The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 230

**TITLE: Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest 230**

**Chapter 230**

**Cassian’s POV**

A tight knot forms in my stomach, a sensation that I can’t quite decipher. Is it the remnants of last night’s alcohol still swirling in my system, or is it the gnawing anxiety of knowing she’s avoiding me again? I glance at Chloe, but I refrain from probing further. Deep down, I’m aware that she doesn’t possess any more information than I do.

Determined to force some food down, I pick at my breakfast, but each bite feels like a chore, a struggle against my own body. Just as I manage to swallow a mouthful, my phone vibrates on the table, the screen lighting up with Adam’s name.

I swipe to answer, my voice clipped. “Speak.”

“I found her,” he states bluntly, without any buildup. “The one who played you. Moonlight—I’ve got her location.”

A flicker of something that resembles hope stirs within me, but it doesn’t quite form a smile. Finally, the moment I’ve been waiting for!

“Text me the address,” I command, urgency lacing my tone.

“Are you sure about this?” Adam’s voice carries a note of caution. “Last time, she slipped through the cracks—”

“Last time, I let her slip,” I interrupt, my resolve hardening. “But it won’t happen again.”

There’s a brief pause before he replies, “I’ll be waitin’.”

With that, I set my phone down and push my plate away, the food untouched. I rise from the table, my mind racing with thoughts of what’s to come.

After a quick shower, I throw on a fresh outfit and stride towards the garage. Gemma’s Porsche sits there, looking smug and arrogant in its designated spot. The sight of it ignites a fire of frustration within me. That damn car serves as a constant reminder, a thorn in my side that I can’t seem to pluck out. I don’t care about how she acquired it; what infuriates me is that it wasn’t from me.

“Tom!” I call out, my voice echoing against the concrete walls.

He appears almost immediately, as if conjured by my command. “Yes, sir?”

“Order me a Maybach,” I instruct, my tone leaving no room for debate.

Tom blinks in surprise. “Sir, you already—”

“Yes, I know. Order me another one,” I cut him off, my irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.

“And I want it pink,” I add, watching as he hesitates for a fraction of a second before nodding.

“Understood.”

He knows exactly what my request implies, and I turn back to glare at the Porsche, my vision blurring slightly as the ache in my head intensifies.

Mine… always mine.

**Gemma’s POV**

I step into Zina’s villa, the air thick with the scent of detergent mixed with a distinctly masculine aroma. The atmosphere feels different from my last visit—less polished, more lived-in, as if it has absorbed the essence of its inhabitants. My gaze is immediately drawn to the balcony, where a pair of men’s boxers flutters in the breeze like a ridiculous flag of conquest.

I raise an eyebrow, a teasing smirk creeping onto my lips. “You seem to be living quite a wonderful life!”

Zina gasps, rushing over to yank the underwear down with both hands. “Oh, shut up! Don’t tease me.”

“They didn’t specify what they wanted. They just said they wanted to meet in person before making any plans.”

I frown, feeling a sense of unease creeping in. “They didn’t even outline their needs?”

“Nope.” She spreads her hands helplessly. “It’s a total mystery.”

I drum my fingers thoughtfully against the armrest. “That’s unusual. Most companies, especially struggling ones, cling to Moonlight’s reputation like a lifeline. They don’t hesitate to hand over briefs.”

Zina nods quickly, her agreement evident. “That’s what I thought too. I told them what—”

A feeling of unease twists in my stomach.

“So they know who we are, what we deliver… and they still want this meeting. Isn’t it too cautious?”

“Or too calculating—” she mutters, and I glance up sharply. Worry flickers in her eyes. “Gemma, what if it’s not about business? What if it’s something else?”

“If that’s the case, then we’ll find out. Sitting here speculating won’t answer anything,” I reply, determination hardening my resolve.

Zina hesitates, her brow furrowing. “Maybe because it’s a small company, they don’t trust easily? Maybe they’ve been burned before, and that’s why they want to keep everything secret until it’s official.”

“Maybe,” I concede, though my instincts hum under my skin, warning me that there’s more at play here. I rise from the chair, dusting my hands off. “Either way, we’re meeting them. I want to see what kind of people keep a sinking ship afloat for this long.”

She watches me, contemplation evident in her gaze, before finally nodding. “Alright. I’ll set it up.”

“Good.” I sling my bag over my shoulder, already moving toward the door. “Let’s see if their mystery is worth our time.”