The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 45

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**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 45**

**Gemma**

A low groan escapes my lips as I follow Zina’s pointed finger. My heart sinks when I recognize the figure strutting towards us. It’s Cassian’s cousin, Claire Marshall. Just a few months younger than me, she parades around with her ostentatious fake blonde hair and exaggerated lashes. The one thing about her that’s undeniably real is her ample bosom, a fact she never hesitates to flaunt.

“Ugh, yes. That’s definitely her,” I mutter under my breath, the annoyance bubbling within me.

Claire is the daughter of Sibille, and I had thought myself fortunate to have avoided her at the last family gathering. She has this peculiar habit of waiting until Cassian is conveniently out of the way, only to stir up trouble with me.

Why? I can only assume it’s because her mother shares the same disdain for me, and Claire, being the lemming she is, has chosen to follow suit.

“Come on,” I urge Zina, grabbing her hand and tugging her in the opposite direction. “We need to get out of here before she spots us.”

But alas, it’s too late.

“11:27”

“Oh, my god! Gemma! Is that you?”

Claire’s shrill voice slices through the air, drawing the attention of several people nearby. I let out a resigned sigh and shut my eyes for a brief moment, bracing myself for the inevitable. The sound of her mile-high heels clacking against the tiled floor grows louder, a herald of her approach.

“Well, well,” Claire exclaims as she reaches us, her bright, artificial grin plastered across her face. “I swear I just saw you two coming out of that designer store. Are they just letting anyone in these days?”

I cross my arms defensively over my chest, feeling the heat of irritation rising. “Is that really the way you want to kick off this conversation, Claire? With insults?”

For the first time, I find myself speaking so directly to Claire, and the surprise is evident in her wide eyes, framed by those fuzzy black caterpillar lashes.

To clarify, I have no qualms with people who choose to wear fake eyelashes or indulge in cosmetic enhancements. My issue lies with those who lack taste yet carry themselves with an air of superiority, believing they are above others simply because they possess wealth. In Claire’s case, it’s wealth she didn’t even earn.

Her bright, artificial smile falters, replaced by a look of indignation. “How else would I start this conversation after the way you spoke to my mother the other day? Did you think she wouldn’t tell me?”

“Honestly?” I reply coolly, meeting her gaze unwaveringly. “You and your mother don’t even cross my mind.”

She bares her neon white teeth in a menacing grin. “How dare you speak to me that way, you impoverished freak bitch!”

I take a breath, ready to fire back, but Zina is quicker on the draw. She steps right up to Claire, who towers over her in height but is suddenly dwarfed by Zina’s fierce spirit.

It’s a comical sight, really—tall Claire, teetering in her designer high heels, looking down at the lilac-haired Zina, who wears high-top sneakers and stands on her tiptoes, trying to match Claire’s height.