The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 112

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane**

**Chapter 112**

**Gemma**

I offer a slight nod, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me like a warm blanket.

After witnessing Donovan’s fierce defense of me in the courthouse, I realize I cannot let the old man down. His support has been unwavering, and in return, I owe him my loyalty.

As we drive towards his estate, the scenery shifts from the bustling city to the serene outskirts. We glide over a bridge that arches gracefully above a meandering creek, the water sparkling beneath the afternoon sun. Finally, we arrive at the imposing gates of Donovan’s renowned property.

The powerful mafia families of the area each possess sprawling mansions set on vast expanses of land. The more territory they control, the more impressive their lawns can be. After all, it’s a challenge to sneak up on someone when the land stretches wide and open.

Yet, the Blackwells’ estate, where my grandfather resides, elevates this concept to an entirely different realm.

The mansion resembles a fortress, its high stone walls encircling the property like a protective shell, complete with guards stationed at the entrance. If he had a moat, he would have every possible precaution covered.

Even Cassian and I must check in with the guards at the gate—a rule that applies to everyone without exception.

As we pull into the circular driveway, Donovan’s keen eyes catch sight of me. He leans heavily on his cane, a broad smile breaking across his face as he waves enthusiastically.

“Gemma, my dear! What a joy it is to see you!”

His warmth radiates through the air, but the moment his gaze shifts to Cassian stepping out of the car beside me, that smile falters, replaced by a frown.

Once we step inside, a servant immediately approaches to take my coat and bag. Before I can even respond or remove my coat, Donovan is nearly barking at Cassian, jabbing at him with his cane as if he were a schoolteacher reprimanding a wayward student.

“Have you forgotten how I raised you? Help your wife, for heaven’s sake!”

I manage to suppress my surprise, my jaw remaining firmly in place. With just a few pointed words from his grandfather, the formidable mafia boss appears reduced to a chastised schoolboy. Wordlessly, he takes my coat and purse, his expression a mix of reluctance and compliance.

I almost express my gratitude, but I hold my tongue, choosing to remain silent.

Once we settle onto the plush sofa, Donovan continues his gentle interrogation of Cassian. “You must be thirsty and tired. There’s fruit on the table. Why hasn’t Cassian fetched any for you?”

He shakes his head, disbelief etched on his features.

I attempt to alleviate the tension in the room.

“It’s quite alright, Grandpa. I’m not really hungry.”

The thought of allowing Cassian to peel fruit for me feels like an act of pity I’d rather avoid.

“Very well, eat when you feel inclined,” Donovan responds softly, before pivoting back to Cassian with a piercing glare.

At that moment, Claire strides into the room, her presence almost a distraction.

I had nearly forgotten she resides here as well. With a saccharine smile plastered on her face, she approaches us.

“Gemma! It feels like an eternity since we last saw each other!” she exclaims, her enthusiasm dripping with artifice.

I suppress a snort at her exaggerated display, clearly put on for her grandfather’s benefit.

But Donovan seems entirely uninterested in her antics. His attention remains fixed on Cassian and me.

Claire takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, her irritation palpable as she realizes she’s being ignored.

“Cassian, why aren’t the herbs working?” she demands, her tone sharp.

Cassian freezes, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. Of course, they aren’t working. We haven’t even shared a bed, let alone the same room. What kind of miracle does she expect?

Donovan, blissfully unaware of the underlying tension, simply grumbles.

“If it’s truly that dire, go to the hospital. Get checked out and treat whatever ails you.”

Cassian nearly chokes on his words. “Grandpa, I assure you, I’m fine!”

The image of Cassian sitting in a hospital waiting room, explaining that he’s struggling to conceive, nearly sends me into fits of laughter.

“If you’re so certain you’re fine, then why isn’t Gemma pregnant? Is it because you don’t actually want a child?”

I lower my gaze, opting to blend into the background, allowing Cassian to navigate this minefield.

“We do want children, Grandpa.”

“Then it’s settled. Starting tonight, you two will be moving in here. I intend to uncover the root of the problem.”

“Grandpa, I—”

“Enough,” Donovan snaps, his tone sharp. “You’ve been disrespectful since childhood. I held my tongue, hoping you would mature. Instead, you’ve only worsened. I’ve reached my limit with this insufferable behavior from you. Either you get your act together, or you can find someone else to provide you with shelter.”

Even I recoil slightly at his words. I’ve never seen him this furious. His tone carries a weight that is typically absent. Instinctively, I recognize it as the voice he uses in mafia dealings.

He’s not the most feared man in the room for no reason.

Claire’s lips quiver as she turns to Cassian, clearly hoping he will support her as he usually does.

“Cassian…”

He’s remained silent throughout our exchange—until now. “Apologize to Gemma.”

Claire freezes, shock evident on her face. Her eyes dart between Cassian and Donovan, disbelief etched in her features. Tears threaten to spill from her eyes as she realizes the gravity of the situation.

“Cassian!” she cries out, her voice rising in desperation. “I’m your family! You’re seriously siding with her?”

A small, wicked part of me finds satisfaction in this unexpected turn of events.

But I didn’t anticipate Cassian siding with me. Claire has always been the family’s cherished princess. This is the first instance I’ve witnessed her not getting her way with either her grandfather or cousin.

She looks as though she’s on the brink of tears. “I didn’t even say anything wrong! Why are you being so cruel to me?”

“Claire,” Cassian replies, his face devoid of emotion. “You’re an adult. You can’t just say whatever you please whenever you feel like it. Learn to control yourself and cease causing problems.”

His tone is laced with irritation, and he raises an eyebrow, adding, “Otherwise, I’ll call your father and have a lengthy discussion with him.”

Claire trembles with anger, her frustration palpable.

Yet, with everyone standing firmly with me, she has no choice but to relent. Reluctantly, she mutters, “Sorry.”

She clearly believes she can slip away unnoticed, but Donovan’s voice halts her in her tracks.

“Wait. That’s your apology? I’ve heard clearer words from toddlers. Say it again, and this time, make it sound sincere.”

“I’m sorry!” Claire exclaims, her tears spilling over as frustration overwhelms her.