The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 54

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 54**

**Gemma**

As I step back into the shop, I spot Reyna lounging on one of the cream-colored sofas, her posture relaxed, as if this were an everyday occurrence. It’s a strange juxtaposition against the backdrop of my swirling thoughts.

“Oh,” she chirps, her smile brightening as I approach. “Is that your ring, Gemma? What a delightful coincidence!”

I cross my arms defensively, feeling a mix of irritation and disbelief. I know the saleswoman is within earshot, but I can’t help myself.

“Please, Reyna. As if you didn’t already know that ring belonged to me. You’ve been eyeing it for ages. I swear, there were moments I thought I saw you drooling.”

With a delicate flourish, my half-sister closes her magazine, her demeanor poised and composed. She raises a perfectly arched, dark eyebrow, an expression that could only be described as infuriatingly smug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I merely recognized it as a piece by one of my favorite artists, Fiona. I happen to be a collector of her work.”

A rush of surprise courses through me. I was aware that the ring was crafted by an internationally acclaimed jeweler, but I hadn’t realized it was Fiona’s work. Her creations are legendary, renowned for their exquisite beauty and intricate designs. No wonder the ring possesses such allure.

Why hasn’t Cassian ever mentioned this?

I quickly mask my astonishment and retort, “In your case, Reyna, the ring is no longer for sale.”

The saleswoman nearly chokes on her breath, and a pang of guilt strikes me. This piece would represent a significant commission for her, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of remorse.

“If you’re not satisfied with the asking price, I’m sure there’s room for negotiation,” the saleswoman interjects, her voice hurried, almost pleading. “Ms. Holland here is genuinely interested in purchasing the ring.”

Reyna’s smile widens as she rises gracefully, gliding over to the counter where the ring rests in its elegant box, waiting for a new owner.

I follow her, both of us gazing down at the glittering piece.

In a hushed tone, Reyna murmurs, “It was never meant to be yours, Gemma. You’ve held onto it for years, but now it’s time for Cassian’s wedding ring to go to its rightful owner.”

I stare at the ring, its custom design shimmering under the shop’s lights. I know Reyna doesn’t care for the artistry behind it; her sole concern is its monetary value.

Yet, a part of me wrestles with the unsettling thought that perhaps she’s right. Our father’s affection was never intended for me. The darkly glamorous, shimmering life of a mafia boss’s wife was never my destiny.

So, how could this ring be meant for me?

How could Cassian ever be?

Reyna delicately brushes her fingertip over the ring, and a surge of possessiveness wells up within me. I want to swat her hand away, but I restrain myself.

“Cassian knows I’m out shopping for jewelry today,” she says, her voice tinged with a wistful note. “He advised me to choose something I truly love. And I adore this.”

Of course you do.

When I arrive at Zina’s place, she’s waiting for me at the door, a fierce look in her eyes.

“What is this?” she demands, thrusting her phone into my face. “Why does Reyna have your ring?”

“Damn, she really didn’t waste any time,” I remark, scanning the social media post Zina is showing me.

Reyna has already uploaded a picture of the ring, tagging Fiona, the artist, and gushing about how thrilled she is to have snagged one of the last pieces available.

“She gave me a million dollars,” I say, pushing the phone away, trying to shake off the weight of the situation.

“What?” Zina exclaims, her voice rising incredulously. “Are you serious? How much was it originally?”

“I don’t know, but definitely not that much. Honestly, if Reyna wants to make amends for all the trouble she’s caused me by overpaying for my secondhand jewelry, I’m not going to stop her.”

Zina snorts in disbelief, and just as I’m about to shift the conversation, my phone buzzes with an incoming call.

It’s Cassian. My heart races. He rarely ventures onto social media. He can’t possibly know already, can he?

“Hello?” I answer, my voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in my chest.

“Did you just sell your wedding ring?” he snarls through the line, his tone sharp and accusatory.