The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 140

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**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth**
**by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 140**

**Gemma**

On the day of Donovan’s birthday, the atmosphere is decidedly different—no flashing cameras, no intrusive press, and certainly no unexpected guests. It’s an exclusive affair, just a private gathering of the Blackwell mafia. They label it a “simple celebration,” but with the sheer number of Blackwells present, the air is thick with energy, and quietude feels like a distant memory.

In years gone by, I would have orchestrated an elaborate celebration for Donovan—meticulously planning every detail, from my hair and makeup to the dress I would don. Each element would be chosen with care days in advance, all to ensure that I made a memorable impression.

Yet this year, I find solace in simplicity, opting for a modest, comfortable dress that drapes gently around me. I forgo accessories and embellishments, embracing a more authentic version of myself. After all, I know all too well that no matter what I choose to wear, the Blackwells will always find something to criticize.

So, why put in the effort? Instead, I resolve to prioritize my comfort and simply be myself.

The clock ticks toward 17:49, and the sounds of the kitchen echo through the house. The staff is bustling about, preparing a lavish banquet with ingredients sourced from every corner of the globe. Only the finest will suffice for the don of the most formidable criminal organization on the continent.

Sibille arrives early, accompanied by Claire and Dawson, her elegant designer handbag clutched in her hand like a trophy. Adaline makes her entrance about thirty minutes later, her presence commanding, while Adrian, despite his recent rift with Cassian, shows up with Eleanor in tow as his plus one. The only notable absence is Nathalia Montoya, and as I’m upstairs engaged in a chess match with Donovan, I learn that she and her husband have been summoned to patrol the border at the last minute. Their absence gnaws at me; on a day like this, family should be together, especially for someone of Donovan’s age.

Casting a glance at Donovan, I can’t shake the feeling of unease. I know how much it means to him to have everyone present.

“Gemma,” Donovan’s voice breaks through my thoughts, a hint of reprimand lacing his tone. “Focus. You’ve already lost.”

With a deft move, he places his final piece on the board. Checkmate.

A soft chuckle escapes my lips, a blush creeping onto my cheeks as I admit to myself that my mind had wandered.

“The guests should be here by now. I think I’ll head downstairs, Grandpa,” I say, a sense of duty stirring within me. After all, I am still Cassian’s wife, and it is my responsibility to be present for this occasion.

Donovan nods, a twinkle in his eye. “Go on. I’ll join you shortly.”

As I descend the staircase, the sight of the entire Blackwell clan gathered in the living room fills me with an unexpected sense of calm. But it’s short-lived, as Sibille and Adaline immediately shoot me their usual disapproving glares, their disdain palpable.

“I hear you and Cassian have been lounging at the estate lately. Did you just wake up?” Sibille’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“Young people these days love to stay up late, so sleeping in is understandable,” Adaline chimes in, her words laced with venom. “It’s not like Gemma has a job. She has nothing to do at home anyway—might as well catch up on her beauty sleep.”

Sibille snorts derisively. “Even if you were up all night, haven’t you learned any manners? The guests are here. You couldn’t at least come out and greet everyone? Don’t you know how a Blackwell should treat their guests?”

Before I can muster a response, their sharp remarks corner me, making me feel like an impudent child who has just rolled out of bed.

“Sibille,” I respond, my voice steady, “Grandpa asked me to play chess with him. It’s his birthday, and his wishes take precedence today.”

Using Donovan as a shield proves effective.

“If the game is over,” Adaline snaps, her gaze piercing, “you should at least lend a hand around the house.”

She regards me as if I am beneath her, a mere nuisance.

“There are plenty of staff members tending to the preparations,” I assert firmly. “I’m Cassian’s wife, not a maid.”

The room falls into a heavy silence at my declaration.

For the past three years, I have bent over backward for these people, tirelessly cooking the entire feast on Donovan’s birthday. Yet, no matter how much effort I put in, praise is scarce—save for Donovan, who always acknowledges my hard work. The rest of the family nitpicks every detail, from the dishes to the presentation.

So this year? I refuse to shoulder the burden alone.

Claire is the first to speak, her displeasure evident. “You’re not entirely wrong, but today is Grandpa’s birthday. As the lady of the house, you should at least show some appreciation and assist the staff.”