**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth**
**by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 10**
Gemma
The sensation of Cassian’s gaze on my skin feels like a heated caress, igniting an uncomfortable warmth that seeps into my very core. After what feels like an eternity, he finally diverts his eyes from my face, a smirk playing on his lips, as though he finds amusement in my silent struggle—like a spectator watching a child throw a tantrum.
His attention shifts to his hands, where he feigns an idle inspection of his nails, the casualness of his demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing within me. “You can drop the act any time,” he states, his tone dripping with a mix of condescension and certainty. “I know you don’t want a divorce. Why would you, considering all the effort you put into ensnaring me in the first place?”
I feel my teeth clench, the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “All I ever wanted was to survive,” I reply, my voice edged with a bitterness that I can’t quite suppress.
This argument has become a familiar refrain, one we’ve sung countless times before, and I’m weary of the endless cycle.
All my debts are settled, the weight of financial burdens lifted from my shoulders. Yet, the thought of divorcing him brings a gnawing sense of guilt, knowing it will hurt Grandpa Donovan.
Despite the rocky start to our relationship, Cassian has shown me genuine kindness over the past three years. It’s remarkable, really, how a man I once viewed as a foe has transformed into a source of unexpected support.
But the terms of our contract were clear: I had to marry Cassian, not remain married indefinitely.
Deep down, I know that Donovan envisions a future where Cassian and I produce a Blackwell heir together. But the truth is, creating a baby was never stipulated in the contract.
Perhaps I’m deluding myself, but I can’t shake the feeling that Donovan believed Cassian and I would naturally gravitate toward one another—that this arrangement would somehow flourish.
I had hoped for that, too.
But we were both mistaken.
I’ve given Cassian three years of my life, and in return, he has offered me nothing of substance. Surely, Grandpa will understand my decision, even if it means there’s no baby involved.
Won’t he?
Pushing aside my swirling doubts, I assert, “I’m not acting, Cassian. The papers are ready. My signature is already on them. All you need to do is sign, and we can file with the court. You can retain everything that belongs to you. I only want a few things that were mine before this marriage.”
Cassian’s expression darkens, his brow furrowing as he contemplates my words. “What exactly is yours? Let me guess—half of my family’s entire empire?”
“No!” I exclaim, my impatience flaring. “Do you really think I want to get entangled in all that mafia chaos and criminal activity? I have no desire for people shooting at me or the government breathing down my neck. I only want what belonged to me and my family before this marriage.”
He ponders my response, and a heavy silence envelops us. Finally, he speaks, breaking the stillness.
“Seaside Manor is still under my name since we had to repurchase it for you. It belongs to me.”
His words strike me like a knife, and I sit up straighter, my heart racing.
Seaside Manor is more than just a property; it’s my mother’s old house, the last remnant of her family’s wealth, a legacy tarnished by their disapproval when she chose to marry a criminal.


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