The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 243

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest 243**

**Chapter 243**

**Gemma’s POV**

The shrill, persistent ringing of my phone slices through the haze of sleep, pulling me from the depths of my dreams. Groggy and irritable, I fumble around the bed, my hand searching blindly for the source of the noise. When I finally manage to answer, Zina’s anxious voice crackles through the line like a jolt of electricity.

“Gemma, did you see the news?”

Squinting against the harsh morning light that filters through the curtains, I close my eyes again, as if shutting them could somehow erase the tension that her words have sparked within me. “What news?”

Her voice quivers, rising with urgency. “The news about Blackwell Industries. The flight to Brenton encountered a storm and is now missing.”

My heart drops, and my eyes snap open. A cold wave of fear washes over me, stiffening my body. Most flights to Brenton are piloted by Cassian. My chest constricts with anxiety as I repeat, “Where did you say the flight was to?”

“Brenton! Is Cassian on that plane—” Her voice fades into a muffled echo, drowned out by the rapid thumping of my pulse. The covers are thrown aside as I leap from the bed, urgency propelling me toward the door.

Downstairs, the housekeeper has already turned on the television, and the anchor’s calm, clinical voice fills the room, reporting on the unfolding crisis.

“Gemma, are you still there? Did you hear me?” Zina’s voice cuts through the chaos.

“I heard you,” I reply, my voice trembling. “Do you know if it was Cassian on today’s flight?”

There’s a pause on the other end, heavy with uncertainty. “I… I don’t know. I called you as soon as I heard the news, but you’ll have to confirm it.”

I hang up, a tight knot of dread forming in my stomach. It’s been a while since I’ve kept up with Blackwell Industries, and I haven’t glanced at Cassian’s flight schedule for this month. But one thing is clear: I can’t sit idle, waiting for updates. I need to be there, to see for myself.

For the first time in over a year, I instruct the driver to take me to the Blackwell Airlines Headquarters, a place that had always felt off-limits to me, a mere warehouse employee in the grand scheme of things.

As we drive, my mind swirls with a chaotic blend of thoughts, each racing against the other—some hopeful, some despairing, all contradictory.

Upon arriving, the airport service desk is a whirlwind of chaos.

People are shouting, their voices a cacophony of anxiety and desperation, each seeking information about their loved ones aboard flight 276.

The receptionist freezes at my approach, her eyes widening in recognition. “Mrs… Mrs. Blackwell? What brings you here?”

I cut her off, urgency clawing at my throat. “Is the captain Cassian?”

Her hesitation is palpable, the air thick with unspoken fears. “Mrs. Blackwell, please go to the VIP lounge first. The situation is a little delicate here. I’ll have Mr. Blackwell’s assistant come and explain everything. Is that okay?”

I hesitate, then nod, not wanting to add to the burden of the overwhelmed staff. I move toward the lounge door, but just then, Reyna steps forward, grabbing my arm with a fierce grip.

“Wait!” she demands, her voice rising almost to a shout. I shake off her hand, my own anxiety sharpening my edge.

“What the hell do you want from me?” I snap, irritation flaring.

“Is Cassian in trouble?” Her glare is relentless, piercing through my silence.

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