The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 168

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

**Chapter 168**

**Gemma’s POV**

As the clock approached 11:25, I found myself darting through the bustling hospital lobby, gripping the strap of my bag with a fierceness that mirrored my fraying nerves. Each hurried step echoed the frantic rhythm of my heart, and I could feel the weight of anxiety pressing down on me.

In my mind, I replayed the words I needed to say, trying to strike the perfect balance between courtesy and caution. I had to warn Mom without making it sound like I was throwing accusations. But just as I rounded the corner near her ward, laughter and muffled voices reached my ears, halting me in my tracks.

“Oh! Gemma is married and happily settled,” I heard Mom exclaim, her tone radiating pride. I took a deep breath and stepped inside without knocking, and the moment her eyes landed on me, her face lit up like a beacon.

“Gemma!” she exclaimed, her warmth wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

“Hi, Mum! Hello, Aunty Lydia. It’s been quite a while… mm, I think this is the first time we’re meeting since Dad’s funeral, right?” I said, my voice steady despite the undercurrent of tension.

Lydia’s smile faltered for just a moment, a flicker of understanding passing between us that made the air feel thick with unspoken words.

“Right! Right, your memory is as sharp as ever,” she replied, her tone a little too bright, as if trying to smooth over the discomfort.

There was a brief flash of unease on her face, but she quickly masked it, glancing behind me as if she expected Cassian to emerge from the shadows.

“But why did you come alone, darling? Where’s the husband your mom was just raving about? Or have you tired of each other already?” she asked, her voice dripping with a mixture of curiosity and judgment.

“He’s busy, Aunty. I could only make it on such short notice,” I replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Lydia clicked her tongue, a sound of disapproval. “I understand, dear. What does he do again? Your mom mentioned something about a business?”

I rolled my eyes subtly, knowing she wouldn’t catch it as she took my hand in hers, patting it between her clammy palms.

“Sweetie, I had plans to introduce you to some nice boys, but I just found out…” she sighed dramatically, as if mourning a lost opportunity.

“But honestly, you could’ve aimed a little higher. A girl with your looks, even in your situation, should’ve landed at least a mid-tier heir,” she added, her words laced with a condescending tone.

“I’d say he does just fine,” I replied, feeling a surge of protectiveness for Cassian.

“Oh, I’m sure!” she waved her hand dismissively, as if swatting away a pesky fly. “But really, a man who can’t even spare time to meet his wife’s important relatives? What does that say about his priorities?”

“Thank you for your concern, Aunty, but it’s really not necessary. He makes time for all my important guests,” I shot back, my voice sharper than intended.

The dart landed precisely where I aimed, and for a fleeting moment, I saw her lips twitch with irritation. Yet, Mom remained blissfully unaware, her expression fond as she chimed in.

“She’s right. Cassian is genuinely polite and well-mannered. Despite being raised as the heir to one of the largest mafia families, he always shows thoughtfulness towards our family.”

“Mafia?!” Lydia exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise.

Well, it was too late to stuff that cat back in the bag.

“Yes, my son-in-law’s name is Cassian Blackwell,” I confirmed, the name hanging in the air like a loaded gun.

“Bla-Blackwell? The Blackwells?” she stammered, her shock palpable.

Even her daughter, who had been engrossed in her phone the entire time, looked up with newfound interest.

“Won’t you say hello to your cousin, Kitty?” Lydia nudged her daughter’s shoulder urgently.

Kitty’s indifferent green eyes scanned my unstyled hair, plain cotton shirt, and bare face with a hint of disdain. She wrinkled her nose and muttered, “Hi.”

“Kitty! Greet her properly. Is this how you introduce yourself?” Lydia chastised, her voice sharp.

“Hello, I’m Kitty Bravard. It’s nice to meet you. I’m a senior at North Ketter University,” she said flatly, without even meeting my gaze.

I studied her, recalling only vague memories from family dinners long past. She had transformed into a tall, striking young woman, and Lydia seized the opportunity to boast.

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