The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 464

Chapter 464
Cassian's POV 

“But when you love someone,” Linda presses, her voice tight with a desperation I recognize all too well, “don’t you want to be with them? At any cost?”

That was my creed, once. Possession. Conquest. To have her back, no matter the method. But Liam’s mocking, insightful words echo in my head. Love isn’t just about possession. It’s about wanting the other person to be happy. The simplicity of it, the sheer difficulty of it, finally clicks into place. I understand it now. I won’t build a prison, even if it’s gilded, and call it love.

Linda looks at my calm refusal, her hope visibly crumbling. She’s about to retreat, defeated, to her chair when I speak again. “But we could still work together on something else.” The alliance is tempting, even if her initial plan was abhorrent. There must be a better way.

Just then, the elevator doors at the end of the hall slide open. Liam steps out, and trailing behind him is a woman I don’t recognize. Liam’s eyes widen the moment he sees me. “Cassian? You’re really here!” The exclamation is pure surprise, followed by instant calculation. He glances at Mikhail’s door, and I see him put the pieces together: if I’m here, Gemma is inside. He subtly pulls the woman back by her elbow, a restraining gesture.

I look from Liam to the stranger. “And who might she be?”

“She’s my cousin,” Liam says, his voice deliberately loud, projecting into the quiet corridor. “Here to see Mikhail.” It’s a warning shot, meant to be heard through the door.

Before Gemma emerges, the two women lock eyes. Linda and this newcomer. There’s an immediate, silent assessment that crackles in the air—a visceral, feminine radar pinging off the same target.

The woman—Vicky—shakes off Liam’s grip and takes a few deliberate steps toward Linda. Her posture is aggressive, territorial. “Who are you?” she demands, her gaze sweeping over Linda. “What’s your connection to Mikhail?”

Linda, to her credit, doesn’t flinch. She meets the challenge with a cool, polished calm. “I’m a friend of his. We’ve known each other for over a decade.” She even extends a hand, a gesture of polite, dismissive superiority. “And you? I don’t quite catch your name.”

Liam watches the exchange, his expression a mix of apprehension and morbid fascination, as if he’s stumbled into a particularly tense scene of a soap opera.

Vicky ignores the offered hand, her lip curling in a sneer. “I want to see Mikhail.” She turns and reaches for the door handle.

Liam is faster. He grabs her arm again, pulling her back. “Mikhail might still be resting,” he says, his voice firm but with an edge of panic. “Don’t go in and disturb him.” His eyes dart to me, wide with a silent, urgent plea. Do something.

He’s signaling me, clearly. Go in. Extract Gemma. Contain the situation before this volatile newcomer breaches the door and unleashes chaos on whatever delicate conversation is happening inside. 

I give a curt nod, turn my back on the standoff in the hallway, and push open the door to Mikhail’s room.

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