The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 444

Chapter 444
Molly’s POV

Watching Gemma walk away, that small figure getting swallowed up by the crowd at security, feels like watching the last good channel turn to static. Jace just stands there, a statue of quiet misery. I give his back a gentle pat, the way you’d soothe a spooked horse. “Jace, don’t be sad. It’s alright. We can always buy a plane ticket and visit her later.”

I know him. With Gemma, he turns into this slightly more talkative version of himself, even if it’s still clunky, word by careful word. But underneath? He’s soft. Getting rejected by her… that had to carve a hole right through him.

“Don’t be sad,” I repeat, injecting as much cheer as I can muster. “I know a place with amazing spicy chicken wings! My treat today!”

He finally looks at me, and I see it in his eyes—a flicker of pure, unamused what? He’s thinking, Does she really see me as a child? Maybe I do, a little. A sad, heartbroken one.

My gaze slides to Mr. Blackwell. He’s just… standing there. Like a monument to expensive self-control. It makes me nervous. I clear my throat. “Um… Mr. Blackwell? Aren’t you going to try to catch up with her?”

I mean, Gemma’s leaving. Who knows when she’s coming back? And she’s with Mikhail. Is he really that confident? Is Mikhail not a threat?

He turns his head, and the look he gives me is pure, icy derision. A sneer touches his lips. “Am I really less of a match than Mikhail?” The question is rhetorical, dripping with contempt for the very idea. He turns to leave, dismissing me, dismissing the airport, dismissing the problem.

I can’t help it. The words just tumble out. “After all, she is going abroad!”

He doesn’t even break stride. His reply floats back over his shoulder, casual as a thrown gauntlet. “I’ve booked a flight for tomorrow.”

My jaw goes slack. Oh. So the cool, unconcerned act was just that—an act. He’s had a ticket in his pocket the whole time. The game was never over.

I look back at Jace. His expression has shifted from pure sadness to something more complicated—a bleak melancholy mixed with the dawning understanding that the competition for Gemma’s heart, even from thousands of miles away, hasn’t lessened; it’s just changed venues. She’s gone from sight, but he’s still rooted to the spot, brow furrowed, lost in a painful new calculation.

“Jace?” I say his name a few times before he finally blinks, coming back to himself in the noisy terminal.

“Let’s go.” His voice is cold, flat. The brief window of vulnerability has slammed shut. He turns, and the familiar, aloof Jace is back, locking all that hurt away behind a wall of silence as we walk toward the exit.

Mikhail's POV

The plane cabin hums with recycled air and low-grade anxiety. Gemma and I are in one row; a few seats up, I can see Zina already scheming, Jeremy a resigned pillar beside her. Before the seatbelt sign is even off, Zina’s bartered her way into the spot next to Gemma with the efficiency of a black-market trader, leaving Jeremy to his own devices. Typical.

No sooner is she buckled in than the chatter begins. It’s like she’s wound a spring for the entire flight over.

“You would not believe how twisted Peter is,” she announces, as if launching a podcast. “He said he wanted to marry me, but when Jeremy disagreed, Peter probably decided, what the hell, he’s getting on, wants a late-life romance. Guess what he did?”

Gemma looks politely bewildered, lost in the labyrinth of the Hartley family drama. I keep my eyes closed, pretending to sleep. It’s the best defense.

“Turns out,” Zina continues, leaning in, “during a morning run, Peter set his sights on a younger Latina woman living in Florisdale. He just… chased after her! Right then and there!”

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