The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 238

**TITLE: Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest 238**
**Chapter 238**

**Gemma’s POV**

It has been several hours since my mother’s condition stabilized, yet the weight of anxiety still clings to me like a heavy fog. I find myself standing in the sterile corridor of the hospital, surrounded by the unsettling mix of antiseptic and something else—something that churns in my stomach and makes me feel nauseous. The dull throb in my shoulder, a painful reminder of the bite my mother inflicted during one of her episodes, radiates beneath the bandage concealed beneath my blouse.

But even that pain pales in comparison to the molten anger that simmers within me, threatening to erupt at any moment. It’s a fierce, consuming fire that makes me feel alive, yet utterly overwhelmed.

The nurse, a young woman with anxious eyes, wrings her hands nervously as she stands before me. I can see the fear in her expression; she has never witnessed my fury before, and it makes her voice quaver as she speaks. “Mrs. Blackwell, we… we are deeply sorry for the hospital’s negligence.”

Her words tumble out in a hurried rush, almost pleading for my understanding. I take a moment to breathe, inhaling slowly to steady my racing heart. “Negligence?” I repeat, my voice controlled but laced with an edge sharp enough to make her flinch.

“What could have triggered this? Did someone visit her today? Did she eat anything unusual? Did she hear something she shouldn’t have?” The questions spill from my lips, each one more desperate than the last.

The last time my mother had one of these outbursts, Reyna and Angela had been here, taunting her mercilessly. The memory is etched in my mind, and every time I recall it, a fresh wave of anger surges through my veins.

The nurse shakes her head vigorously, her brow furrowed in concentration. “She hasn’t seen anyone recently. We’ve adhered strictly to your instructions: no visitors without approval, and absolutely no strangers.”

“Then what is it?” I press, folding my arms tightly across my chest to suppress the tremors threatening to break free. “Did she watch the news? Did someone call her? There has to be a trigger… She wouldn’t just spiral into madness without a reason.”

The nurse’s expression darkens, and she bites her lip, deep in thought. Finally, she shakes her head, her face a mask of concern. “Patients here aren’t allowed to use their phones unsupervised. The only calls she’s made have been to you, and those are monitored by our staff. The television in her room only has restricted channels, nothing disturbing. There hasn’t been anything recent on the news either.”

I clench my jaw, frustration boiling inside me. None of this makes sense. There has to be something—a clue, a hint, anything that could explain the chaos.

Then, a flicker of realization crosses her face. “Oh! I remember. She received a package this morning.”

The words hit me like a slap across the face. “A package? What package? From whom?” My heart races as I feel the blood drain from my face.

The nurse hurries into my mother’s ward, rummaging through a corner near the cabinet. After a moment, she emerges, holding a small brown parcel wrapped in plain paper, completely unmarked and devoid of any indication of its sender.

I take it from her, my fingers trembling as I peel back the wrapping. Inside, nestled within the confines of the packaging, is a doll—delicate and palm-sized, with hand-stitched features that seem to mock me. The instant my gaze lands on it, a chill races down my spine, and I feel as if the ground beneath me has shifted. My knees threaten to buckle.

No… Not this doll.

I stare at it, my breath caught in my throat. I know this doll all too well.

A rush of memories floods my mind: rain pounding against the windows on that fateful night years ago. I remember my frantic steps toward Reyna’s room, seeking solace, only to find her bedroom overflowing with toys. Barbie dolls, plush animals—each one nearly identical to mine. Dad always returned from his business trips with gifts for me, and as a child, I never questioned why Reyna had nearly identical copies of each one.

But out of all those toys, there was one doll that stood apart.

I can see it clearly in my mind’s eye, perched on Reyna’s desk, strange yet familiar. I remember leaning closer to it, an unsettling chill creeping up my spine as I did.

Reyna’s voice had startled me from behind. “By the way, Gemma, doesn’t this doll look like your mom?”

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