The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 408

Chapter 408

Cassian’s POV

The cool night air on the balcony does nothing to settle the storm in my head. Joe’s parting words are on a loop, shredding my old, certain reality. Moonlight is Gemma. The equation is impossible, yet the proof is mounting, and I’ve been willfully blind to it.

I turn the facts over like jagged stones. My own failed scheme to unmask Moonlight-I was so sure it pointed to Zina.

But Gemma was there that day, a quiet, observant presence.

The deference Zina and Jace showed her at the police station wasn’t just friendship; it was the respect of acolytes to a master. And a memory rises to the surface, sharp and sudden, of the book I’d seen on her nightstand years ago.

The dense, incomprehensible tome on cryptographic protocols was filled with her precise, meticulous notes in thegmargins.

And you don’t annotate a text you don’t understand.

I pull out my phone, my fingers clumsy. I search for the book’s title. The results are sparse, reviews complaining about its brutal complexity and tough- to- understand language..

There is one comment that catches my eye: [This isn’t for hobbyists. I have a CS doctorate and this made my head spin. How is this even in print?]

Another says: [Bought this as a challenge. Lasted three pages. Felt like my ‘A’ in high school calculus meant nothing.]

The logic is inescapable, a trap closing around my former ignorance. Gemma, my wife… my ex-wife, is Moonlight.

Just then, a heavy hand claps down on my shoulder, jolting me back to the present.

Liam.

“There you are. You’re brooding out here while your ex-wife is in there, dancing with another man.” He nods toward the glittering ballroom.

My gaze follows his. Through the glass doors, I see them. Gemma, a swirl of Van Gogh stars, is in Mikhail’s arms, moving to a slow song. A faint, genuine smile touches her lips as she says something to him. Something cold and possessive tightens in my chest.

I take a step forward, instinct taking over.

Liam’s grip on my shoulder firms. “Hold on. Before you go charging in, I need to ask you something.” His tone is uncharacteristically serious.

“Make it quick.” My eyes haven’t left them.

“Cassian.” He uses my full name, demanding my attention. “We’ve known each other a long time. I need you to be honest with me. What are you really feeling for Gemma right now?”

The question is a bucket of cold water. I turn to him, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your motivation.” Liam’s gaze is direct, ngomfortably so. “I know you. You’ve never had anything you truly wanted slip through your fingers. Until her. Her leaving, filing for divorce-it was a blow to your pride. Is that what this is? A campaign to win back what you see as a lost possession?”

He’s voicing a suspicion I’ve refused to examine. I’ve watched my own obsession, felt the burning need to close the distance she created. But labeling it as mere pride feels too shallow, yet somehow terrifyingly plausible.

“It’s not that I don’t want to let her go,” I say finally, the admission pulled from a deep, conflicted place.

Liam, still irritated, straightens. “Are you sure?”

I nod, the movement stiff. “Yes. I want her to be happy.” It’s the truth. It’s why I signed the papers. I couldn’t stand the sight of her misery, chained to me. Setting her free was the only unselfish thing I knew how to do.

But the rest is true, too. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life without her.” So I’ve been trying to bridge the chasm, to learn the steps to a dance she already knows. I’ve always been slow in matters of the heart, perpetually gut of rhythm with her. Now, I’m scrambling to catch ung to make her see me as someone worthy of a second chance.

Liam studies me. “So, you’d be okay with her being with someone else? Truly happy with, say, Mikhail?”

“No.” The answer is immediate, visceral, tearing from my throat.

Liam throws his hands up in frustration. “Then what was all that philosophical crap you just spouted? You’re contradicting yourself!”

I’m already moving, my focus locked on the dance floor. I throw the answer over my shoulder, the core of my conviction laid bare. “Because no other man deserves her.”

I hear his sputtered, incredulous gasp behind me. “Sure, no one is worthy except for you! You’re unbelievable!”

His outrage doesn’t affect me.

Before I stride into the ballroom to claim my dance, I make a quick detour. I need to find Joe Wallace, there is a business card I need to see.