The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

**Gemma**

Our conversation lingers, filled with excitement, before we finally hang up. Her voice, brimming with joy at the thought of seeing both Cassian and me, echoes in my mind long after the call ends.

I find myself sinking onto the edge of my bed, the fabric cool against my skin as I ponder our exchange. It dawns on me that attending Cassian’s family dinner today was a favor to him. Perhaps I could call in that favor now.

After all, he owes me that much, doesn’t he?

Yet, as I reflect on our time together, I realize that even during my charade of being his cheerful little wife, Cassian was often too preoccupied with his work to visit my mother.

Of course, why would the esteemed head of the Blackwell family take the time to visit a woman deemed “crazy” by society? He was far too busy with clandestine meetings in shadowy gambling dens and orchestrating his illicit flights across international borders.

Now, as our divorce looms over us like a storm cloud, I know there’s no way he would consider returning the favor I extended to him.

With a deep sigh, I send him a quick text, despite knowing it’s futile, and then I drift off to sleep, my mind swirling with thoughts.

Morning breaks, and I awaken to find no response from Cassian. I hadn’t anticipated one, so the absence of his reply doesn’t sting as much as I thought it would.

Honestly? It’s probably for the best. I need to break the news to my mother that my relationship with him has come to an end, and it’ll be much easier without him lurking in the background.

As I make my way to the hospital, I take the elevator up to my mother’s floor. The hospital is nestled just outside the city, surrounded by a lush forest, its wide windows and glass walls creating an illusion of openness and freedom that feels so rare in our lives.

Upon stepping onto her floor, I’m greeted by the sight of numerous patients gathered in the lounge, where nurses and volunteers engage them in games and puzzles.

The atmosphere is serene, and I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Donovan for ensuring my mother could stay here, rather than being shuffled off to a state-run facility or, worse, left to fend for herself on the streets.

I approach her room, the door ajar, and pause for a moment, watching her gaze out the window at the river that flows gracefully behind the hospital.

My heart aches at the sight. My mother was never meant to be entangled in the mafia world; that much is painfully obvious just by looking at her.

She hailed from a wealthy, old family that cast her aside after her marriage, their pride wounded by their connection to a criminal.

And my mother? I’ve often wondered what drew her to my father. There’s nothing hard or ruthless about her; she’s always seemed so gentle, so elegantly poised. I’ve never witnessed her lose her temper, unlike the other mafia wives I’ve encountered.

Her kindness has always been her defining trait, and I believe it’s what blinded her to the true nature of my father for so long.

“Mom, please. Just keep the money I send you or spend it on yourself. Cassian and Mr. Blackwell don’t need gifts from you.”

“Well, I’m your mother, and they’re your in-laws. We should be able to exchange gifts,” she insists, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

“Mom, seriously. It looks like you spent all the money I loaded onto your card on this stuff. Stop buying them things!”

I strive to maintain a gentle tone, yet I can hear the edge in my voice. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and her bottom lip quivers.

“I… I just feel like I owe them so much for paying for me to stay here. Don’t you think they’ll like them? I can return these and try to find something better!”

I close my eyes, grappling with my emotions. No, I don’t believe Cassian would appreciate any of this, but I can’t bring myself to tell my mother that. The thought of her devastation is unbearable.

Just then, I hear footsteps approaching, and I look up to see Cassian entering the room. His imposing presence fills the space, making it feel almost too small for the three of us.

His gaze sweeps over the bed, landing on my mother’s meager offerings. The coldness in his expression sends a shiver down my spine.

Then, his eyes fixate on the gifts laid out before him.