The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 406

Chapter 406

Gemma’s POV

At this moment, Zina and Jace step away from the small crowd of dispersing observers, having witnessed the whole spectacle.

Only Molly is missing, tied up with classes.

Zina strides over, her sharp eyes missing nothing, and she catches the final exchange between Antonios and the other lawyer just as it concludes.

Antonios’s composure, so unshakeable in the courtroom, is fractured.

“Enough,” he says, the word clipped and final. “That’s buried history. Dragging it up here serves no purpose.”

The other man… his ex? Lets out a short, ugly laugh.

“You’re right. It is pointless. You’ll never figure out how to care about anything but a legal brief, will you? Condemned to be alone with your precious victories.”

With a last, scathing look, he turns on his heel and marches away, his folder clutched like a shield.

Zina’s eyes are wide. She shoots me a look and I can offer2

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a helpless shake of my head, a wave of secondhand awkwardness making me want to sink into the pavement.

Antonios doesn’t look at either of us. His professional mask is hastily reassembled, but the cracks are still visible.

“Ms. Marino, I have other appointments. Please don’t hesitate to contact my office if you require anything further.”

He’s moving down the broad courthouse steps before I can even say a ‘thank you’.

Zina waits until he’s out of earshot, then elbows me gently. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Okay. Wait. Is he… you know! Gay?”

She wags her eyebrows meaningfully.

“I think,” I say slowly, the pieces aligning, “maybe?”

But it feels reductive, a label slapped onto the complex, painful dynamic I just witnessed. It’s not my business to define their relationship.

Before Zina can launch into full speculation mode, her attention snags on another figure approaching, and her expression ices over in an instant.

Cassian is walking toward us and Zina plants herself slightly in front of me like an unofficial bodyguard.

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“What are you doing here?”

She demands, “You heard everything in there, right? This whole mess leads back to Reyna. Again. Bet you didn’t see that twist coming. You always were so quick to believe her little act. Even after the divorce, your precious Reyna just can’t leave Gemma alone.”

Cassian ignores Zina, his eyes finding mine. “Gemma, I had no idea she was involved in this.”

The statement is meant to be an assurance, but all it does is scratch at my old wounds.

“It doesn’t matter whether you knew or not.”

Looking back on those three hollow years, I know with absolute certainty: even if he had been presented with a dossier of Reyna’s schemes, he wouldn’t have done anything in time.

He would have questioned the source, demanded more proof, been blinded by his own sense of obligation or his distorted view of her.

His justice has always been too late. If not, then maybe my mother would still be alive.

see his hands curl into fists at his sides.

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“Don’t worry,” he grates out, the promise sounding more like a threat. “I’ll deal with Reyna. I’ll get answers-”

Zina snorts, unable to contain herself. “You’d better. And try not to go all soft and mushy the second she turns on the waterworks. We’ve all seen that movie before.”

Her bluntness is a slap. Cassian actually flinches, a flicker of genuine shame crossing his features.

I’ve had enough. The victory in court feels tarnished by all this personal fallout. I loop my arm through Zina’s, tugging her gently away.

“Let’s go!” I say, injecting a forced brightness into my tone. “We won. That calls for celebration. My treat.”

***

Later that evening, the digital world catches up with the day’s events. The woman, as ordered by the court, posts her final

tweet.

It’s a detailed, humiliating confession, laying out her campaign of slander and ending with a stark, formal apology to me.

I simply retweet the court’s official verdict document without saying anything, letting the facts speak for themselves.

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The online tide, so often fickle and cruel, turns with startling speed. The combination of legal authority and a public mea culpa is potent.

[I knew it! Gemma is way too elegant to be that sort of person. A lot of men online just have deeply rooted misogyny. They see a beautiful, successful woman and immediately assume the worst.]

[When will men stop having collective meltdowns because a gorgeous woman exists independently of them?]

[Gemma is literally stunning. Has she ever considered acting? And didn’t someone say she was connected to Moonlight’s team? Is Moonlight that gorgeous too? Now I’m dying to see Moonlight reveal themselves!]

Zina, sprawled on my couch with her phone, reads the comments aloud with glee. “Gemma, half the internet now wants to see your face. Can you imagine the chaos if they knew you were Moonlight?”

I offer a wry smile. “They’ll never know.”

It’s a rule, enforced not by law but by reputation. Every client signs an NDA, and while the document is legally a little flimsy, the understanding is clear: cross me, and the consequences will be delivered outside of court.

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No one has ever been foolish enough to test it.

My phone buzzes.

“You’re quite the trending topic today!”

Mikhail‘ voice, warm with amusement, comes through the speaker.

I can’t help but smirk. “Same to you?”

I have seen the business news. He just landed a deal colossal enough to single–handedly meet his company’s annual target.

We’re both having a good day.

“The company anniversary gala is next week,” he says, his tone turning casual. “Any interest in attending?”

I pause. I know he’s leaving for his overseas surgery soon. This feels like a pre–departure celebration. “Who usually shows up to these things?”

“Mostly internal staff. And the artists currently under contract with us.”

Artists?

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“Sure, I’ll attend.”

Mikhail sounds pleasantly surprised. “Really? I didn’t peg you as a corporate gala enthusiast.”

I just smile, even though he can’t see it. “There’s a first time for everything.”

***

Zina, defying her usual habit of retreating to Glory Villa, has commandeered my couch for a TV marathon. The drama features the current breakout star, an actor whose name is everywhere.

“Gemma,” Zina says, grabbing a handful of popcorn, her eyes on me instead of the screen. “Since when do you watch fluffy romance dramas?”

I don’t look away from the screen where the male lead is delivering a particularly soulful monologue.

“Who doesn’t appreciate an aesthetically pleasing face?”

My eyes might be twinkling a little. It’s been years… since middle school, maybe? Since I felt the silly, harmless pull of a celebrity crush.

Zina connects dots with terrifying speed. “Gemma. You’re not… 7/9

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actually interested in this actor, are you?”

I take a deliberate, crisp bite of my apple. “Maybe a little.”

I noticed him when the drama first exploded in popularity. A deep dive revealed a surprisingly dedicated professional. Not just a pretty face, but someone known for intense preparation and genre versatility.

A rare find in the industry.

“If I remember right,” Zina says slowly, “he’s signed with

Dream Entertainment.”

I just nod, returning my gaze to the television, a small, secretive smile playing on my lips.

Zina lets out a triumphant laugh, the pieces clicking together. “Oh! I get it now! No wonder you agreed to Mikhail’s stuffy party so fast. It’s a stakeout! You’re going to see your new favorite star in the wild!”

I don’t deny it. I just keep smiling, watching the handsome face on the screen. Why wouldn’t I seize the chance for a little harmless, real–life viewing?

Everyone needs a distraction in life, and mine happens to have very good cheekbones.

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