The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 430

Chapter 430
Gemma’s POV

Although the venue is only a ten minute walk away, we choose to go in Zina’s SUV, her playlist blasting from the speakers. 

My sports car sits useless in the garage; it won't fit us all in. 

Jace is a quiet presence in the passenger seat, Molly chatters nervously in the back with Zina, and I’m just along for the ride. The ten-minute drive to Urban Lane feels both endless and over in a blink.

When we pull into the area near Lake Tankwooc, the expected chaos is absent. No lines of cars, no crowds spilling onto the sidewalks. The vast grounds are… still. Quiet. A few lonely lampposts cast pools of jaundiced light on empty pathways.

“What’s going on?” Zina breathes, turning down the music. The sudden silence is louder. “Wasn’t there supposed to be a fireworks show? Why is it so empty?”

A prickle of my old doubt returns. Is everyone just losing interest? The blank QR code, the non-existent online presence—it all feels more ominous under this vacant sky.

I clutch the tickets, their crisp paper now feeling like dubious artifacts. I approach a lone staff member leaning against a temporary barrier, looking profoundly bored. “Excuse me,” I say, my voice cutting through the quiet. “Is there a fireworks show happening here tonight?”

He doesn’t even look at the ticket I’m holding out. He gives a lazy, half-hearted nod, his gaze somewhere over my shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. It’s happening. Just go on in and find a spot. Should start soon.”

The reassurance is so casual it’s almost insulting, but it’s permission. I wave the others forward. As we pass the barrier—no scanner, no tear-away stub, nothing—Zina frowns at her own ticket. “If they’re not checking these, can’t anyone just walk in? What’s the point?”

I shrug, the motion feeling stiff. “Low expectations, I guess. Relaxed atmosphere.” The words taste hollow.

We follow a dimly lit path winding away from the entrance. The darkness feels dense, pressed close by the trees. We are a small island of light and sound in a sea of quiet. Then Molly freezes, a sharp intake of breath her only warning before a blood-curdling scream shreds the calm.

“Ah! There’s a snake!”

In a blur of panic, she latches onto Jace’s arm, her fingers digging in, her whole body trembling. Jace goes rigid, a statue of surprise. But after a stunned second, his instincts take over. With a gentleness that surprises me, he carefully guides her back a few steps, putting himself between her and the rustling bushes.

“Where’s the snake? This place can’t be that creepy!” Zina yelps, now attaching herself to my own arm like a limpet.

Jace, the de facto protector, steels himself. He approaches the suspicious foliage with cautious steps, his silhouette tense against the gloom. He reaches out, parts the leaves—

A scruffy wild cat explodes from the undergrowth with a yowl, streaking past our legs and vanishing into the darkness. The collective jump is almost comical.

Molly sags, releasing a huge breath and patting her chest. “Oh, it’s just a wild cat. You really scared me!”

Jace looks down at where her hand is still wrapped around his bicep, then back at her face, a silent question in his eyes. You can let go now. She follows his gaze, her cheeks flushing a deep red in the low light. “Oh! Jace, sorry about that!” She drops his arm as if burned.

The tension broken by absurdity, we move on. Zina, ever the documentarian, suddenly gasps. “Gemma, look! A statue! We have to take a photo!” Her voice is fierce with sentiment. This is it, her unspoken message says. Our last night all together.

Jessica, perhaps eager to belong, raises her hand quickly. “I can take it for you!”

But Zina just grins, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into the frame. “Nonsense! You’re in it too!” She positions us—me in the middle, Jace on my other side looking slightly bewildered, her and Molly flanking us. She holds her phone out at arm’s length. “Ready? One, two, three… cheese!”

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