The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 125

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest 125**

**Chapter 125**

Gemma

The moment Claire’s piercing scream slices through the air, Cassian and I spring into action, racing toward the chaos.

As I approach, a strange sense of amusement washes over me, mingling with disbelief. I cross my arms and lean back slightly, settling in to observe the unfolding drama like a spectator at a theatrical performance.

However, Cassian has other ideas. He pushes his way through the throng of onlookers, his expression a mix of determination and urgency. With a swift motion, he grasps both women by their arms, forcibly separating them as if they were two combatants in a duel.

Reyna stands there, her face marred by scratches and oozing blood. Instinctively, Cassian positions himself in front of her, shielding her from Claire’s wrath. His brows knit together in a fierce scowl.

“What the hell are you doing? Do you not care about our family’s reputation?” he demands, his voice low but filled with intensity, reverberating through the air like a thunderclap.

“She’s acting like a damn tramp, throwing herself at every guy in sight! I saw it, Cassian! With my own eyes! Why won’t you believe me?” Claire retorts, her voice rising in pitch, a blend of indignation and desperation.

Cassian’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing as anger flares within him.

“That’s enough! Apologize to Reyna,” he commands, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Claire’s eyes widen in disbelief, as if the very notion of apologizing is utterly foreign to her.

Her chin lifts defiantly; she’s clearly unwilling to concede any ground. In that moment, I see the flicker of Cassian’s temper ignite, reminiscent of the last time we clashed.

Reyna, her voice barely above a whisper, tugs gently at Cassian’s sleeve from behind.

“Cassian… my face really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?” she murmurs, her tone soft and fragile, as if she might crumble at any moment.

Instantly, Cassian’s demeanor shifts to one of concern, the protective instinct kicking in as he looks at Reyna with a mix of worry and urgency. It’s a tactic she knows will work, and she’s employed it flawlessly.

With one final, scathing glance directed at Claire, Cassian takes Reyna by the arm and leads her out of the ballroom, leaving a stunned silence in their wake.

I had anticipated feeling numb, but instead, a sharp pang of pain twists in my chest, quickly followed by a simmering rage that threatens to boil over.

That bitch.

The words echo in my mind, a mantra that fuels my anger. My vision blurs as tears threaten to spill, memories flooding back—bitter reminders of all that has transpired.

Cassian didn’t even glance back. Reyna is injured, and his immediate instinct is to rush her to the hospital as if it were a matter of life and death. As if he has forgotten entirely about the wife still standing alone amidst the crowd.

All those sweet, tender words he had whispered to me recently… was it all just a performance?

As Cassian and Reyna disappear from view, the eyes of the guests shift toward Claire—and then to me.

We are the last two Blackwells left in the room, the weight of their scrutiny palpable.

Whispers begin to ripple through the crowd, a low hum of speculation.

While some might have thought Claire was merely creating a scene, I know the truth that lies beneath the surface. The real punchline of the evening is her—Claire, the so-called powerful princess of the Blackwell family, who has only just made her debut into society today.

People have likely been pondering why Cassian kept our marriage hidden for three long years.

Now, they finally have their answer.

He has someone else in his heart, someone who has taken precedence over our union. He never intended for our marriage to be public in the first place.

A bitter smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I step away from the crowd, reaching for a drink from a nearby waiter’s tray.

One glass. Then another. And yet another.

Just as I’m about to down the next drink, a firm yet gentle hand covers mine, halting my movement.

“Don’t drink anymore,” Kane’s voice breaks through my haze, sharp and clear.

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