The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 423

Chapter 423
Gemma’s POV

Sandra falls silent, the fight draining from her. Her face cycles through shock, anger, and finally, a brittle resignation. 

She waves a dismissive hand, as if shooing away a fly. “So what if there are pictures? All men stray. Cassian had other women during your marriage, didn’t he? It’s the nature of the beast. It means nothing.”

I’m caught between labeling her opinion tragically generous and accommodating, or just profoundly sad. 

It makes a twisted sense. 

Her entire identity, her social standing, is built on being Mrs. Aaron Collin. Admitting the foundation is rotten is not an option.

“Gemma, don’t act so high and mighty! I see you. You’re doing this because you hate Claire and Sybille, and since I’m Sybille’s friend, you’re taking it out on me!”

A low chuckle escapes me. “Sorry, but your personal drama isn’t my primary motivation. Though,” I concede, “you’re not entirely wrong. Claire and Sybille are in the frame. Literally.” 

I lean in slightly. “You recognize this club, don’t you? Claire’s been a patron.”

Confusion flickers, then cold understanding dawns in her eyes.

My smile turns icy. “Claire and your husband were at that same massage parlor on the same day. Do you really think she was oblivious?” 

The implication hangs: if Claire knew, then Sybille, her mother and Sandra’s ‘good friend,’ absolutely knew. She’s known for who knows how long and never breathed a word.

“You’re trying to turn me against my friends!” 

She accuses, but the conviction is gone.

“I’m not turning you against anyone, Mrs. Collin. The facts did that. But if you want a clearer picture,” I say, my voice dropping to a smooth, dangerous purr, “ask your dear friend Sybille about the recent shipments from Kuangmaid Port.”

The name hits her like a slap. 

Kuangmaid Port, the heart of Aaron’s import-export empire, a place he’s always strictly forbidden her from visiting. 

The place where the Collin family’s cruise ships dock, ships rumored to carry more than just tourists. She knows about the past scandals; smuggled alcohol, contraband cigarettes. She’s been kept deliberately in the dark, turned away by port security every time she tried to snoop.

“I’m giving you a choice,” I state coolly, holding up my phone. “I will stop here. Your husband’s other dalliances remain between us. But if you so much as look at me sideways again, I will send every piece of data I have on Kuangmaid Port: financials, manifests, the works to every single person in this room. The Collin name won’t just be a gossip item, it will be a front-page financial scandal.”

To drive the point home, I tap my screen. A second later, Sandra’s phone chimes with a new batch of received files. Not the salacious photos this time, but documents. 

Blurry but legible shipping manifests, flagged customs reports, incriminating financial transfers linked to Kuangmaid Port.

She stares at the screen on her phone, her face a mask of dawning horror. Without another word to me, she turns, a woman possessed, and stalks across the terrace toward Sybille.

Sybille, who has just received an identical, terrifying data dump on her own device, looks up. Her face is pale, her usual composure cracked. “Sandra, I can expl—”

Sandra cuts her off, her voice a low, trembling wire of steel. “So. You knew. All this time, you knew about Aaron and those women, and you said nothing.”

Sandra’s POV 

I stare at Sybille’s pale, pleading face, and the fire in my chest flickers uncertainly. Her eyes are wide, full of fear. 

She is hurt that I would even question her, and I feel my stomach twist.

She’s been my friend for years, my confidante. The one person who always listened.

“I… I was only trying to protect you, Sandra!” 

When she puts it that way…

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