The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 204

**TITLE: Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest 204**

**CONTENT: Chapter 204**

**Gemma’s POV**

Linda stands before the sink, inhaling deeply as her fingers lightly graze its edge, seeking stability. The fluorescent light casts a harsh glow, rendering her complexion pale and almost ghostly. Yet, there’s a flicker of determination in her eyes, a glimmer that suggests she’s finally ready to confront the truth.

“Gemma… is it alright if I call you by your first name?” she asks, her voice steadying as she seeks a connection.

I nod in affirmation, encouraging her to continue.

“I want to clarify what you witnessed tonight. The truth is… I once loved Mikhail. But love alone couldn’t hold our relationship together, at least not for me,” she confesses, her gaze unwavering as she reveals her past.

Curiosity piqued, I lean in. “What was missing, then?”

Her fingers dance along the sink’s edge, tracing invisible lines, a delicate gesture that belies the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

“A taste of reality,” she finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You know who he is—the son of a Mafia godfather. You can imagine the implications of that,” she continues, her tone shifting slightly, as if she’s bracing herself for the weight of her memories.

A laugh threatens to escape my lips, but I stifle it, acutely aware that I possess more knowledge about this subject than I would care to admit. It’s best to remain silent, to let her speak her truth.

Her words flow with the smoothness of someone who has rehearsed this narrative countless times, with her heart bearing silent witness to each retelling.

“Every day, his life teetered on the edge of danger. A phone call at an ungodly hour, strangers showing up at our doorstep, his mysterious disappearances for weeks at a time. I was left in a constant state of waiting, always anxious, always uncertain…”

A small, bitter laugh escapes her lips, tinged with a sense of resignation.

“Initially, I convinced myself it was passion, that his world was thrilling. But in reality? It was terrifying. No woman wants to watch the man she loves gamble with his life daily. I couldn’t focus on my studies; I couldn’t even envision a future for myself.”

Her eyes drift away from me, glazed over as if she’s wandering through the corridors of her past, the years weighing heavily on her like a thick fog.

“I had dreams of working abroad, of advancing my career, but Mikhail… I knew he would never leave Nassau, never abandon his family. I couldn’t sacrifice everything for him—not for a love that could leave me a widow before I even had a chance to carve out my own path.”

She pauses, the gravity of her words hanging in the air. “I understood the conditions of our relationship and made the choice to leave. He should have understood that too… don’t you think?”

I notice the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes, yet she manages to offer me a reassuring smile.

“But it’s irrelevant now. It’s all behind me, I assure you.”

I return her smile, recognizing the clarity in her expression, a stark contrast to the turmoil that often accompanies such revelations.

“You don’t regret it at all, do you?” I inquire, genuinely curious.

“No.” She affirms with a nod, a small smile playing on her lips. “I went overseas, and it was the right choice for me. Love is precious, but it doesn’t sustain you; you can’t live off it.”

There’s no bitterness in her voice, no lingering resentment toward Mikhail.

“I’m engaged to Jones now. I love him deeply. That’s my reality, and I have no regrets about choosing it.”

In that moment, I realize how fundamentally different she is from Mikhail. She embodies freedom, lightness, and a grounded sense of self in her choices. Meanwhile, he remains shackled to the past, unable to sever the ties that bind him.

“You think you know everything?” he snaps, frustration seeping into his tone.

“I don’t need to know everything; I only need to know what I saw. And what I saw tonight? She doesn’t care about you anymore. She’s moved on, Mikhail. You should too.”

His brooding expression returns, his gaze fixed on the asphalt, lips slightly parted as if he wants to argue but is at a loss for words.

Finally, he pushes himself off the ground, his tall frame casting a shadow that obscures the streetlight’s glow.

“Let’s go,” he mutters, and I fall into step beside him, the air thick with unspoken words.

A sleek black SUV pulls up to the curb moments later, and Mikhail yanks the door open with a decisive motion.

“Get in,” he commands, then pauses to look at me, his expression softening just a fraction. “Goodbye.”

I slide into the back seat, the door slamming shut behind me. The driver, one of Mikhail’s men, glances at me through the rearview mirror, the silence in the car feeling charged with unspoken tension, like a storm brewing on the horizon.

I close my eyes, feigning sleep to escape the awkwardness, but as we pull up to the hotel, he opens the door for me, his demeanor shifting as he speaks in rough but clear Russian.

“Miss Blackwell, our boss… he is a good man. I hope you do not let him down.”

He offers me a brief nod before the SUV pulls away, and it takes a moment for the weight of his words to sink in.

He thinks I’m genuinely Mikhail’s girlfriend?

Well, perhaps this charade isn’t so bad after all!