, I’m so sorry about last time. Antonios just called me, he said he can solve the matter you asked him about. How about we all have dinner together?”

Antonios?! Ah! The cyberbullying case, and the digital trail of Kitty and Lydia’s campaigns against me.

It feels like a bookmark from another era, one that ended yesterday in fire and handcuffs. With them both detained, the urgency had faded. 5/7

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But she’s right, the mess they made online still needs cleaning

1. up.

“Alright,” I say, the decision feeling distant. “I’ll head over now.”

As I hang up and reach for my bag, two pairs of disapproving eyes lock onto me. Zina crosses her arms. Jace just shakes his head. The silent judgment is louder than any protest. They just brought me home from the hospital. The idea of me going out alone, even for a dinner, is clearly unacceptable.

No argument is offered, no discussion is had.

Wordlessly, Zina grabs her car keys. Jace ushers Molly toward the door. I open my mouth to object, but a shared, stubborn look from them silences me.

We pile into the car, the same seats we occupied an hour ago. The city, which felt so welcoming on the drive home, now seems congested and obstructive. Zina taps the steering wheel, her frustration mounting with each red light.

“Why is it so jammed today?”

She grumbles, leaning on the horn, making it honk sharply.

6 Coin