The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 38

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

**Chapter 38**

**Gemma**

“Fine,” he utters, his voice as cold as the night air. “Then get out.”

A wave of discomfort washes over me as I swallow hard, realizing the quiet, simmering fury that I’ve stirred within him.

Over the years, I’ve certainly pushed him to the brink where his voice would rise, echoing off the walls with anger. But this? This chilling whisper is something entirely new, and it unsettles me more than I care to admit.

With my heart pounding, I step out of the car, wincing as I put weight on my injured ankle. Each movement feels like a reminder of how far we’ve fallen.

Cassian slams the door shut behind me with a finality that resonates in the stillness of the night. I watch as he slides into the passenger seat, his expression unreadable, before he accelerates away from the curb, leaving me in a cloud of burnt rubber and my own swirling thoughts.

I stand alone, the night wrapping around me like a heavy blanket, my shoes dangling from my fingers. The air is thick with the scent of his departure, a bitter reminder of the distance that now stretches between us.

—

**Cassian**

**11:23**

I have to give credit where it’s due; my wife possesses a unique talent for pushing my buttons.

In my mind, I had envisioned that kicking her out of the car and speeding off would bring me some relief, a moment of peace. Instead, a gnawing sense of irritation takes root within me. The image of her standing there, vulnerable and alone, gnaws at my conscience.

What if something happens to her?

I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn a ghostly white, the tension coursing through me. In a moment of impulse, I make a call. Within seconds, I dispatch a couple of my security team to Zina’s place. They can at least ensure she makes it back safely, even if I can’t be there myself.

With that thought lingering in my mind, I drive home.

As I step through the front door, the first thing that catches my eye is the ridiculous pair of white fuzzy slippers Gemma used to wear around the house. They sit innocently next to the entrance, a remnant of her presence, where she would leave them behind before slipping into her shoes.

“Get rid of those!” I bark at one of the servants, my voice sharp and commanding.

I don’t care how terrified he looks as he scrambles to obey, taking the offending slippers out of my sight.

If she wants to be out of my life, then so be it. I’ll clear out every trace of her existence.

But deep down, a voice whispers in my mind, a nagging reminder: It won’t bring her back. It won’t make her miss you more. All it will do is breed hatred.

The urge to shatter something, anything, rises within me like a tide. I wrestle with it, forcing it back down.

Breaking things won’t solve anything. Unless, of course, it involves breaking Jace’s face.

Sure, she might not harbor romantic feelings for him, but I saw the way he looked at her, the way he held her.

If he dares to touch her again, I swear I’ll end him. No hesitation.

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