The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 503

Chapter 503

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Gemma’s POV

When we step back inside, the living room is empty except for Mikhail, who is already engrossed in a nature documentary as if the last hour of drama never happened.

Linda is gone and I pause, surprised. I’d even been mentally preparing a guest room for her.

“Where did she go?”

I ask, setting the first aid kit down.

“She left”

Mikhail says without looking away from a lioness hunting on

screen.

His casual tone piques more than just idle curiosity. After everything, her sudden departure feels significant.

“What did she talk to you about?”

He finally glances at me, only for a few moments. “She asked to borrow money.”

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< Chapter 503

The statement hits me with the force of a jolt. “What?” The word escapes in a disbelieving whisper. “Borrow money?!”

Of all the confessions, pleas, or accusations I imagined, this kind of a request was not on the list. Wasn’t she here for reconciliation? For love? How does money even enter that

conversation?

Before I can process it further, Mikhail stands up, stretching with a yawn. “I’m tired,” he announces, his voice flat, closing the subject.

“I’m going upstairs to rest.”

He walks away, leaving me alone in the quiet living room with the distant sounds of the savanna.

Mikhail’s POV

I make my way upstairs, leaning on the cane and leaving Gemma and Cassian in a suspended silence below. The truth is, Linda didn’t ask for money. The conversation was a much heavier currency.

She spent the entire time unraveling, her pride…that same, formidable thing she carried through school and career, completely discarded at my feet.

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“Mikhail, don’t you miss it? What we had? We were torn apart by misunderstandings, not because we stopped loving each other. So why can’t we try again?”

Her voice was raw. She had never humbled herself like this for

anyone but me, and each time felt like a piece of her was being shaved away.

“Linda,” I’d said, my voice steady, trying to anchor us both in a reality she kept avoiding. “We didn’t break up over a misunderstanding. You chose your career. Over me.”

I understood the choice, I never faulted her for it.

Not everyone places love above ambition. But the truth of that choice meant everything to me: if she’d done it once, the capacity to do it again was there.

And our story was already written. I didn’t understand why she kept trying to scribble in the margins.

“No, it’s not like that!” she insisted, desperate. “I

underestimated what you meant to me, I admit it! But I see it now! It’s like Cassian and Gemma. He realized he loves her, so he’s asking for forgiveness, isn’t he?”

The comparison was a misfire. “We are nothing like Cassian and Gemma,” I said, a finality in my tone she couldn’t argue with.

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Then I laid down the card I’d been holding. “Linda, I know about the eight hundred thousand dollars. Your ex–husband’s

demand.”

The air left her lungs. Fear flashed in her eyes immediately. “Mikhail, it’s not what you think! Let me explain—”

“I’m not blaming you,” I interrupted, my voice softer. These were choices she made after we were already over. They belonged to a life that was no longer my business.

Tears spilled over, hot and sudden, dripping onto the back of my hand. I used to dread her tears because they felt like an

indictment. Her pain felt like my failure. Every sob was a guilty verdict I had to bear.

Now, the tears still twist something inside me, but the guilt is gone. The connection is severed.

“Mikhail, I was wrong. So wrong. I thought I could fix it. Please, just one more chance.” She was panicking, realizing how much I might know. If I knew about the money, I might know about the videos. The shame of it contorted her beautiful face. “Mikhail, do you… despise me?” The question was a whisper of her deepest terror: that I loathed her for her infertility, for the compromising tapes her vile ex held.

I sighed, the weight of her history a tangible thing in the room. 4/already bought the videos back from Jones. All of them. Thegg

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are no copies. He won’t dare keep any, and he won’t bother you again.”

She stared, shock rendering her speechless. “You…?”

“Mikhail, please,” she begged, a new horror dawning. “Don’t watch them. They aren’t real! They’re not me!”

Seeing her unravel further was its own kind of agony. “I didn’t watch them,” I said, my voice gentle. “They’ve been destroyed. No one will ever use them to threaten you again.”

She looked at me through the blur of her tears until I reached out, my thumb brushing a streak from her cheek. An old, automatic gesture. “Don’t cry. You have a long life ahead. You’ll meet someone better.” I’ve never been stingy with love, even when it’s over. I loved her deeply once, which is why she couldn’t let go. And because I loved her, even now, I could only be kind.

“You really don’t care about the videos?” she asked, disbelief warring with hope.

I shook my head. Those videos were never her choice. People make terrible mistakes in relationships. We all do.

“And… that I can’t have children?”

hildren aren’t a prerequisite for love. If a man loves you, 19:25

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