The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 532

Chapter 532

15 min left

Mikhail’s POV

I stand outside Christopher’s door for a long moment before I knock. The night is quiet, and the pronounced silence makes every sound feel like an intrusion. My foot throbs beneath the bandage, a dull, persistent ache I’ve learned to ignore. I raise my hand and knock.

The door opens slowly. Christopher stands in the frame, and for a second, neither of us speaks.

His eyes meet mine, then dart away, the awkwardness filling the space between us immediately.

He stormed out of the villa forty minutes ago, angry and wounded, and now I’m standing on his doorstep like nothing happened. I see the shame flicker across his face, the embarrassment of being seen falling apart.

“Mikhail.” His voice is quiet, careful. He steps back, holding the door open wider. “Come in.”

I step inside and ask, keeping my voice easy. “You doing okay?”

HeЯaughs, a short, hollow sound. “Define okay.”

0845

15 min left

< Chapter 532

He closes the door behind me, and we stand in the hallway for a moment, neither of us quite sure what to say. He’s avoiding my eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. The anger from earlier has burned out, leaving something raw in its wake.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, the words coming out fast, like he’s been holding them in. “For storming out like that. I shouldn’t have—it wasn’t fair to you. Or to Gemma.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “You had a lot going on.”

He nods, still not looking at me. “Still. It was…” He trails off, shakes his head. “I just needed to get out of there.”

I don’t push. I know what it is to need to get out of a place, to feel the walls closing in and know that if you stay a second longer, something inside you will break.

Instead, I look around, my gaze moving from the hallway to the living room, cataloging everything I see.

“Have you looked around?” I ask. “Since you got back?”

Christopher’s brow furrows. “Looked around? What do you

mean?”

“Just… check things out. Make sure everything’s normal.” I keep 2/8

37.45

15 min left

< Chapter 532

my voice casual, but I see the way his expression shifts, the unease creeping back in.

He shakes his head slowly. “No. I came in, took a shower. I was about to get some water when you knocked.” He pauses, his eyes scanning the living room. “Why? What do you think is wrong?”

I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I move into the living room, my limp more pronounced than I’d like. The room is spotless. The cushions are plumped, arranged just so. The coffee table is bare, the surface polished. A dish towel hangs from the oven handle, folded into crisp, precise thirds.

“You clean up before you left?” I ask.

Christopher follows my gaze, and I see the moment he really notices it. His face pales. “No,” he says slowly. “No, I didn’t.”

I nod, not wanting to alarm him further. “Let’s take a look around. Just to be sure.”

He doesn’t argue. We move through the house together, room by room. I open closets, check behind doors, look in spaces no bigger than a man could fit. Christopher follows me, his movements mechanical, his eyes never quite settling on anything. I can see him trying to piece it together, trying to understand what’s happening to him.

ghg bed is made so perfectly like it was done with mea

ing 7:45

15 min left

< Chapter 532

tools; the pillows fluffed, the duvet tucked. The closet doors are closed. I pull them open. His clothes are hung by color, organized, pressed. I glance at Christopher. He’s standing in the doorway, his face drained of color.

“I don’t understand,” he says, and his voice is smaller now. “I used to wish someone would clean my house when I wasn’t around. Now that it’s happening, it’s…” He shudders. “It’s terrifying.”

I close the closet doors. “We’ll figure it out.”

We finish the search in silence. The study, the bathroom, the second bedroom. Everything is clean, in its place. Nothing is missing, nothing is broken. It’s the kind of organization that should be a gift, but here, in Christopher’s house, it feels like a warning.

We end up back in the living room. Christopher sinks onto the couch, his hands rubbing his face. I stand by the window, looking out at the dark street, the car where Gemma is waiting, watching through the laptop screen.

“You want to talk about it?” I ask. “About Gemma?”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “What’s there to talk about? She’s a Bernard. I should have known. I should have—” He stops, runs a hand through his hair.

4/8

07.46

15 min left

< Chapter 532

“I know, she seems quite overbearing at times, right? Bossing everyone around like nobody’s feelings and opinions matter.x

“What else could it be? After all, she’s still one of them. She has

their blood, carries their name.”

“Right-”

I purse my lips, trying to win his trust while criticising Gemma so much that he’ll feel forced to defend her.

“The thing is, I don’t mind the decisive and no- nonsense attitude, I actually like it! She was becoming my backbone in this industry, and we genuinely got along. She was my friend. I trusted her. And now I find out she’s one of them, the people who gave my mother an ultimatum and kicked me out like I was nothing.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, staring at his hands. I let the silence stretch, let him work through it on his own. He’s not ready to go back to the villa, not ready to face her. But he’s thinking about it. That’s enough for now.

“Thank you,” he says finally. “For coming. I was feeling weirded out alone.”

I nod. “You want something to drink? Water? Beer?”

Hechesitates, then nods. “Beer. Yeah. Let me get it.”

07:46

15 min left

< Chapter 532

He stands, moves toward the kitchen. I follow at a distance, my eyes scanning the room, the open layout making it easy to see everything at once. Christopher walks to the fridge, his hand on the handle, and I’m already moving, some instinct prickling at the back of my neck.

He opens the door.

The scream that tears out of him is not human.

It’s a raw, animal sound, ripped from somewhere deep. I’m there in an instant, my hands on his shoulders, pulling him back, turning him away. My eyes catch a glimpse of the fridge— white fur, red blood, bodies piled on shelves.

I immediately move to block his view, wedging my body between him and the horror he’s just seen.

“It’s okay…” I say, and my voice is low and steady. “It’s okay. Look at me. Christopher, look at me.”

His eyes are wild, unfocused, his chest heaving. He’s shaking, fine tremors running through his shoulders, his arms, his hands where they grip my shirt.

“It’s okay,” I say again. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

He makes a sound, something between a sob and a gasp. I keep 6/8

07:46

15 min left

< Chapter 532

my hands firm on his shoulders, keep my voice calm, keep the horror that is crawling up my spine locked tight behind my ribs.

“Breathe,” I tell him. “Just breathe.”

His chest hitches, stutters, then finds a rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. I match it with my own, a steady anchor in the chaos.

“That’s it,” I say. “You’re doing good. Just keep breathing.”

Behind me, I hear the hum of the refrigerator, the slow drip of something onto the kitchen floor.

I keep my eyes on Christopher, keep my hands on his shoulders, keep the words coming, steady and soft.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

His breathing slows. The wildness in his eyes begins to recede. His hands loosen their grip on my shirt, and I feel him start to come back, to find his way out of the panic.

“I’m going to take you back to the living room,” I say. “We’re going to sit down. We’re going to figure out what to do. Okay?”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify