The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 269

After a moment’s thought, I know it’s the right thing. Molly isn’t just my sponsored student; she’s part of my team now. The idea of her facing that devastation alone, especially after an earthquake with aftershocks still rippling through the region, makes me deeply uneasy.

“Should we leave now?” Zina asks, her eyes alight with a new, more purposeful energy. “Should we call Jace?”

“Forget it, let’s go by ourselves,” I decide. I don’t want to pull Jace into this; this feels personal.

An hour later, after a frantic but efficient period of tidying up loose ends and arranging for a carload of immediate relief supplies, including bottled water, warm clothes, blankets, and non–perishable food, we are on the road.

I’m driving Zina’s sturdy off–road vehicle, the steering wheel solid in my hands as we leave the city skyline behind for the winding roads that lead toward Hilsurrey.

“Gemma, there are still aftershocks over there, so let’s be careful!” Zina cautions, gripping the handle above her door.

“I know, I’m aware,” I nod, my eyes on the road. I’m going to help, not to be a casualty. I can’t help anyone if I ignore my own

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safety.

Two hours later, we stand at the edge of the village, and any prepared words die in my throat.

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The scene before us is one of pure devastation. Houses are not just damaged; they are buried, crushed under landslides of dark earth and shattered trees. The air is thick with dust and the

faint, metallic scent of rain and damp soil.

The government rescue teams in bright orange vests are moving through the ruins like determined ants.

I pull out my phone and call Molly. It rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. “She must be busy with the rescue, probably didn’t hear it… Let’s go in.”

We find the person in charge, a man in his forties with a face etched with exhaustion and grime. We explain our purpose. His eyes, weary beyond measure, well up with a profound gratitude that humbles me.

“Ms. Blackwell, we are truly grateful,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Your supplies have been a great help to us.”

The sheer scale of the loss is hear breaking, leaving both Zina and me utterly speechless. We look at each other, and a silent understanding passes between us. After a moment’s thought, we make the decision, pulling out our phones and, right there, arranging a joint personal donation of a million dollars to the

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relief fund.

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“Thank you, thank you,” the man stammers, shaking our hands. with both of his. “Sunflower Village was hit the hardest, and it has the most left–behind children. Your donation will greatly help them!”

“Are there any injuries? Is there anything else we can do?” I ask, my gaze sweeping over the heartbreaking scene. I am not afraid to get my hands dirty, even in my clean trousers and sweater.

“Most have been rescued, thank God, not many casualties,” he explains. “But… the post–disaster reconstruction will be challenging, and many of the children are quite scared.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, I don’t wait for a specific assignment. I see a group near a temporary tent, handing out bottles of water from our shipment. I walk over, pick up a case, and join them.

Cassian’s POV

The polished glass and steel of my office at Blackwell Industries feel like a cage.

For two days, I’ve been here, just as Grandpa instructed, pushing papers and attending meetings that feel meaningless.

The door swings open without a knock, and Adam barges in, his arms laden with several sleek, expensive–looking boxes.

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He places them on the edge of my desk with a soft thud. “Mr. Blackwell, these are the ones you ordered before.”

I stare at the boxes. Last time, when Adam offhandedly mentioned that Gemma was prone to getting angry, possibly due to early menopause, a cold dread had settled in my stomach.

I placed this order immediately, a frantic attempt to fix something… anything. Now, the supplements are here, a tangible representation of my panic, and they feel utterly useless.

“Who is this stuff suitable for?”

I hear myself ask, the question sounding stupider the moment it leaves my lips.

Adam freezes, his hand still on the top box. He hesitates for a moment, his face a mask of pure confusion. I can practically hear his thoughts: We’re talking about menopause, right? What age group could it possibly be!?

It’s no use.

Waving him out of the office, I grab my phone. I need to hear her voice, and she picks up on the second ring, but all I hear is a loud, grinding roar, like a tractor

“Where are you?” I demand.

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“It’a none of your business!” Genma retorts, her words clipped and distant over the noise.

My grip on the phone tightens. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll find out myself. The outcome will be the same anyway.”

It’s a threat, a weak one, born of pure helplessness.

There’s a shuffling sound, like she’s moving something, her breath short. “In Hilsurrey, very busy, golla go!”

The line goes dead. She’s hung up… Hilsurrey?

The name means nothing to me. I pull up the news on my tablet, and my blood runs cold.

A sudden earthquake hit the area three hours ago, with a high probability of aftershocks.

My heart hammers against my ribs. Why is she there? What possible reason could she have for being in a disaster zone?

The office door opens again; Adam is back, holding a file. “Mr. Blackwell, these departmental plans need your…”

“Let’s go, we have to leave for Hilsurrey,” I interrupt, surging to my feet and grabbing my jacket.

Adam’s mouth hangs open, but credit to his better judgement,

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