The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 119

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

**Chapter 119**

**Gemma**

The way Claire phrases her words makes it seem as if I were some scandalous woman, sneaking away with another man at a party while my husband stood there, oblivious and foolish.

Anyone with a modicum of intelligence could detect the condescending undertone lacing her voice.

“Gemma, you should have remained by Cassian’s side. He was genuinely worried about you. You need to stop running off like that.”

With that little bombshell dropped, Claire turns to Kane, her smile radiant and dazzling, extending her hand with an exaggerated flourish.

“Hi, Mr. Butler! I’m Claire Marshall. I’ve always admired you. You’re exactly how I envisioned you would be.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at her theatrics.

Claire’s motives are as transparent as glass.

She consistently tries to elevate herself above others during work events, dismissing them as if they were mere pebbles beneath her polished shoes.

But Kane? He’s a different story. That’s the sole reason she’s suddenly turned on her charm.

Kane, ever the professional, maintains his stoic expression but offers her a brief, polite handshake.

Cassian leans closer, his voice low and edged with tension.

“Where have you been? Why were you with Kane? And what’s with the change of clothes?”

I clamp my lips shut, choosing silence over explanation.

It feels futile to even try. Honestly, I don’t want to.

“Gemma, answer me!”

His voice is taut, barely containing the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“It doesn’t matter,” I respond, my tone icy.

That only seems to fuel his frustration. He scowls, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from Kane, as if to shield me from the world.

“We’re still married. Why are you being so distant? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

I let out a weary sigh, feeling drained.

“First of all, my phone died. And secondly, I got locked in the damn dressing room.”

I hold up my phone, displaying the lifeless black screen as evidence.

“You got locked in the dressing room?”

His brow furrows, confusion washing over his features. Then, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he admits, “I just questioned her. She seemed really flustered.”

“How did you get out?”

I glance away, remembering the chaos. “Someone in the room had a heart attack…”

Seeing the expression on his face, I realize he won’t let this go until I spill every detail. So, I do just that.

When I finish recounting the events, Cassian’s brows knit together in a deep frown.

“If you hadn’t seen Kane downstairs, were you really planning to jump from the second floor?”

I nod, my resolve firm. “Of course.”

Cassian’s reaction is immediate, his jaw tightening as seriousness washes over him.

“That’s incredibly reckless! Did it even occur to you that you could have broken your ankle—or worse, hit your head? You could have died!”

His voice rises with each word, trembling with frustration.

“You seriously risked your life for a stranger you barely know!”

Even in his anger, he looks undeniably handsome.

Cassian’s expression shifts, a flicker of hurt crossing his features, as if my words struck a chord deep within him.

I realize, perhaps for the first time, that I no longer turn to him for support—not even as a last resort.

Maybe that realization is hitting him harder than I’d anticipated.

His voice softens, almost wistful.

“You weren’t always this independent.”

His words catch me off guard. He’s dredging up the past.

I hesitate, weighing my response, then finally speak.

“People grow. And besides, you didn’t care back then.”

He responds quickly, as if the words have been waiting to escape.

“I know, I was wrong. My grandfather forced me into this marriage. I wasn’t happy, so I ignored you. I even kept your identity a secret on purpose.”

“I understand. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t be happy either,” I reply with calm conviction. “But if you don’t love me, then let’s just get divorced. It’s better for both of us.”

Then I add, “By the way, the dressing room incident? That was Claire. What are you going to do about her?”

Cassian stares at me, his silence heavy and contemplative. The sadness deepens in his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, almost as if the words are a confession. “I haven’t given you the attention you deserve. I’ll find a way to make it up to you. And I’ll deal with Claire.”

I freeze, my heart stuttering in disbelief.

Did Cassian just… apologize?

And it sounds gentle. Is he genuinely trying to comfort me?

He opens his mouth to say something more, but a few of his business partners approach from across the room, breaking the moment.

I tuck my swirling emotions away and whisper, “Go handle your business. We’ll talk later.”