The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 394

Chapter 394

Harry’s POV

I spot Nancy heading for the elevators, her shoulders stiff. I jog a few steps to catch up. “Nancy, what are you upset about again?”

She whirls on me. “Again? Do I always get mad at you? Do you not know what you did?”

Her voice is filled with irritation. I stop short, caught off guard. “I don’t know?”

I say, my own brow furrowing in confusion. She crosses her arms. “Do you like Ms. Marino?”

That’s where her mind went? The question is so unexpected that it leaves me speechless for a second.

But she gathers my answer from my silence.

“I knew it,” she says with a bitter triumph in her tone. “You never act this eager in front of others. Today, you were practically jumping with excitement. Can you deny that you like her?”

“No, no…” The words feel clumsy. This isn’t the track she’s on. I reach out, gently catching her wrist. “It’s not what y think.

B

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She scoffs, pulling her arm back. “You men always say that. If it’s not what I think, then what is it? Is Gemma your long–lost half–sister or something?“.

“I told you to read fewer romance novels…”

“Don’t change the subject!”

She fires back, not letting me off the hook. I raise my hands in

surrender.

“Alright, alright. I’ll tell you why. But come with me. I don’t want anyone else to know.”

This isn’t gossip, it’s a potential earthquake.

She eyes me with suspicion, before giving a curt nod. “You better have a good reason. Or you’ll be in trouble.”

I lead her to a secluded corner near the restrooms, where the hum of the kitchen vent drowns our voices. I glance around once more before leaning in. “It’s about Gemma and the Miller family…”

I say, keeping my voice low. Her eyes go wide. “What? You said Gemma is… mmph!”

My hand flies to cover her mouth before she can blurt it out.

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< Chapter 394

“Shh! Don’t let anyone know!”

She glares at me over my fingers, but she understands. She nods. I slowly lower my hand.

„GAMS NOÃ AIF

She whispers, her anger replaced by stunned disbelief.

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MG SYUSZI FRU i de durm LEM, “Jupe 1 “Yanna Jox

my gut says I’m right.”

SKY PUNB MOÀ “Cash, Supra puņu ray suədəep umOH SÄDUBN pun “``sul nod pynod Moj surad quamĮ KAMO JOJ SuissYM UDIQ

her like this? Couldn’t it be a mistake?”

Duressers auf Suyquoy s eys Wunuð Zuyquop jou SEYS

odds

JUZI NIM SYNSQL cyl Shays 1 SMOWY OUM-

She relents, but I can see the worry still etched on her five

COPYRAM APOĽČWOO w ay not synnyn ennurag prenje noh z wQIY,

You were so intense with her. If you’re wrong, it’s going to be beyond awkward.”

PAY I UNYI JUGPywoo arom “wao u no ARM Į

“How so? Gemma is nice. Even if she’s not my aunt, we can still 3/9

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be friends.”

Nancy lets out a laugh of disbelief.

“That,” she says, poking me in the chest, “depends entirely on whether she wants to be friends with you after all that staring.”

Gemma’s POV

The city lights streak past the car window, signalling we are almost home when a brightly lit storefront catches my eye.

A little cake shop with a cheerful striped awning.

“Zina, stop the car.”

She startles, her foot jamming the brake a little too hard. We all lurch forward. “What’s wrong?”

She asks, her voice edged with alarm. I point sheepishly out of the window. “I want to go buy a cake.”

Zina and Jace exchange a quick, bewildered look. I rarely make spontaneous requests like this, and they probably thought it was some emergency instead of indulgence.

After a beat, Zina just shrugs. “Okay…?”

I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Do you guys want anything?”

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Zina and Jace shake their heads in unison. Not their thing. I turn to Molly in the back. “What about you?”

Her voice is barely a whisper. “Can I… have a strawberry cake?”

She looks so hesitant, like she’s asking for a diamond.

It makes me smile. “Of course. No need to be shy.”

The bell on the shop door tinkles as I step inside. The warm, sweet smell of sugar and butter wraps around me. My heart sinks a little.

There’s a line!?

And in the display case, I see only two perfect strawberry cakes left, topped with glossy red berries. I take my place at the back, sending a silent plea into the universe that no one ahead of me wants them.

I’m almost at the counter when a small figure darts from the side and plants himself directly in front of me.

“I want two strawberry cakes!”

The boy announces loudly to the salesgirl.

I freeze. The brazen rudeness of it is astounding.

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The flustered salesgirl, assuming, we’re together, reaches for the cakes, “Wait. Excuse me? I was here first.”

She stops, her cheeks flushing, She looks from the boy’s defiant posture to my steady gaze. “Miss,” she says, her voice placxting, “how about letting the little boy have them? We can offer you a discount on another cake?

“I just want the strawberry cake. Even if it were free, I wouldn’t take something else.”

Being young doesn’t grant you a pass to be entitled

But I try to reason, placing a light hand on the boy’s shoulder Hey, whether you’re an adult or a kid, you have to wait your turn to buy things. The people behind me waited. You have to follow the rules, okay?”

He turns, and I finally see his face.

My breath hitches. It’s the boy I saw with Cassian that day in the plaza.

The boy looks up at me with an expression of arrogance. He smirks, “I have a lot of money. I can buy as many as I want Why are you trying to take them from me?”

The words are so perfectly, obmoniously spoiled. Of course

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With Cassian’s influence, this is exactly the kind of child he would raise.

A murmur of disapproval ripples through the line behind us.

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