The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 418

Chapter 418

Reyna’s POV

I’m waiting by the phone, perched on the edge of my settee, the anticipation a sweet, fizzy feeling in my chest. Any moment now, it will ring.

Cassian will call me, telling me to come back. That Blackwell Industries needs me… that he needs me.

The phone buzzes. I snatch it up, a practiced, demure smile already on my lips.

But the voice that crackles through isn’t his. It’s Greer’s. And it’s laced with panic, not triumph.

“Reyna, it’s over. We’re calling it off.”

My smile freezes, then melts into something ugly. “What? You can’t. We had an agreement!”

The plan was flawless. Apply pressure on the weak points, the loyalties he feels to his old partners. Force his hand until he has no choice.

“We did warn you,” Greer snaps, his fear making him blunt. “He almost blacklisted us! If we hadn’t backed down, our companies Would be finished. He was ready to burn down his own busines to make the point!”

The words stab at me. I feel the air leave my lungs. Burn down his own business? For what? To keep me out?

“What did you do?” I spit, scrambling for reason. “You must have overplayed it! Asked for something extra! He wouldn’t just refuse me. Not after everything.”

There’s history there… obligation! He owes me a chance.

“We asked for nothing but what you stipulated,” Greer retorts, his voice tight with resentment. “He simply does not want back. That’s the beginning and end of it. Consider our arrangement terminated. Do not contact us again.”

The line goes dead with a final, damning click.

A white–hot fury erupts in my chest. A raw, guttural scream tears from my throat. I don’t think, just hurl the phone across the room with all my strength. It smashes against the ornate wall with a terribly satisfying crunch.

Why? The question is a searing brand in my mind. Why?! All I wanted was to go back. To reclaim my place at his side, in the empire I helped him rule.

It’s a reasonable request… a deserved one.

As I pace, my breath coming in sharp gasps, I see the disgusting, irritating face of Gemma in front of my eyes.

Of course.

It has to be her, it’s the only explanation.

She’s poisoned his mind against me… she has lent the whispers in his ear, turning my legitimate claim into something ugly and twisted.

If it weren’t for her, he would have decided logically.

The bitterness floods my mouth. I walk over to where my phone lies, the screen a spiderweb of cracks. I pick it up, checking if it still works.

It does, even though the broken glass bites into my thumb.

I don’t hesitate. I scroll through my contacts, my fingers trembling with a focused, icy rage. I find the number I’ve been holding in reserve, my final card to play.

I press call. It connects after two rings.

“It’s time. Activate the plan. Everything we discussed. The moment it’s done, the full amount will be in your account, just as we agreed.”

Gemma’s POV

Since my plans have solidified, the practicalities begin.

The studio space I’d been considering with Zina and Jace, a potential headquarters for our freelance collective, is now a redundant expense.

I arrange to meet Meredith for brunch to deliver the news.

“Ms. Bernard,” I begin, stirring my tea, “I truly appreciate you setting the space aside for us. But my circumstances have changed, I won’t be needing it anymore.

Meredith looks up from her salad, surprise etched on her elegant features. “Oh? Was there an issue with the location?”

“No, not at all,” I assure her with a shake of my head. “It’s me. I’m going abroad. I’ll be away for… a significant while. So, it’s best to put the studio idea on hold.”

The truth is, with me gone, the discipline of a shared office would crumble. Zina and Jace are brilliant, but their natural habitat is a home office with flexible hours.

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