The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 492

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Chapter 492

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Gemma’s POV

The Bernard family’s business. It’s a vague concept–wealth, influence, international reach. I know they moved abroad over a decade ago, and their tendrils seem to be in many things.

Meredith takes my hand, her touch warm. “The Bernard family’s most successful business abroad is jewelry trading.”

The answer is so specific, so tactile, it surprises me. “Jewelry?”

She nods, her smile widening. “All kinds. Rough diamonds, jade, colored gemstones… the whole spectrum.”

A spark of genuine interest ignites. “What about emeralds?” The question is out before I can temper it, prompted by an old, sidelined idea.

“Of course,” Meredith says, her eyes lighting up at my engagement. “Emeralds are a significant part of the portfolio.”

I haven’t forgotten my passing thought to involve Rick in the emerald trade, a plan buried under layers of personal chaos. I hadn’t expected my newfound family to be entrenched in that very world.

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“Are you interested in gemstones?” Dexter asks, his voice pulling me back. His gaze is assessing but not cold.

I nod without hesitation. “I just… had a sense the emerald market was strong lately.” It’s a half–truth. I noticed a trend, a curiosity, nothing more.

“If you’re interested,” he says, a note of approval in his tone, “you can let Annie show you the ropes. She is very knowledgeable.”

Annie beams from across the table. “If Gemma wants to learn, she just has to follow me! I’d love to.”

The offer feels real, enthusiastic. The collective warmth in the room is palpable, a stark contrast to the performative, conditional kindness I navigated for years with the Blackwells. But a sliver of caution remains. This could all be a facade for the prodigal daughter’s first night. The truth of a family reveals itself over time, in stress and disagreement, not over coq au vin.

“You are staying in Florisdale now because of that project with the Rennet boy,” Rodrick states, not asking. “Once that is settled, we will arrange for you to return to the Bernard family.”

Return. The word implies a home I’ve never seen. They aren’t based here. They’re asking me to leave, to transplant my life again. I hesitate, the uncertainty must be plain on my face.

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< Chapter 492

let’s not rush that, Gemma has absorbed a great deal today. We can discuss the future later.” She shoots me a look that says, Breathe. One thing at a time.

She’s right. The onslaught of information, emotion, and expectation is a tidal wave. I need solid ground. I look at Dexter, the man who is my father in biological fact only. After a long moment, I find my voice. “Could … have a word with you in private?”

He seems momentarily surprised, but recovers quickly, nodding “Of course.”

We leave the warmth of the private room and step out onto a secluded terrace overlooking the city’s twinkling grid. The night air is cool, a relief. I lean on the railing, not looking at him.

“You… don’t like my mother, do you?” I finally say, the question I’ve been carrying all night. “You probably don’t even know what kind of person she was.”

He doesn’t flinch. “I didn’t love her,” he confirms, his honesty blunt. “If not for that… transaction… we would not have you.”

“How can you accept me,” I turn to face him, “if you didn’t even love her?” It’s the core of my confusion. A child is supposed to be a product of love, or at least affection. I was a biological accident, a random sperm. What makes me worthy of this grand aqueplance?

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< Chapter 492

He understands I’m picking at a psychological scab. He turns, mirroring my stance against the railing. “I did not love your mother. But I met her. Once.” His gaze grows distant, recalling. “During a business negotiation, Lucien brought her to dinner. She was… formidable. Sitting at a table full of men, she was not intimidated. She was knowledgeable, articulate. She held her own and ultimately helped sway the deal in their favor.”

The image he paints is foreign. My mother, Lisette, in my memory, is all softness and gentle strength, the quiet backbone of a broken home. I never knew this sharp, intellectual version of her. The revelation is a gift, a new facet of the woman I loved.

“So,” Dexter continues, “she was a remarkable woman. While I did not love her, I respected her. Greatly.”

He wants me to understand the distinction. He doesn’t resent my existence. “Even if you were an accident,” he says, his voice firm, “I never believed you should not have come into this world. The fault lies with the adults. Not with you.”

The words, so simple, so just, loosen something tight in my chest. My throat feels thick.

I grasp for a practical objection, a test. “The Bernards are a powerful family. Aren’t you afraid I’ll just… squander it all?”

A low chuckle escapes him. “If you can manage to squander it,” hy says, a hint of that Bernard arrogance showing, “th I would

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The arrogance is there, but it’s almost charming in its confidence.

“I only have two children,” he says, his tone softening again. “You and your sister. I will do my best to treat you both equally. Since I have decided to bring you back, I will not let you feel wronged within these walls.”

I look away, up at the glittering chandelier visible through the window, its light fracturing in my blurred vision. A painful, alternate history whispers: if Lisette had met a man like this- respectful, honorable–instead of the one who sold her, her life would have been so different.

“If you do not wish to call me ‘Dad,” he offers, his voice gentle, “if it feels strange, I understand. You may start with ‘Uncle.“”

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