The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 393

Chapter 393

Gemma’s POV

The door to the private room swings inward, and a wave of expectant faces turns toward me.

I feel my embarrassment tickling me at the back of my neck. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Meredith, seated at the head of a round table, smiles warmly and waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry! There’s nothing critical today. Come, sit. The food isn’t all here yet.”

I slip into the empty chair she indicates, surprised. I was at the manor for over an hour. The restaurant’s timing feels like a small miracle, granting me a grace period.

No sooner have I settled than Antonios pushes a neat, thick folder across the white tablecloth toward me. “Ms. Marino. I have gathered more than sufficient evidence. Even with Maya and her associate detained, we can still proceed to clear your name publicly online, if you wish.”

Meredith nods, adding, “And we can hold the accounts that actively spread and commented on the false rumors accountable as well.”

The netizens… I hadn’t considered pursuing them. My instinct has always been that most people online are just spectators,

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swept up in a wave of gossip, not driven by personal malice.

They’re curious, not cruel.

“Did some people comment and spread the rumors excessively?”

“Yes,” Antonios confirms, lapping the folder. “During my investigation, one user in particular stood out. They can be considered your… ultimate anti–fan.”

The term sounds strange, applied to my context. “My hater? I’m not a celebrity.”

“I saved screenshots of the most egregious comments at the end of the document. You can take a look.”

I open the folder, flipping past pages of data and legal summaries to the final sheets.

There, printed in stark black and white, is a username and a torrent of vitriol. This person didn’t just comment, they provoked and inflamed the entire comments section.

I have a feeling it’s someone I know, simply because having such hatred for a stranger is totally unnatural.

Zina, leaning over my shoulder, lets out a low hiss. “Who is this person? How can they say such things?” Her finger stabs at one line. “They even said you were…

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She can’t finish. The accusation is that I was a prostitute. The rest of the comments weave a complicated and completely fictional story about my life after twenty.

“Ms. Marino,” Antonios says, his voice tight with indignation, “do you want to pursue this legally?”

The question crystallizes my resolve. “Yes. We must hold this person accountable. People can’t just say such things online without consequences.”

I close the file and look directly at Antonios. “What’s the chance of success?”

I have no energy for a symbolic, losing battle.

“One hundred percent.”

His answer is so absolute it silences the table for a moment. We all stare. I’ve never heard a lawyer speak with such unchecked confidence.

Zina voices the collective doubt. “Even if the other side hires a great lawyer? Still one hundred percent?”

Antonios’s smile is small, certain. “No matter who they hire, we will win.”

A genuine sense of relief, the first in a long time, washes through

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1. me. “Then I leave this to you, Voss. Send a lawyer’s letter. If you need this person’s real identity, I can find out.” It’s a simple task for a skilled hacker.

As we’ve been talking, waiters have been gliding in and out, laying out exquisite dishes. Meredith beams as the last plate is set down. “Let’s eat! The food is all here.”

We pick up our chopsticks, but Antonios holds up a hand. “Two more people haven’t arrived yet.”

Meredith frowns, perplexed. “Who else?” She clearly didn’t extend any other invitations.

Antonios just smiles as the door opens again. “Here they are.”

We all look up. Harry and Nancy walk in together.

Meredith’s eyes widen. “What are you doing here?”

She demands, her tone a mix of surprise and mild exasperation.

Harry grins, utterly unrepentant. “I’m on vacation and haven’t

home yet. You didn’t invite me to dinner? It breaks my gone heart.”

Nancy slides into the seat beside Antonios with a murmured, “Sorry, I’m late.” Then she turns to me, her concern seeming genuine. “Ms. Marino, are you feeling better?”

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“I’m fine now, thank you,” I reply

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Harry plops down next to Meredith, but his attention is fixed on me. It’s an intense gaze that even Zina notices. She leans close, her whisper tickling my ear. “Why is Harry staring at you like that?”

“How would I know?”

“Ms. Marino,” Harry announces, standing suddenly. “I am Harry Klein, Meredith’s nephew. This is our second meeting. Do you remember me?”

He picks up his wine glass, moving to offer a toast.

Before he can take a sip, Meredith reaches over and smacks his back. “Gemma can’t drink!”

She scolds, clearly mortified.

“Sorry, sorry! I forgot!” Harry laughs, undeterred. “Ms. Marino, you can drink water, juice, or coffee to honour my toast!”

Despite the odd intensity, I can see he means well.

“Alright, sit down, you silly boy!” Meredith orders, pressing him back into his chair.

Across the table, Jace watches the exchange, but I can see his assessment of him, too: Harry seems impulsive and boyish.

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His fascination likely lacks depth or endurance.

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“Ms. Marino,” Harry continues, blissfully oblivious to Jace’s glare, “you look familiar. Like I’ve known you before. Do you feel the same?”

Meredith shakes her head, sighing in helpless embarrassment. Normally, this kind of line would make me cringe. But with Harry, it feels oddly earnest, not slick.

“Yeah,” I admit quietly. “I do.”

His face lights up with pure delight. “I knew it! We must be fated to meet.” His cheer is usually boundless, but this focused warmth toward a near–stranger is new.

Beside him, Nancy watches, her smile for the rest of the table not quite reaching her eyes when she glances at Harry. Her feelings are a complicated, silent storm. “Harry, knock it off,” she says sharply, her tone biting. “You look creepy. You’ll scare Ms. Marino.” She glares at him, then pointedly looks away.

Harry just blinks, genuinely confused by her reaction. For the rest of the meal, Nancy is all polite smiles for everyone else, but her demeanor toward him is frosty. Harry spends the latter half of the dinner looking utterly lost and helpless.

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