The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 427

Chapter 427
Author's POV 

The aircraft, a sleek, unmarked cargo liner with a polished business-class nose, touches down with a whisper, its belly heavy with unlisted steel. Cassian Blackwell, his pilot’s jacket crisp over a tailored suit, feels the familiar deceleration, his mind already on the logistics of unloading the precious, volatile cargo from Melbouville. He steps from the cockpit into the subdued cabin light, his gaze sweeping the sparse business-class section out of habit. And he stops.

There, in the front row, is Reyna.

A flicker of pure, unguarded surprise passes over his face, there and gone in a heartbeat. His eyes, cold and assessing, linger on her for only a second before moving away, as if dismissing an inconvenient piece of furniture. She is seated quietly, having made no special requests. A coincidence, then. An irritant.

The plane docks. The passengers stir. Only then does Reyna lift a trembling hand to her brow, a soft groan escaping her lips. A flight attendant is at her side instantly. "Ma'am, please hold on a moment. We'll be on the ground soon, and we'll arrange for medical assistance as soon as we can."

Reyna keeps her head bowed, her posture a masterpiece of frail distress. A wheelchair is procured. The crew, efficient and concerned, offers to disembark her first. But she refuses, her voice a weak thread. "I just need… a moment to rest. Please." She declines all help, insisting on staying in her seat. The attendants exchange helpless looks, obliged to respect a passenger's wishes, even as the cabin empties around her solitary, suffering figure.

Cassian, having finalized the secure handoff protocols with his ground crew via a terse radio call, finally steps off the plane into the jet bridge. The sight that greets him is a carefully staged tableau.

Reyna spots him. A pathetic energy surges through her. She lurches up from her seat and stumbles toward him, a choked cry tearing from her throat. "Cassian!"

The surrounding crew jolts in shock, their professional masks slipping at the raw, personal anguish in her cry.

Cassian doesn't move to catch her. He takes a single, precise step back. The motion is a rejection so complete it has physical force. Reyna, overbalancing, crumples to the polished floor with a soft thud. A collective gasp ripples through the jet bridge.

"What is the meaning of this?" Cassian's voice is a whip-crack, stern and utterly devoid of warmth.

The lead attendant flusters. "Mr. Blackwell, this passenger claimed she was feeling unwell and refused to disembark or accept medical aid. We were unsure how to proceed."

From the floor, Reyna looks up, tears welling in her eyes, her expression a calculated portrait of helplessness. "Cassian... I'm so dizzy. Please, you have to help me. You're the only one here I know. The only one I trust."

Her plea, loud and desperate, draws curious stares from the few remaining ground staff. They don't know her. They don't know the history.

Cassian's jaw tightens. He ignores her entirely, turning his glacial stare on the cluster of attendants. "Why are you standing here? Summon the airport medical team. Remove her. Immediately. If she has a medical episode on company property, the liability falls on all of you." His order is final, a command that brooks no argument. He then straightens the cuff of his jacket, wrinkled from where her grasping hand might have brushed air, and strides past her without a second glance.

Later, slumped in a mandatory wheelchair pushed by a paramedic, Reyna watches his retreating back, her heart a stone in her chest. After everything, she thinks, bitterness like acid in her throat, he is still this cruel. He won't even look at me.

Cassian dismisses the encounter as an unfortunate piece of theater. A coincidence, leveraged. He is wrong.

It isn't long before Reyna appears in the stark, modern lobby of the Blackwell Aviation building, pale and determined, heading straight for the executive elevators. The same crew members from the flight, now off-duty, spot her and exchange stunned glances. "What's wrong with her?" one whispers.

The gossip ignites. "Who is she? Is she Mr. Blackwell's…?"

An older mechanic, overhearing, scoffs and shakes his head. "Her? No. She’s been circling Mr. Blackwell for years. Back when he was still married…"

The story spreads, swift and sure, through the halls. By the time Reyna is demanding to be let into Cassian's office, everyone knows. 

They know the woman on the floor wasn't just a sick passenger. She was, and is, the mistress.

Liam's POV

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