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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< Chapter 390

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.”

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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.

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