The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 400

Chapter 400

Gemma’s POV

Mr. Smith gathers all his strength to tell me about Mikhail’s older brother, wounded on some distant battlefield by a grenade.

Not a direct hit, but close enough. Mr. Smith describes him being brought back to the field hospital, deafened, his body riddled with shrapnel.

He lasted less than three hours.

“It was Mikhail who pulled out the oxygen tube with his own hands,” Mr. Smith whispers, the ventilator hissing in punctuation. “He was still underage, but in my absence, he was the next of kin. The one who had to make the… decision.”

The thought of a young boy, watching his brother die in agony… it’s horrifying.

That deep trauma explains so much about Mikhail’s controlled, isolated world. Mr. Smith’s

becomes painfully clear.

Casoning

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“I didn’t want him to go through the pain of losing another loved one.”

“I had planned to undergo treatment in the Nassau Islands,” he continues, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “According to the original plan, my condition wouldn’t have deteriorated this quickly.”

A grim, helpless smile touches his cracked lips. “But fate always seems to be a step ahead.”

The tumor is advanced, the local hospitals were inadequate, and coming home to this secret, urgent surgery was his only remaining move.

I’m reeling, searching for any words to express my feelings appropriately.

“Moonlight… Next week, Mikhail must leave. He cannot stay in the country any longer.”

It’s not just for Mikhail’s own scheduled procedure, it’s for Mr. Smith’s. I remember the dates in the chart.

“Your surgery is also next week,” I say slowly, the awful strategy dawning on me. “Are you planning to start it while Mikhail is in the air?”

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Once Mikhail’s plane takes off, he’ll be in a communications blackout, utterly unreachable.

Mr. Smith nods, and I notice his exhaustion.

“I’ve made arrangements in Florisdale. As long as the information is controlled, he won’t know about my passing…”

His voice trails off. Even if he finds out later, it will be after his own surgery is over. The cold, surgical precision of the plan takes my breath away.

“Haven’t you considered the possibility of your surgery being successful?”

The question is desperate, a grasp for hope.

Mr. Smith’s smile is a ghost of his former self, weighed down by the apparatus helping him breathe.

“Success is always the best outcome. But I always like to have a backup plan.”

A backup plan for his own death?

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The helplessness washes over me, pulling me under. Why do loved ones always have to go through such separations?

He is already looking tired, the effort of the conversation and the long, risky flight is taking its toll on him. He even signed a waiver for the airline, he tells me, absolving them if he died mid–flight.

The macabre detail only highlights his utter solitude.

“Moonlight,” he rasps, his hand trembling slightly on the sheet. “Before I go into the operating room… there is one last thing.”

My throat is too tight. “Please. Go ahead.”

“Accompany Mikhail to Florisdale. At least until his surgery is over.”

His eyes are pleading.

Seeing my hesitation, he adds, “Don’t worry. Once it’s done, I’ll give you a check. And shares in Dream International.”

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My disbelief is evident on his face. He’s giving me shares

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in Dream International?

“Ahem… Moonlight,” he struggles, his eyelids fluttering. “Mikhail doesn’t have many friends. His former comrades were his world. Now… you’re the only one he doesn’t reject. You are his only friend here. I trust only you.”

Though I don’t understand why that trust has fallen to me, I cannot refuse a dying man’s wish. “I will accompany Mikhail to Florisdale. Mr. Smith, believe that your

surgery will be successful. You and Mikhail will have the chance to meet again!”

I’m not sure he hears the last part, but he hears the agreement. A peaceful smile relaxes his features, and his hand goes slack, just as a doctor enters, ushering me out so the patient can rest.

I leave the hospital in a daze. How do I face Mikhail? If Mr. Smith’s surgery fails, Mikhail will be in a foreign country, recovering from his own operation, only to learn his father is already gone.

No final words, no chance to say goodbye… not even ashes to hold.

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Why do these dilemmas always fall on me? I want to

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scream, but end up running my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots.

I freeze when I see the newcomers. Mikhail and Liam, walking into the hospital’s main entrance.

My heart seizes. I want to melt into the wall, to disappear… but it’s too late.

Mikhail’s eyes find me. “Gemma? What are you doing here?”

My brain short–circuits. “Just… a routine check–up.”

I stammer, the lie brittle and obvious. A cold shiver runs down my spine.

He seems to accept it, or decides not to press. He glances at Liam, who is leaning heavily on him, his face pale.

“Can you help me support him for a moment? I need to go register.”

Before I can process the request, Mikhail has transferred Liam’s weight onto me. I stagger slightly, my arms looping instinctively around Liam’s torso to steady him:55

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Liam lets out a sharp yelp. “Ow! Easy, easy!”

I notice then that he’s been cradling his left arm awkwardly against his chest. “Did you… break something?”

I ask, bewildered. He seemed perfectly fine earlier. Liam just ducks his head, a flush of embarrassment staining his cheeks.

Mikhail returns with a registration slip. “Alright, let’s head upstairs.” He takes Liam’s other side.

“What’s wrong with him?”

I ask as we shuffle toward the elevators.

“He came with me for a boxing session,” Mikhail explains, his tone dry. “Didn’t warm up properly and dislocated his shoulder.”

I’m speechless. Are they teenagers?

“Okay, okay, enough,” Liam groans. “Please, spare me.”

He looks like he wishes the ground would swallow him:55

whole.

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They get on the elevator, and I turn and walk quickly out of the hospital.

My phone buzzes as I reach my car with a message from William. It’s a screenshot of a movie ticket.

[Ms. Marino, I hope you can grace me with presence.]

your

It’s a film by my favorite director, a special re–release.

Before I can even think of a reply, I check the cinema app. The showing is almost sold out. Acting on pure instinct, I quickly buy the last three tickets: for Zina, Jace, and Molly, then text William back.

[It would be my pleasure.]

Almost instantly, I send the screenshot of my ticket purchase: [Tonight, 7:30 PM. See you at the cinema. William’s treat.]

The mention of William’s name acts like a starter’s pistol. I can practically feel the collective focus sharpen through the phone, my team is going into mission mode.

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I meet William at the cinema entrance. He’s dressed differently today, in sleek athletic wear, which softens his usual sharp edges.

The movie is a late afternoon showing, and we are about twenty minutes early.

“How about we sit at the cafe for a while?”

I suggest, nodding to the place next door. I need to keep an eye out for my backup.

William smiles. “Sure.”

We find a table by the window. I choose the seat with a clear view of the cinema doors.

“What would you like to drink, Ms. Marino?”

“Just a glass of lemon water, thank you,” I say, looking up

at him.

As he goes to the counter, I pull out my phone and text Zina.

[Status?]

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[Don’t worry, we’re in position!]

They have arrived early but are lying low, planning to slip in after the movie starts.

Then another message from Zina pings through.‘

[Where’s Mikhail?]

The question is like a splash of cold water. In the whirlwind of Mr. Smith’s confession and William’s invitation, I’d completely forgotten about Mikhail.

I can’t involve him now. Especially with Mr. Smith’s secret sitting like a stone in my chest, interacting with Mikhail feels like walking a tightrope over a chasm.

I type back quickly.

[Let’s just leave him out of this.]