The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 531

Chapter 531

19 min left

Christopher’s POV

I push open the front door, and the silence hits me first.

But this silence isn’t peaceful or calm, rather oppressive and suffocating, like a hollow echo as if the walls were waiting for me to come back home.

I stop on the threshold, my keys still in my hand, the weight of them suddenly feeling weird, like everything else in this house.

The hallway stretches before me, familiar and yet completely alien. I remember leaving things a little haphazard, but everything is exactly where it should be: the umbrella stand, the coat rack, the small table where I drop my mail.

Something is off… my brain is sending danger signals, the hair on my arms standing up.

My pulse is beating too fast.

I shake my head, forcing a breath. I’m being ridiculous. I’m tired, and the argument with Gemma is still burning in my chest.

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19 min left

< Chapter 531

“I’ll call the police.” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “We should go in with them.”

Mikhail’s hand covers mine, warm and solid, pressing my phone back down against my thigh. I look at him, ready to argue, ready to tell him that we don’t have time, that we can’t wait, that Christopher could be-

“Wait,” he says, and his voice is low, calm, the voice of someone who has walked into dangerous places before. “Maybe we don’t need to call the police. Let us just try and bring Christopher

back.”

I hesitate.

The arrival of the police might end up with Christopher’s name being in a report, his face on a screen, and his private terror made public. That won’t be good for his career, which is still yet to reach its potential.

And moreover, we might not even find something to prove that our doubts and fears were legitimate.

I’m not sure know if it’s what he would want, otherwise he wouldn’t have contacted me for help first.

I look at the house again. The light in the window. The quiet

street.

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< Chapter 531

“Okay,” I say finally. “Let’s go.”

I reach for the door handle, but Mikhail’s hand is still on mine, holding me back. I turn to him, and there’s something in his expression I haven’t seen before. Something careful. Something protective.

“No,” he says. “You stay here.”

“What? No, I-”

“Keep an eye through the CCTV on the laptop.” He nods toward the screen I’ve already pulled up, the feed from Christopher’s living room flickering in black and white. “Don’t come.”

I open my mouth to argue, the words already forming. I’m not fragile. I’m not going to break. He’s my friend, I should be there

“Gemma, I can see you want to argue with me! But he might get triggered after seeing you.”

Mikhail says, and I pause. He’s right… Christopher left because of me, because of who I’m connected to, because of the name I carry without wanting it.

If I walk through that door, he won’t see a friend. He’ll see a representative of the Bernard family, the people who took gyerything from him, standing in his home, pretendin care37

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