The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 407

Chapter 407

Gemma’s POV

The night of the anniversary party arrives, and the same morning, Mikhail sends his assistant to my apartment with a garment bag.

I’m just thinking about how obnoxious he is to not even allow time for a fitting or allow me to wear something of my own, but as I unzip the bag, the gown steals my breath.

A masterpiece of silk and embroidery that somehow translates a swirling, starry Van Gogh sky on the rich, silk fabric.

My composure lasts until we reach the hotel’s grand entrance. There, flanking the doors like a royal guard, is a life–sized, glossy portrait of me. My own face, smiling serenely back at me from a towering stand.

My lips part in pure shock. I turn to Mikhail. “Care to explain this?”

He just beams, utterly pleased with himself. “As head of Security, you’ve shielded this company. Consider this my tribute. You’re this year’s undisputed hero!”

“Please don’t,” I say, raising a hand as if to ward off the qompliment and the giant cardboard version of myself “Gelib2

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down. Now.”

Mikhail shakes his head, his grin unwavering. “Not a chance. Do you know how much that thing cost? It’s barely had its moment.”

Defeated, I follow him into the banquet hall.

It’s a cathedral of crystal and light, teeming with a glittering crowd. Faces I’ve only seen on magazine covers or cinema screens are here, holding flutes of champagne.

Zina appears at my elbow, waving a hand in front of my glazed eyes. “Hey. Earth to Gemma. Your celebrity crush hasn’t made his entrance yet, so you can stop scanning the room like a hawk.”

I blink, pulled from my daze. “How did you know who I was looking for?”

“I did my homework before you got here,” she says with a smug wink.

The thoughtful gesture warms me. “Thank you.”

I notice Jeremy beside her, his usual quiet watchfulness softened by what looks like relief. He must have been worried Zina’s star–gazing had a different target.

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My brief moment of peace shatters as I see Cassian entering the hall as well. But just then, Mikhail takes the stage, and the room hushes. He delivers a rousing, almost militant speech about loyalty and triumph, so fervent that I half–expect him to announce a corporate draft.

After a few minutes, he finally declares the party officially begun and jumps down, making a beeline for me, a fresh glass in hand.

“There’s a VIP in the cedar lounge,” he says, leaning in. “Very eager to make your acquaintance.”

I arch an eyebrow. “What sort of VIP?”

“The kind who writes very large checks. Interested in a brief

audience?”

The hint is unmistakable. A client for Moonlight!

I set my untouched orange juice on a passing tray. “Lead the way.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m shaking hands with Joe Wallace, a tech magnate.

“It’s an honor to partner with the esteemed Moonlight. Your protocols are understood. Discretion is guaranteed.”

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“I appreciate that, Mr. Wallace.” I hand him a simple, elegant card with only an encrypted email address. “My line is open for any preliminary questions.”

As Mikhail and I exit the hushed, wood–paneled lounge and re–enter the roar of the party, a sudden cramp twists my lower abdomen, making me gasp.

I press a hand to my stomach, the silk of my dress suddenly feeling too tight.

“Mikhail,” I say, my voice tight. “I need to find the restroom. Now.”

Cassian’s POV

Watching her walk away with Mikhail, with an easy compliance that I rarely saw during our marriage, sends a sharp prick of unease through me.

I know she works in cybersecurity at Dream international, but the hints I’ve gathered lately paint a picture of someone far more formidable than a mere department head.

Curiosity overrides etiquette at last, and I follow at a distance, lingering near the cedar lounge doors. When they emerge, it’s Joe Wallace who exits first, looking pleased.

“Mr. Blackwell! What a pleasant surprise.” 4/7

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I stop, forcing a polite smile. “Mr. Wallace.”

“It’s been too long. You know, I remember you were searching for a top–tier specialist to overhaul your corporate security. I may have just met your solution. Moonlight would be ideal.”

The name throws me. “Moonlight?”

I had always assumed the legendary hacker was Zina.

“Indeed. We just concluded our discussion. Though,” Joe adds, lowering his voice as he pulls out a business card, “given the history between Moonlight and yourself, collaboration might be… delicate.”

I take the card automatically. It’s sleek and minimal, but I hand it back, my voice tight. “No, thank you. I appreciate the thought.”

Joe retrieves the card, nodding as if my refusal confirms his theory. He claps a friendly hand on my shoulder. “Mr. Blackwell, a word of advice? Business is business. Don’t let personal history cloud professional judgment.”

I frown, bewildered. What personal history could I possibly have with Zina? Our only link is Gemma…

“Moonlight is in a league of her own internationally,” Joe

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continues, admiration in his tone. “A true artist. With your… prior relationship, you’re in a unique position to persuade her. Far better than the rest of us with our formal proposals.”

A cold trickle of understanding begins, a dreadful suspicion forming in the back of my mind.

The pieces aren’t fitting the way I’d assembled them.

I keep my voice even. “You’re right, of course. But given our… strained rapport, would you be willing to facilitate an introduction?”

Joe lets out a rich, knowing laugh. “Come now, Mr. Blackwell, don’t be modest. Who would know Moonlight’s contact information better than you? Even divorced, you must still have her number. The rest of us have to make do with these.”

He wiggles the business card between his fingers.

The word ‘divorced‘ hits me like a punch, pushing the air out of my lungs.

“Did you say… divorced?”

The question leaves my lips before I can stop it, my own confusion laid bare. Joe’s confident smile falters, replaced by uncertainty. “Yes…? You and Ms. Marino… you are divorced, aren’t you?”

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The world tilts on its axis.

Moonlight is Gemma…?

The realization blows me away as I bid goodbye to Joe and step towards the balcony. I need more than a few moments of peace to process this.

The woman I was married to for three years, the woman I thought I knew, was a living legend operating in a shadow world I never glimpsed at.

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