The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 209

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 209**

**Reyna’s POV**

Perched uncomfortably on the unforgiving wooden bench at the police station, I can’t shake the feeling that time has come to a standstill. The air hangs thick with humidity, and the lethargic fan above me seems to be merely a decorative piece, doing little to alleviate the oppressive heat. The incessant buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead gnaws at my nerves, each hum echoing my growing anxiety. I’ve already recounted my story, responded to the endless barrage of questions, yet Cassian remains absent, and my patience is wearing thin.

An hour has slipped by without a single sighting of him.

If I had known he would be gone for this long, I would have never subjected myself to this torment.

With a sigh, I swipe at my phone, bringing the screen to life. No missed calls, no texts from him.

I could reach out directly, urge him to return, but I doubt that a straightforward approach would yield the desired effect.

What if he resents me for clinging to him, for pulling him away from Gemma?

No, I need a subtler strategy… something that will weave itself into his heart like smoke, drawing him back to me without him realizing it was my intent all along.

I take a deep breath and begin to type, my fingers moving deliberately across the screen.

“Cassian, don’t worry about me. Take care of Gemma first. Once I’m done here, I’ll return to the hotel myself. After all, I won’t be unlucky enough to be robbed twice in one day.”

As I read over my words, a small smile creeps onto my face. It’s lighthearted, self-deprecating, and carries just enough guilt to tug at his conscience.

I can picture him imagining me wandering through unfamiliar streets, a limp in my step, forcing a smile despite the pain. Guilt will gnaw at him for not being there to help.

Retreat to advance… it’s the only strategy I have left.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting, I finally push myself off the bench and make my way out of the station.

Back in the hotel room, I lock the door behind me, a small act of defiance against the world outside. I had booked this room just for today, knowing that the rest of my stay would be spent with Cassian.

As I lift the hem of my skirt, revealing the scarred calf I have always loathed, a familiar ache pulses through my leg. The injury never truly healed, leaving behind an unsightly, twisted scar that serves as a constant reminder of my past.

The fresh scrape I acquired earlier today is just a superficial wound. It will mend with time, leaving no trace behind, and despite its recentness, it lacks the dramatic flair I need to elicit the reaction I desire from Cassian.

I can’t afford to have his heart waver over something so trivial.

My hand reaches for the fruit knife resting on the tray near the minibar. I hesitate for a fleeting moment, but the determination within me overrides any second thoughts. I press the blade against my skin, dragging it across the old wound.

A sharp sting makes me gasp, but the sight that follows is worth the pain. Blood wells up almost instantly, trickling down in a dark crimson line that stains the carpet beneath me.

The scar looks raw and grotesque, far more alarming than it did moments ago. But still, it’s not enough.

I dig my fingers into the wound, pressing down hard until the flesh swells and reddens, the pain intensifying with each moment. Blood flows more freely now, painting my leg a deep crimson.

When I finally step back, the sight is hideous… and pitiful.

I splash cold water on my face, trying to shake off the haze of pain and desperation, before I call the receptionist.

“Hello… could you send up a pair of crutches? I’m having trouble walking.”

With the crutches tucked under my arms, I make my way to Cassian’s new room, each step a reminder of my feigned injury.

I’ve changed into white clothing that accentuates my pale complexion, my hair falling messily around my shoulders, adding to the illusion of fragility. Leaning against the door, I allow my face to crumple in a way that I hope conveys vulnerability.

It’s time to play my part.

I knock gently on Cassian’s hotel door.

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