The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 162

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest 162**

**Chapter 162**

**Gemma’s POV**

Her expression shifts from shock to a desperate attempt at innocence, but before she can mask her surprise, I deliver a sharp slap to the other side of her face. The sound rings through the sterile air of the hospital room, echoing the tension that hangs between us.

I tower over her, my gaze icy and unwavering. “If you ever think about meddling with Grandpa’s health again, you will come to understand just how merciful this slap truly was.”

Reyna’s hand flies to her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief, a mix of hurt and indignation swirling in them.

Cassian steps in closely behind me, his presence a solid wall as he pulls me away from Reyna, positioning himself protectively at my side. I can feel the weight of his stare, heavy with a multitude of unasked questions, yet it is Reyna’s tears that fall, perfectly timed—her lips tremble, her eyes glisten with unshed emotion, and her voice quakes with a forced indignation.

“I already apologized! At the warehouse, remember? I said I was sorry a hundred times, yet you still punished me. I even promised to stay away from Cassian…”

“And yet here you are!” I interject, my voice cutting through her words like a knife. “You always find a way back, like a snake slithering through the cracks.”

She recoils, slipping into her all-too-familiar role of the victim, feigning innocence with practiced ease.

“But I didn’t force him to bring me here! So why are you slapping me now—”

“Don’t play these games with me.” My patience is thin, and I can feel the tension in my muscles, coiled and ready to snap.

Cassian interrupts, his grip tightening on my arm as he hisses under his breath. “Gemma. This is a hospital! Please, behave appropriately or…”

I whirl around, our eyes locking in a fierce exchange. His expression is weary, etched with concern and frustration.

“Oh, now you care about hospital rules?” I scoff, the sarcasm dripping from my words. “Is it only my responsibility to uphold decorum while everyone else runs wild, doing whatever they please?”

His jaw tightens, the dimple in his cheek appearing not from a smile, but from the tension of his scowl.

“Why do you keep speaking in riddles? If something happened, just say it.”

He doesn’t raise his voice—Cassian Blackwell never yells. His icy demeanor serves as punishment enough, chilling me to the core. I cast a glance at Reyna, knowing she’s ready to spin another sob story, and I’m exhausted by her theatrics. Why not give her a head start?

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