Chapter 418

Chapter 411
Gemma’s POV
The grip on my arm is startling, a brand of heat and possession through the silk of my sleeve.
I yank my arm free, the motion sharp. “Is there a problem?”
My voice is cool, a direct challenge. Where I go ceased being his business the day the divorce decree was signed.
Cassian opens his mouth, but for a second, no sound comes out. He looks… unanchored.
“You… can’t go,” he finally manages, the words more a plea than a command.
A short, incredulous laugh escapes me. “Why not?”
The question hangs between us, stark and simple. The old chains are broken. I am free to move, to breathe, to leave.
My bluntness seems to physically wind him. He stares, his eyes searching my face as if the answer to a different31
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< Chapter 411 question might be written there. After a long, tense moment, his voice drops, rough with an emotion I refuse to name. “Are you really going with him?” I nod, a single, definitive dip of my chin. “Of course.” It’s the truth. I gave Mr. Smith my word. I will see Mikhail through his surgery. What happens after that is a blank page, but for now, the destination is set. “Will you come back?” The question is quiet, laced with a melancholy so deep it surprises me. He sounds afraid. Afraid that if I step onto that plane, I will vanish from his world for good. The truth is, I haven’t thought that far. “Not sure yet,” I say honestly. But his fear plants a seed. Until he said it, the idea of leaving this city and this country, hadn’t fully formed. I stayed for my mom… and she is gone. I could work from anywhere, so truly, what is left to anchor me here? The thought of a clean slate, an ocean between me and this tangled past, suddenly feels less like unning and more like… breathing. 10:31 (*) 18 min leff < Chapter 411 I see the panic flash in his eyes at my uncertainty. He grasps for leverage, for guilt. “What about your mother? Are you going to leave her alone in the cemetery every year?” The audacity of it, him using my mother as a bargaining chip, sends a cold fury straight through my heart. I keep my expression an icy mask. “I could have her moved. It’s not an impossibility.’ The words are brutal, a deliberate severing of the sentimental tie he’s trying to bind me with. He recoils as if struck. “You’d move your mother’s grave… just to be with him?” The hurt and disbelief in his voice are palpable. I frown, bewildered. What does Mikhail have to do with where I choose to lay my mother to rest? This is about my future, my peace. Before I can dismantle his flawed logic, I feel a warm, solid presence at my back. Mikhail’s arm slides around my waist, a casual, supportive weight. “Even if she were 3/7 10:31 * 18 min left. < Chapter 411 doing it for me,” he says, his tone light but edged with steel, “it seems you’ve rather definitively forfeited your right to an opinion, haven’t you?” Cassian’s face bleeds of all color. His gaze is locked on Mikhail’s hand, that simple point of contact, as if it’s a knife wound. I don’t shrug the arm off. At this moment, the message is useful in my favour. I meet Cassian’s devastated stare, my voice level. “Cassian, grow up. These are my choices. They stopped concerning you a long time ago.” Cassian’s POV The finality in her voice feels like door slamming in my face. She turns her back on me, head straight as she follows Mikhail into the thrumming heart of the party without a single glance back. She just… walks away from me like it costs her nothing at all. My own legs feel unsteady, as if the polished floor has turned to sand. She’s leaving the country. The very idea is terrifying. 10:31 18 min left. < Chapter 411 My mind, fogged with a desperate, hurt logic, seizes on the most painful conclusion. The baby… it must be his. She’s leaving to build a life with him, permanently. I feel nauseous. I don’t know how much time passes. The music bleeds into a meaningless roar. The next thing I’m aware of is the burn of whiskey in my throat and the room tilting at a nauseating angle. A familiar grip hauls me upright from a plush couch. “You have got to be kidding me.” Liam’s voice is pure exasperation in my ear. “You’re this obliterated at Dream International’s party? This isn’t even our event. What is wrong with you?” He props me up, but my vision swims. All I can see are fragments of her… the curve of her cheek as she laughed earlier, the cold set of her jaw as she told me to grow up. Liam’s words are just noise, a distant buzz. “The party’s winding down,” he’s saying, grunting as he adjusts his hold. “You never stick around this late. Unless…” He follows my bleary, fixed stare across the 5/7 10:31 (*) 18 min left < Chapter 411 room, to where she’s now standing with Zina. “Ah. Right. The ex-wife.” He starts maneuvering me toward an exit. “Look, if you can’t let her go, then do something about it. Actually try and be decent. But this?” He gestures at me, at the empty glass in my other hand. “This just guarantees she stays an ‘ex. Permanently.” He’s right. I know he’s right. My pride has been a fortress, and I’ve demanded she scale its walls on her own. No one could tolerate that siege forever. Then I see Mikhail approach her. He says something and she nods. The group: her, Zina, Wesley turns as one, beginning to move toward the main doors. They’re leaving… taking her away. A raw, unthinking urgency electrocutes my drunken haze. I shove away from Liam, surging to my feet. The world lurches violently. My legs buckle, and I pitch forward. “Damn it, Cassian!” Liam’s arms shoot out, catching me with a grunt of effort, keeping me from face-planting10:31 18 min left < Chapter 411 onto the marble. “Will you stop acting like a lovesick teenager? I never knew you had this in you!” The embarrassment is a dull throb beneath the panic. I wrench myself from his grasp, ignoring the spinning room. My focus narrows to the retreating figure in the Van Gogh dress. I have to… I need to….. Stumbling due to my shoes skidding on the slick floor, I hurry after her, like a man chasing a ghost that’s already halfway out the door. רוד Write your comment it Gifts ADMINADDADMIN Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.